The Democratic Republic of the Congo
The school wedged between warring territories
The view from the school in Belembu is magnificent.
All around are the green hills of Ituri, where cassava fields in 50 shades of green intermingle with dense forest, coffee trees, and cocoa plants that cast their shadows on the ochre-coloured track leading to the school.
It's hard to imagine the acts of unspeakable violence, of which civilians are the first victims, that have taken place and continue to take place here.
Perched on a hill, the school is just a stone's throw from the border between the Mahagi and Djugu territories. The boundary between the two administrative entities, invisible to the eye of the outsider, is fraught with meaning for the local inhabitants.
In recent years, the territory of Djugu has been the scene of conflict and atrocious crimes, leading to massive population movements towards the northern neighbouring territory of Mahagi. Displaced families took refuge wherever they could, in churches, schools, and houses provided by host families. Built on the Mahagi side, Belembu primary school found itself on the front line.
“In November 2022, more than a thousand men, women and children arrived at the school,” recalls Marie-Jeanne Aromborac Maractho, the headteacher. “It was very difficult for us to continue teaching. We couldn't ask the displaced people to return home. The risk to their lives was too great.”
Since then, the school's 13 classrooms have been occupied by displaced families. During the day, they sit in the courtyard to let the children study and, in the evening, collect their meagre belongings and return to sleep. A total of 834 children are now enrolled at the school, compared with 700 two years ago.
Haunting acts of violence
“The children saw the body of this young woman they knew. You can imagine the collective trauma”
Violence follows the people who have been displaced closely and lurks around the school. “There are around 200 orphans among the children at the school,” says Marie-Jeanne. The morbid scenario repeats itself: parents leave their children during the day to return home and cultivate their abandoned fields a few kilometres away, in the Djugu territory. Some have unfortunate encounters with armed groups. The less fortunate never return.
“One day, a mother was out in the fields with her baby tied to her back,” continues Marie-Jeanne. “She was brutally murdered with a machete. Her relatives thought they were doing the right thing when they took her body and that of her baby to school. The children saw the body of this young woman they knew. You can imagine the collective trauma.”
In the aftermath, several children ran away, deserting the school.
The story of the Belembu school is not an isolated one in this province in the east of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DR Congo). For more than 20 years, Ituri has been plagued by armed and inter-community violence. In this province, 2.8 million people are affected by displacement. Between January and March 2024, around 200 attacks were recorded in Ituri, resulting in 651 victims. Funding remains woefully inadequate to meet the needs of this extraordinary crisis.
Community workers to look after children and the community
In the ten schools in the area, two community leaders are trained per school. One is a permanent teacher at the school and the other is a facilitator who is a member of the displaced community. The facilitators are trained in the listening, psychosocial support and socio-emotional learning techniques of the Norwegian Refugee Council's (NRC) Better Learning Programme (BLP). The BLP aims to improve the wellbeing of children who have witnessed and/or been victims of violence and who, because of psychological trauma, are struggling to learn at school.
“I've learnt to recognise the signs of stress in children, when they stop playing, cry, isolate themselves, are inattentive, or behave aggressively or boisterously,” explains Augustin, 29, a teacher and, more recently, a BLP facilitator.
Three afternoons a week, the activity leaders meet the children in the school playground. They practise exercises and games based on the BLP method.
“Songs and dances help the children to connect with each other”
“Songs and dances help the children to connect with each other,” explains Roger, BLP officer and clinical psychologist. “Relaxing exercises aim to restore a kind of inner calm. Finally, recreational games are a way for the children to overcome their daily difficulties, to transform them through the imagination.”
The method works. Many children from the host and displaced communities attend the afternoon workshops. “It's a change in pedagogy that allows us to understand the children better and helps us to understand ourselves better as adults” says Guillaume, a teacher at the school. “Beyond the school, this approach benefits the whole community because we can pass on psychological support techniques to parents.”
Sylvie's wounds
Sylvie is 14 years old.
Her voice seems fragile, barely audible. Yet she tells us openly about the ordeal her family has been through over the last two years.
Sylvie arrived with her family from Djugu territory in 2022, with no other option to stay alive than to leave their lives behind. Fleeing was the first traumatic experience for the girl, who had to mourn the loss of her former life. The murder of her father a few months later was the second.
“Sylvie was in class when she heard that her father had been killed by armed men while he was cultivating his field a few kilometres from here, in Djugu territory,” recalls Guillaume. “We saw her collapse.”
“All I could think about was my father and my life gone,” says Sylvie. “I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't study any more.”
Sylvie isolated herself. She missed school, and hardly spoke to or interacted with her classmates. Her teacher and the community workers offered her discussion sessions and organised visits to the family home. Only the dancing and singing sessions calmed her down and, for a while, chased away the sad thoughts that invaded her mind.
“When I dance and sing, I forget everything. It makes me feel good. I never want the music to be turned off,” she says.
Today, Sylvie has rediscovered her passion for life. She is happy at school, and participates eagerly in the relaxation exercises, dances, and games organised in the afternoon.
“In the end, my life is still just as complicated,” she says. “But at least at school I forget. I forget about my worries and problems. I forget that I'm hungry. At school, I feel good.”
The essential feeling of safety that children should feel when they are at school to aid their learning is not shared by everyone in DR Congo. According to an evaluation carried out by NRC in November 2023, nearly one in four parents in Ituri fears for their child's safety while traveling to or being at school.
While the psychosocial support activities at the Belembu school significantly improve the wellbeing of the children and their families, they pale in comparison to the immense needs of the population.
“We give advice and raise awareness in the community,” says François, a parent and recently trained community facilitator. “We're the envy of other schools Children come from all over to attend the afternoon sessions. The only problem is that there are only two of us for over 800 children. We need to be at least three.”
In 2023, only 43 per cent of the humanitarian funding plan for DR Congo has been covered. The situation is even more critical in the education sector, where only 17 per cent of the humanitarian response has been covered.
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