In a neighborhood in the heart of Goma, Roger Lufwamba, 55, a father of five daughters, sat in his house and remembered how the fall of the city upended his life.
As M23, the Rwandan-backed militia, stormed the city, a bomb fell on his house, he said. He watched two of his children die from the blast, and rushed to the hospital with a third, injured one.
“It was chaos everywhere,” Mr. Lufwamba said. “I still remember bodies lying on the ground.”
I remember those days, too.
Nearly 3,000 people were killed in Goma in late January 2025, when the city fell. More than 2,800 Congolese were wounded, according to international aid groups.
I had been photographing at a hospital when doctors and nurses suddenly became overwhelmed with gunshot victims. With the sound of gunfire and exploding bombs drawing closer, I rushed to my house and stayed there for days until the city quieted.
Life in my city has been hobbled by uncertainty ever since.
In December, President Trump presided over what he described as a peace deal between Rwanda and Congo, the two major powers on either side of the conflict.
But clashes between rebels, government forces and allied militias continue. Many experts have called the deal largely symbolic.
The conflict has been labeled one of the most complex humanitarian crises in the world. More than 8.2 million people have been displaced across the country, according to the United Nations, and millions more have been thrown into poverty.
The bloodshed has torn the border region apart for decades.
Last year, rebels focused on strategic towns like Goma, but they have captured territory beyond the city as well, setting up parallel governments in areas that they now control. They have appointed neighborhood chiefs, city mayors and governors.
Violence still breaks out as various militias vie with each other, as well as government forces, for control of the region’s valuable minerals and metals. A drone strike last month in Masisi, about 50 miles from Goma, killed 22 people and injured others, according to reports from hospitals.
M23 rebels organized funerals for the victims and blamed government forces for the deaths. Patrick Muyaya, Congo’s minister of communication, called the accusation, “the height of indecency and inhumanity.”
Residents are often caught in the middle of fighting that they can’t control. After enduring years of violent turf battles, many have resigned themselves to piecing their lives back together as best they can.
Edy Rashidi told me he had gone to look for work last year on the very morning rebels arrived. He was on his way home when a stray bullet shattered his femur.
Beatrice Nashagali and her 11 children are still grappling with how their lives were turned upside down when gunmen started shooting inside her home, injuring one of her daughters.
The men took her husband outside and shot him in the head in front of the family’s house, she said. Ms. Nashagali was pregnant and gave birth a few months later.
Hospitals that were overwhelmed a year ago are now treating long-term injuries. At Shirika La Umoja Centre, which treats patients with disabilities, victims arrive for rehabilitation and prosthetic fittings.
I visited on a recent day and talked to Kambale Muyisa, a patient who was shot in the head and hands in December. His friends were captured, and he still has no idea where they are, he said. He came to the center to have a helmet made to protect his head and for physical therapy.
In the prosthesis workshop, orthopedic technician Wivine Mukata was taking measurements to make a prosthesis for another patient. Ms. Mukata had her own foot blown off when a bomb fell on her home in 2014.
“I was desperate, like most of my patients,” she said, sitting on a chair in the workshop. “When I started walking again, I told myself that my job would be to give hope to others like me.”
Despite the hard memories and the difficulties of daily life, residents have shown remarkable resilience in Goma.
At a town hall, I found eight couples who were celebrating their marriages before the new mayor, appointed by the rebel group.
During a national holiday last month, people gathered for concerts in nightclubs and cultural centers, with musicians sharing songs about their struggles. The audience channeled their energy through dance.
On the banks of Lake Kivu, bodies had washed ashore after the takeover.
But now the lake is once again a place to relax. Vendors cross the water in canoes to bring food to the city, and in the evenings, dozens of fishermen rowing by lamplight search for the small fish that feed Goma.
The lake is a place of tranquillity, at least for now.
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