author: Jacques Bwira
Escaping from Congo
My name is Jacques Bwira, I was born thirty-seven years ago in Kitchanga, Nord-Kivu Province of former Zaïre, now the Democratic Republic of Congo. Son of Nsii Theresa and Kyamwami Eduard, I am member of the Bahunde-Banyanga tribe, who occupies the Territoire de Walikale. I am a Christian Jehovah’s Witness by religion. I am married to Sarah Lubuto Bwira, eight years younger than me. We have two children, a boy and a girl, both attending primary school.
In 1992, ethnic tensions bursted in Walikale, my home territory, forcing my family to seek refuge in neighboring areas. I had to abandon school for six years and finally managed to complete secondary education in 1998, qualifying as a teacher. Since I strongly wanted to pursue higher education, I sought and obtained admission with a local university but failed to meet the financial requirements, as our family lost all investments during the war.
Soon after completing my secondary education, I became an activist of Action pour la Defense des Droits de l’Homme au Congo (ADDHOC), a local human rights NGO then based in Goma town. My work consisted in denouncing to the International Red Cross and to neutral local media any human rights violation committed by all sides involved in the conflict, guiding victims on how and where they could find psychological and legal help to recover from post war trauma. Unfortunately, due to economic pressure some of my former colleagues decided to use fire-arms to earn money: they deserted ADDHOC and enrolled as soldiers in the Rally for Congolese Democracy (RCD), a Rwanda-assisted rebel movement. As a consequence, they started to view me as an obstacle to their activities.
In the same period, three sons of my paternal uncle stubbornly grabbed my father’s land. As members of the RCD rebel military force, they became powerful and influential. My father obtained a favorable judgment over the matter at the provincial court in Goma, but they refused to concede to the court pronouncement and started to abuse their position in the rebel army threatening to kill me and my relatives.
They hired Interahamwe fighters to exploit our land, with dramatic consequences for my family. My father and mother went displaced and could never resettle; my young twelve years old brother Bikumba Evariste was kidnapped to slave for the army and my other brother Guillaumes was forced to escape, leaving our parents even more vulnerable.
The situation became so tense that I ended up in hideouts and lastly in a prison cell in Katindo. The local International Red Cross finally negotiated my release and helped me with money to run to Kampala (Uganda) for my safety.
Life in Uganda
In 2000, I was granted the refugee status in Uganda, where I started a school for refugee children named Kampala Urban Refugee Children’s Education Centre (KURCEC), which later became HoPE Primary School. The school started with the eleven families living with me in a flat I rented from a Catholic priest in Kampala. We started with no books and used French as the main teaching language, since the majority of the children were Francophone from Congo, Rwanda, or Burundi. Our school now only has English-speaking teachers and follows the Ugandan national Curriculum.
I later worked with my fellow refugees in the creation of a community based organization called Helping People of Ethnicities, HoPE. The mission of HoPE is to integrate and reconcile the refugee and national communities in Uganda through formal education, skills training, income generating initiatives and recreational opportunities that foster peace and development. I noticed that by working and studying together in a united community and by engaging in positive recreational activities such as sports and arts, people develop appreciation for one another, despite cultural barriers. With legal assistance from the Refugee Law Project and the UNHCR, the centre is now an established primary school.
This has been my main occupation in the last eight years in Uganda. Unfortunately though, life here wasn’t always easy.
A difficult environment
In 2002, I was falsely accused by Mr. Mavambu Charles that I was involved in the death of his wife. He vowed to avenge his wife against me and he even reported me for murder at the UNHCR, but he failed to support his claims. When I in turn appealed to the UNHCR for protection against Mavambu, I received a negative response in a letter dated 11 December 2002. Mavambu is associated with a religion that teaches that a person’s death is always caused by his neighbors. Also, he is in the group of my fellow Congolese who hate me for my refusal to share with them the funds of KURCEC.
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KURCEC qualified to receive support from the Social Development Fund of the French Embassy in Kampala, which allowed us to legally purchase land for the classroom construction in the Kampala suburb of Ndejje. This caused jealousy among some of my fellow Congolese that wanted me to share the project’s resources. They went to Ndejje and tried to turn the local people against me, claiming that I received huge amounts of money from Museveni’s government and donor agencies to buy land and that my main purpose is to eventually occupy the area and send away the residents.
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Problems also emerged during the school construction. The French Embassy wanted to connect me with a local company called Rukararwe, but Abel, the company engineer that was to supervise the construction, betrayed me with Mr. Tusiime and Muhofa, respectively headmaster and land-owner of a school that KURCEC was about to take over. He exaggerated the grant amount we had received and alleged that refugees are not supposed to run institutions like schools in Uganda, so they should make sure the school is built in their names. These men gave me hard time! They reached an extent of using an army officer to threaten to repatriate me forcefully in case I built the school elsewhere. They secretly visited our new site and kept on sending me oral threats.
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On the evening of 7 June 2007, while heading home from our church, I was attacked by unidentified men who spontaneously started beating me up alleging that I was trying to steal a motorcycle in the darkness. They beat me heavily and were about to pour petrol on me to burn me up, when two brave ladies appeared shouting for help and people came around and stopped my assailants. They checked my bag to see if it contained a weapon the aggressors claimed I used to intimidate them – only to find a bible and other religious texts. I was abandoned there bleeding from my nose, swollen all over the body with heavy backache, until someone arranged for me to be taken to the nearby Lufuka clinic. I took the matter to the area local authorities, but the residents who helped me did not show enough cooperation to denounce the attackers, fearing repression from the gang. The fact is still under investigation at Katwe police station, but with no results.
The good of others
Fortunately, these problems didn’t compromise the success of HoPE. We now have more national children than refugees: locals don’t just see HoPE as a refugee school; they see it as a school in the community – and refugee children know that they are pupils like any others at any school. When the Ugandan government wanted to collect taxes from us, it was the community that said, “No, this is a school which is not charging as much money as other schools, so we think that they are not supposed to pay taxes.” That showed me that we have gotten so much support from the community.
This work has impacted my life. When I came to Uganda, I was seeking resettlement to a different country. A number of my fellow refugees were resettled to the United States, Canada, and other Western countries. I realized that if I sought my own interests and the interests of my family, I could leave this project. But all the children who have benefited from this work would not have access to education. So I had to change my goals. This work has taught me how to sacrifice for the good of others.
Our students are doing very well, better than most students at other schools. When refugee children meet people who love them, it starts to level their past memories of the machetes, guns, and terror that they have seen in their home countries.
An interview with Jacques Bwira can be found in Harvard Educational Review Vol. 79 No. 1 Spring 2009.


