I am in the middle of a refugee camp. I deicide to stop looking through my viewfinder and put down my camera. For a moment, I want to see with my bare eyes what is going on in front of me. It is the very first time I have seen such a place. Where many huts are crowded together. Where families are huddled in a single small tent.

By Saskia Roskam

Congo Calling

About Saskia Roskam

Saskia Roskam, born in 1982 from a Cameroonian mother and a Dutch father, is travelling over the next six months through the Democratic Republic of Congo. In her fortnightly column entitled ‘Congo Calling’, Saskia shares with us the impressions of her journey.

A small boy looks at me. Justin is his name. I walk over to him and shake his hand. He can't be older than five years. His big brown eyes stare into mine as I introduce myself. I then tell him that I am very happy to meet him.

He holds on to my hand and tells me that my presence is much appreciated and that he would like to keep me here.

There's something about his quiet disposition that doesn't make him feel like a child to me. But he is one. And he is asking me in the most honest way to stay and live with him in his tent, amongst the hundreds in this refugee camp.

This is the Massisi region in North Kivu. Up until now, the scenery of this place looked like paradise. It is the most beautiful of landscapes I have seen in this country so far. We are 2000 metres high. Cows graze the hills in the fresh cool mountain air. Were it not for the various battalions of soldiers from the UN, FADRC etc and food aid distribution organisations and UNHCR plastic roofed huts, one could have mistaken this for the foothills of the Alps.

I let go of Justin's hand, because I have to go. We were both just passersby in each others' lives. He is so young, so fragile and already so bruised. He has known nothing but war, tents and plenty of passersby just like me.  We arrive, we look through our lenses, write down our notes and leave again...

I reluctantly take a slow walk to my car and drive back down to the city. To my hotel, to another world, ... my world.