My name is KISIRISIRI Andy, of Congolese origin, I am a refugee in Malawi at Dzaleka Refugee Camp. I honor those who sacrifice their time to read this chronology of what I experienced in the years before going into exile in Malawi, the country that offered me refuge. It is my deeply sad story.
I studied at the boarding school of Saint-Carmel, in the district of Kamina in the North-South of Katanga. Before the death of my father—a politician of the MLC (Movement for the Liberation of Congo), a businessman, and a farmer—life was very different. My father was secretary of the political party in the region. One day, during a political meeting, rebels known as the Bakata-Katanga, part of the Mayi-Mayi group led by Gédéon, attacked. They massacred more than a hundred politicians present, including my father. His death was a tragedy for me, and I have never known of his tomb.
Afterward, the city was trapped in violence between the Mayi-Mayi and the Republican Guard. There was a curfew; no one could go out, even to find food. Children suffered greatly. Those who tried to leave secretly were executed. My life changed dramatically—no resources, no security, no family contact. I thought my mother had fled with my brothers after my father’s death. Later, I received a threatening letter demanding that I renounce my inheritance and give up our land and property. Fearing for my life, I complied. My family was ruined and divided.
Still under the care of the boarding school priest, I decided to leave Saint-Carmel. On the way to the bus station, I walked for four days. When I arrived, there was no bus. At dawn, rebels attacked the village. Houses were burned, girls were raped, children were killed. I was among the young people captured. We were stripped, chained, and taken hostage. What I witnessed was beyond imagination—torture, humiliation, and cruelty.
Eventually, I was taken to their camp in the forest. There, I saw piles of bones and skulls. We were told this was our new land for life. Anyone who tried to escape would be executed. The rebels forced us through brutal initiation rituals. I prayed constantly, asking God to save me. By fortune and courage, I managed to escape barefoot into the forest.
For days I wandered without shelter, climbing trees at night to avoid wild animals. Eventually, I found a railway line and joined others fleeing massacres in Kasai. They were shocked by my condition and asked about my escape. Together, we traveled by train, then by truck, until we crossed into Zambia and later Malawi. At dawn, I arrived at Dzaleka Refugee Camp, where a new chapter of struggle began.
Here in the camp, life is different but still difficult. I graduated in Biology-Chemistry and have always dreamed of continuing my studies at university. I long for stability and safety, and I fear returning to Congo because of the rebels and those who seized my father’s property. For now, I survive through food distributions and small jobs that help me meet my needs.
This is not fiction—it is what I lived through. My hope remains that one day I will find peace and build a stable future.