Why eastern DR Congo is 'rape capital of the world'

Story highlights

  • Eastern Congo has been called the "rape capital of the world"
  • Writer has noticed disturbing trend of generational rape
  • Dr. Mukwege, a general surgeon, works tirelessly to repair women damaged by rape
From the first time you step into eastern Congo, you find yourself surrounded by the exotic and extraordinary, be it flora and fauna or the just plain incongruous -- the severed wing of a Russian aircraft stored on the side of the road, or a boy with a gun.
The place is pulsating with the heat and energy of a population of people fighting to survive just one more day. But the violence here is as intense as this intoxicating, heady mix of Africa at its best and worst.
Eastern Congo has been called the "rape capital of the world" by U.N. Special Representative Margot Wallstrom. Reports record that 48 women are raped every hour. I have been working in the region for 10 years and have seen a tragic development in this unpunished crime against the heart of society.
Filmmaker Fiona Lloyd-Davies
I first went to a town called Shabunda, deep in the forest. It was October 2001 and circumstances brought me to Congo rather than Afghanistan. A small twin-engined plane was the only way in. And out.
It was the height of the war and I was with a returning team from the medical NGO Medecins Sans Frontieres (MSF). They had pulled out because of the regular attacks on the town, but had decided it was safe to bring their team of three back: there was such a need for medical help here.
As the plane taxied its way precariously down the grass airstrip, we knew we were waving goodbye to the only escape route we had. I was there for a week.
A week hearing terrifying stories of torture and rape. Multiple rapes. Violent, brutal rape. Rape with sticks and guns, even bayonets.
Women told me of their daily choice -- to stay at home and face starvation. Or, go out to the fields for food and be raped. Most women chose the latter. It had become the norm.
The war continued until 2003, when a peace treaty was signed. Officially, the fighting came to an end, but it didn't stop. Nor did the rape.
I returned to Shabunda in 2005 to find the women I had interviewed and photograph four years earlier. It was an unsettling search, for most of those women had died or disappeared in the forest after an attack, never to be seen again.
The new women I met had similar tales of horror. But there was a twist. The people I spoke to this time related organized rape camps, with daily roll-calls. There was a new efficiency in the rape, it had become an integrated part of the rebel forces lives. As these women told me, it was now systematic.
Some years later, in 2009, I returned to make a film about rape and found a disturbing new trend.
Women told me how they expected to b