Reflections on South Kivu Community Development Project (SKCDP) in a Time of Conflict

By Michel Chikwanine

When I landed in Bukavu on July 21^st, 2024, a place I hadn’t seen since I was six years old — it felt both overwhelming and deeply familiar. This was not just a project visit. It was a homecoming.

I reunited with my cousin Michel, one of the project managers for SKCDP, someone I hadn’t seen since I was three. The air, the smells, the streets, even the voices around me reminded me of my grandmother and my father, of a connection I still carry with me.

From the very first training session I felt the joy of the people we were working with.

I remember how the women sat right at the front, eager to take in any information that could help them.

One young woman named Nabintu stood out. She had just lost her husband and was left to raise seven children alone.

At first, she came quietly, saying nothing, simply watching. We gave her a sack, some seeds, gardening tools — but most importantly, we helped her find hope again.

A few months later, I received a photo of her proudly showing her yield from the training. The smile on her face told me more than words ever could: that even in a place devastated by war, new life can still sprout.

I carry with me so many memories of that visit, the laughter at shared lunches, the familiar expressions I remember hearing from my grandmother when I was growing up.

The songs and dancing on the last day as the farmers celebrated simply being seen and being heard.

The songs and dancing on the last day as the farmers celebrated simply being seen and being heard.

The driver from one of our donors at Gardens of Hope Canada, Charles, who drove me to Katana, looked at the fertile land and told me with sadness how war has stolen so much from this countryside. He was right. What struck me was how many young women filled the villages, while so many young men are missing — taken, displaced, or worse.

And then, the war intruded once again.

Farmers who had planted beans lost them when the seasonal rains came late and then arrived all at once in destructive floods. Just as the fields and the farmers were recovering, the M23 rebels also arrived, attacking Bukavu and the surrounding areas.

Some farmers fled their homes. Others had their belongings stolen, including the seeds and tools we provided. Young men were kidnapped or killed, accused of helping resistance groups.

One of our leaders, Busasa, sent me a voice note of gunfire outside his home. His fear took me back to my own memories of 1997–1998, when I was a child listening to the same sounds.

The ongoing conflict has forced many to abandon their fields. With the help of Free The Children Japan, I was able to get humanitarian aid into Bukavu at the height of the conflict. At great risk, my cousin Michel had to cross into Rwanda to buy food as M23 created a blockade cutting off supply routes.

It feels like history repeating itself. When I left DRC in 1998 at 11 years old, and now nearly 30 years later, I am watching another generation of young Congolese having their futures stolen. War has never brought our people peace — it only prolongs suffering, creating wounds in our land, our communities and our hearts that last for generations.

And yet, I cannot give up hope. I believe in this project because I saw with my own eyes the resilience of the farmers and the impact even our small, locally led initiative can have. I saw the determination of Sarah, one of our participants, who stepped up to lead and ask questions, encouraging other women. I saw miles walked by farmers just to attend training, because they wanted to grow, to learn, to live.

The war may delay us, but it cannot destroy us. With support from others such as the Park Rangers Widows and Orphans Project, Free The Children Japan, Renew SCIO, Gardens of Hope, and the faith of those who continue to believe in this vision, we will return.

By July 2026, we are preparing to restart training in Katana and expand into livestock projects for farmers from Phase One of the project. By September, I hope we will once again see young farmers sowing seeds of resilience, seeds of dignity, seeds of hope.

I hold close these words of my late father. This is why I continue. Not because it is easy, but because it is right.

To all those who have supported us — know that you are not only funding agriculture. You are restoring hope in a land that has endured far too much. You are part of a story that is still being written, one harvest at a time.