Lubero, Democratic Republic of Congo – In February, Stino Muhindo Sivyaghendera turned on a match and held him in the grass in the field of eucalyptus that he had planted three years earlier. During the previous months, the army had installed a position there and had left fatal ammunition behind. He had heard of two young men who were killed by an explosion in the region, and he did not want anyone who came to injure himself in his field.
“I destroyed my treasure, of which I made a profit,” explains Sivyaghendera, 45, who planned to use the trees of his half hectare plot (1.2 acres) to make charcoal to pay for the tuition fees of his children.
In the territory of Lubero, large bands of agricultural land was reduced to ashes following the clashes between government troops and M23, an armed group supported by Rwanda. A peace agreement signed last week between the DRC and Rwanda aims to end the fighting, but behind the destruction hides a dilemma face of the farmers when the conflict stops: how to face the terror of unploded road bombs and other remains of war that hide in their fields.
Without effective demining programs in this region, many have used burn on their own land in the hope of exploding hidden ammunition and finding a semblance of control. But this “solution” has disastrous environmental consequences. It accelerates erosion and loss of water by destroying the cover of the soil, impoverishing nourishing cutting -edge floors, harms biodiversity and pollutes the air.
Matungulu mastery, environmentalist and speaker at the Susper Institute of Rural Development in Kanyabayonga, says that trying to clean the mines by fire only replaces a problem with another. “The fires are still aggravating the situation,” he said. “The ground loses its qualities. Nature is also polluted. Wildlife, flora and all biodiversity are affected. Burning cultures is diving the area further into a serious economic and food crisis. ”
A choice piloted by fear
The fighting moved tens of thousands of people in the region last year. Unable to plant harvests while the war raged nearby, many returned to mudguards and neglected fields, to reduce meals of cassava tubers and alone leaves, with beans, corn, peanuts and sweet potatoes largely disabled on the local markets.
“I think now we are a little safer,” said Anselme Hamundwate, 23, who burned the field of his family in Kirumba before starting to plow in May.
Oripa Katungu Makembe burned a field of cassava plants near the harvest. She and her neighbors faced a similar choice in 2008, when members of the National of Congènes for the Defense of the People, an armed group then fighting with the DRC army, resumed their house. “They have left military equipment in our homes,” explains Makembe. After the departure of armed groups, the community burned lots of boots, uniforms and backpacks. Now, 17 years later, “we set fire to the fields where clashes took place.” After the ashes settled, she dug what remains of her harvest.
But the fire becomes uncontrollable. Paluku Kingaha paid the price in March. “People who burn their fields have caused larger fires than expected,” he said. “My field of trees was burned by foreigners. I had 42 hives there that produced honey for me, and I would make a lot of money by selling the trees. ”
A dangerous and ineffective practice
“The practice of putting fires in a dangerous or high risk area is strictly prohibited in anti-mine work,” explains Bahati Zari Jean. Zaria, chief operations at Synergie de Lutage Antimine, an organization in Goma with branches in Ituri, Tanganyika, Kasai and South Kivu, says that the risk of practice causing dangerous explosions of small caliber such as grenades, while leaving other intact explosives. “The simple temperature of bush fires cannot explode a large caliber device such as mortars, rockets, bombs, shells, artillery bombs.”
In Rutshuru, in August of last year, after the fire at a car, four children discovered an IED among the ashes. They picked it up while they were playing and were killed when he exploded. By removing the visible evidence of explosives without successfully exploding them, says Zaria, fires could complicate future demining operations.
Protocol V on the explosive remains of war, adopted in November 2003 by the part of the States to the 1980 Convention on certain conventional weapons, represented a major advance in efforts to end the suffering caused by unplodced and abandoned ammunition. The agreement obliges each party to an armed conflict to erase the explosive remains of the territory war under its control when the fights stop. They must also provide technical, important and financial assistance to eliminate explosives from their own military operations, but which are located in territory and not under their control. But the Democratic Republic of Congo has never ratified the subsequent convention or protocol on explosive remains, which entered into force in 2006. None of the agreements links non -state actors as M23.
Witnesses say that the number of war dead continues to rise in regions of northern Kivu where clashes have taken place. A few months ago, two young boys died in Kahande, just north of Kirumba, after hitting a grenade with a hoe while working in a field. Another in Alimbongo was killed in the same way. In Kanyabayonga, a man lost his leg.
A report by the United Nations Security Council has documented unspecified ammunition left in a rural church as well as schools and hospitals. Meanwhile, in South Kivu, the UN partners have recently gathered to erase 22 schools of thrown explosives.
Zaria, from the Anti-Mine group, calls on people to stop burning land and staying away from unploded ammunition. “If someone sees an explosive device, do not touch it – inform people around you, local authorities and, if possible, put a sign that there is a danger,” he said. “These devices should not be thrown into latrines or rivers, or buried.”
At the same time, he recognizes: “There is insufficient funding for anti-mines and perhaps even less information on the case of Lubero.” No demining organization presents a presence there, and he says that an organized effort would be faced with financial, security and logistics challenges.
“There is no one who can remove explosives in our fields,” said farmer Kasereka Lukogho, 57. “How long will we wait?” Hunger is his own war. “