GOMA, Democratic Republic of Congo — Serge Patrick, father of three, used to own a refrigerator. He was proud of it; the appliance was a sign of prestige in his neighborhood. But when he lost his job as a miner and there was no food left to chill, Patrick sold the fridge, along with other domestic necessities, to fill stomachs as empty as his house.
“I used to have more,” Patrick said, gesturing to the bare walls of his home. “I had a radio and good chairs. A table. I sold them because we were going hungry.”
He paused. “One of my children starved to death.”
Patrick led me down his neighborhood in the crowded Birere Quarter in Goma, covering his nostrils to mask the stench of canals choked with garbage. It was a warm day, and a group of bystanders stood in the shade of mud-thatched houses to take refuge from the heat. Mostly unemployed miners like Patrick, they sauntered over to put in their two cents when they saw me wielding a camera. Soon enough, the small group swelled to a crowd of roughly 25 men. Read more...
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