Sexual violence survivors described mental health symptoms consistent with post-traumatic stress, including anxiety or panic attacks, frequent crying, hypervigilance, and nightmares. Denise said images of the rapes she endured often come back to her “like flashbacks.” Irene said: “When I fall asleep, I just dream about these scenes. When I’m in the fields, if a bird moves, I get scared thinking they’re still coming to get me.” Elisabeth said: “At home, everyone avoids sudden movements at my side. I’m still traumatized.”

Stigma and Rejection

Many survivors of sexual violence said that following their release, their husbands or partners had abandoned them or that family and community members had blamed or taunted them. “I find that I no longer have any value in society,” said Louise. Monique’s husband blames her for the ransom he had to pay: “When I just ask for some salt, he replies that all our money was spent [on the ransom].” Her husband also refuses to continue paying for her medical care, so she has had to treat herself with traditional medicine. “He asked me why I didn’t run away when I was captured,” she said. “But how could I do that with a child on my back?”

Irene’s husband sometimes tells her to “go back to the ‘husbands’” she left where she was held. “He says he’s being laughed at everywhere, that these things hurt him,” she said. “He keeps saying that he’ll just go away to Uganda and leave me here.” Sarah said her husband has been threatening to leave her since the kidnapping: “He’s been insulting me, saying that I’m not a complete woman anymore. Our situation is bad. And the talk continues within the neighborhood. Many people say that they would not accept to live with a woman who has been raped.”

Financial Hardship

In most of the cases documented, ransom payments ranged between $200 and $600 per hostage. “There were different prices for each of us,” Jeanne said. “We were like cows.” The kidnappers would also demand chickens, phones, crates of beer, or cigarettes.

Victims and their families have had to sell their home plots, farmland, and goods, or take loans. Many former hostages are now scared to cultivate their fields. “Coming out of captivity feels like you’ve been poisoned,” said Sophie. “After this experience, you feel unable to go to the fields.” Elisabeth said:

My relatives sold our fields and [our last] goat. They also sold a bag of beans that we had at home. They took loans from a shop and the parish…. We’re suffering so much in Rutshuru. We would all go to Uganda if only we could go on foot. We have no choice but to go the fields to get food, but going in fear is difficult.

Some girls had to give up their studies because the ransom payment meant their family could not pay school fees anymore. “I dropped out of school because the amount paid for my release was exorbitant,” 18-year-old Catherine said. “[My father] refuses to pay for my school fees.”

Failure to Protect and Lack of Justice

Many former hostages said their relatives did not believe the Congolese authorities or police would assist them. “The civil authorities in Rutshuru are doing nothing about [the kidnappings]. Even if you go and inform them, they say nothing and do nothing,” said Yolande. Irene had little faith in the police: “You can inform the police that someone is being strangled somewhere nearby, they won’t budge. They would tell you: ‘These are your children, it’s your business.’” Most survivors said that the police never interviewed them once they were released.

Others said their relatives feared retaliation from the kidnappers if they sought help from the police. “No matter what time or place, if I hear one of their voices, I’d be able to recognize them,” said Elisabeth. “But even if you run into them and report them, they might be arrested and sent to jail, but they won’t stay there more than two days. They told us that if anyone dared to denounce them one day, they would do us a lot of harm when they get out of jail.” Other survivors said that identifying kidnappers would be difficult and presented an obstacle to justice. “I didn’t go to the police to report them, because there was no point in accusing people you don’t know,” Constance said.

In at least one case, in late 2019, the police allegedly arrested residents and stole the ransom that a family was putting together to free one of their relatives. Facing anger by the community, the police returned the money, but their actions delayed the payment to the kidnappers, who inflicted further abuse on the hostage as a result. Grace, who was among this group of hostages, said that as a result the kidnappers struck a man in the head with a machete, badly injuring him.

The wave of kidnappings and lack of law enforcement response has driven men from the affected communities to form vigilante groups. Local activists have reported several incidents of mob justice. In November 2019, people armed with arrows and machetes killed three suspected kidnappers, also in the Bukoma area.

“Young men from the neighborhood were fed up with the problem and the absence of police action, so they decided to tackle the problem themselves,” said Grace. “They set up traps, captured three men they said were involved in the kidnappings, and burned them alive.” A local activist feared these vigilante groups might create more problems: “There’s a risk that they’ll use this to settle their personal conflicts or that they’ll do the same dirty work [as the criminal gangs].”