By Jacey Fortin

BENI, Democratic Republic of Congo — On the morning of her wedding, the bride is up at 6 a.m. The dawn is bright and clear, but Rebecca Kirongozi looks downcast as she gets her hair done for the big day.

“She’s a little nervous about starting a new life. This will be her first time living with a man,” says Rebecca’s sister, Belinda Kirongozi, with a sly smile. Today, Belinda will be the unofficial ringleader, shepherding guests from one location to the next, always smiling, with a gleam in her light golden eyes that gives her a look of cheery intensity.

Theirs is not a rich family, but that won’t stand in the way of a grand ceremony. Friends and family have scraped together as much money as they could spare, renting Rebecca’s gauzy white gown for the week and putting plenty of fish, chicken, rice, and cake on the table (though with a caterer out of the question, Belinda had to stay up all night preparing today’s feast).

Rebecca’s family is a testament to the entrepreneurial spirit that defines Beni, a city with a business-savvy culture and a history of relative political independence. But as in other towns across eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo, chronic instability has held Beni back. Over the past decade, the region has fallen victim to an alphabet soup of militant groups — the CNDP, the FDLR, the M23 — that have committed atrocities against civilians, including mass murder, rape, and recruitment of child soldiers. The aim of these groups has sometimes been to capture and hold territory. Other times it has been to destabilize the region for political reasons, often at the behest of neighboring countries like Rwanda and Uganda.

Today, the Congolese government says the primary threat is the ADF, or Allied Democratic Forces, a decades-old Islamist group with Ugandan roots. But critics of the government are suspicious of its outsized rhetoric about the ADF. They argue that politicians rile up fear because they prefer to prioritize military operations over basic public needs like paved streets, good schools, or reliable electricity. The result for people like Rebecca, who is unemployed and lives in a neighborhood of dirt roads and dilapidated shops, is a chronic condition of poverty and anxiety.

But on the day of her wedding ceremony, no one wants to talk about militants, politics, or poverty. Fear and frugality are banished for the day. The wedding is a small rebellion against the prevailing narrative about eastern Congo, which would condemn this region to permanent chaos. The celebration must be beautiful — and it must be documented. Cameras will flash from dawn until dusk, capturing aunts and uncles, friends and neighbors, all posing in their Saturday best.

Read more: Love and War in Eastern Congo

Source: FP