R.N. is a young woman in her early twenties. She is elegant, her dark brown hair braided close to her head, her make-up and clothes neat and fashionable. Her manner is firm and composed. In September, she escaped from Kinshasa and flew to London with the help of an agent. She believes that, were she returned there, she would not survive in the Democratic Republic of Congo (formerly Zaire) for long.
My father was a businessman, who died not long after I was born. I grew up in Kinshasa with an older brother and sister in a large family. When I was 18, I graduated from a private school with my baccalaureate in business studies. After Laurent-Desire Kabila took power in 1997 after the collapse of the Mobutu regime, I was taken on as secretary to a high-ranking man in the government. My family had connections.
R.N. went to work in this mans private office, keeping his diary. I greeted his guests, made sure that his office was clean and tidy and, at the end of the day, I locked it up before I left. I also looked after his private and family correspondence. As part of my job I routinely met ministers in the government, and visiting politicians from other countries.
When I had been working there for several months, he asked me to go with him to a conference he was attending in another city. We stayed about a week and it was there that I took over the protocol side of his life. I held his diary, organised his meetings and took charge of the arrangements.
I soon found that I had a certain amount of power and responsibility. My employer appeared to grow fond of me. Shortly after this, we began dating. He was a married man, with children. We kept our affair secret, although people in the office knew that we were seeing each other. I had a boyfriend already, but when he found out about my new relationship, he became frightened, and we stopped seeing each other.
In the summer of 1998, the politician, who had become increasingly critical of Kabilas policies, fled Kinshasa to join one of the opposition groups working from outside the country. Before leaving he gave R.N. some money. I wanted to follow him, because I was in love with him, but I didnt even know how to find him. When his post was filled, the new man sacked all of us who had worked for his predecessor.
I found it impossible to get another job, but I was able to survive for some time on the money I had saved up. Because I had met a lot of highly-placed people in my job, I went on being invited to parties and receptions. At one of these, I met another politician. This man was single and we began an affair.
A change of regime
The violence between different Congolese groups, which had been touched off by the massive influx of refugees from the fighting in Rwanda and Burundi in the mid-1990s, continued to escalate.
By now, neighbouring countries were supporting the rebels and the war, fuelled by the Congos rich natural resources, had claimed over half a million lives. In January 2001, Kabila was assassinated by one of his security guards, and his son Joseph Kabila anointed president as his successor.
R.N. continued her life in the capital. Her new lover was generous, presenting her with a house in the country. But then one day he discovered that she had once worked for a politician by then known to be helping the rebels. As he was close to the new president, he feared that I might have been planted to spy on him. He had me arrested and taken to police headquarters outside the city. There I was accused of being a traitor to the new regime.
When R.N. had been held for some time, the police began to use torture in their interrogations. They made her put out her hands, then passed a stick in between her fingers on which they would press down hard. One of the fingers on her left hand was twisted out of joint. They sprayed her with cold water from high-pressure hoses and told her that they were cleaning her. Then they raped her. Over the next two months and twenty-four days they raped her repeatedly.
One of the guards took pity on me, and agreed to help me. I told him that my mother could raise some money, so he went to see her, and she gave him $1000 with which to bribe the other guards. One night, he smuggled me out of the prison and took me to a safe house near the airport. An agent had been found and my mother brought $4000 to pay for tickets and a passport. We gave the guard who had helped us $1000. I travelled to the UK by plane, on a French passport, and asked for asylum.
There are significant numbers of refugees from the Democratic Republic of Congo in at least ten countries, and their numbers are rising. The Congo is also home to refugees from five of its own neighbouring countries Angola, Sudan, Burundi, Uganda and Rwanda.
During 2001, some 8000 people from the Congo asked for asylum in Europe.
