It starts with smoke – a single column of black smoke rising on the other side of the village. Then a second, a third. Houses are burning. Soon, the sound of gunshots and screaming. This has been the reality for millions of people in Cabo Delgado, northern Mozambique since the conflict started in October 2017. The ongoing violence has displaced 583,000 people.
“When they came to kill us, we ran and hid in the bushes,” recalls Zacarias, 31. He and his family fled with nothing but the clothes they were wearing. “I carried my grandmother on my back as we walked for 3 days from 1 a.m. to 1 p.m. over 100km,” he describes.
They only rested when it was too hot to walk. The whole village fled together.
“There were over 2,000 people in the bushes, but it was completely silent because we were in shock. We saw so many dead people on the way, who died from thirst, or simply they were too ill or old to flee. The only sound I could hear was when someone was crying,” Zacarias describes.
In the chaos of fleeing, parents lose their children, and families are split when they run in different directions. Those unable to flee are taken or killed.
“My brother was in the field when they came. His wife and 2 small daughters were with him when they killed all the men on the fields,” says Joaquima, 35, a farmer. “My sister-in-law had to sit on the ground. The 2 girls, 2 and 5-year-old, had to sit left and right from her when they dropped my brother’s head onto her lap and left.”
Some family members are taken and have not been seen since.
“My 12-year-old son was taken, and we do not know where he is, or if he is still alive,” says Jamal, 37, a carpenter.
Every person fleeing has similar stories of death, loss, fear, and terror. In the first quarter of 2024 alone, 189,000 people were newly displaced. A total of 205 security incidents in the first half of the year have forced whole communities to leave everything behind and flee.
“There was no more food”
“We survived the attacks, but we were suffering. Where we fled, there was nothing. In the beginning, there were food distributions, but then there was no more food,” says Zacarias.
“We were hungry, so we decided to return home. It is better to suffer at home than somewhere unknown,” Zacarias continues.
“Our families are currently in the bush to find water,” Ancha, 50, explains.
Finding water is a big challenge. Rivers are far away, waterholes have dried up due to drought, and groundwater is too salty to drink. Building new boreholes is very expensive.
“If we find water, it looks like this,” says Ancha, holding up a bottle of milky, yellowish water. “It makes us very sick, but it is the only water we have,” she adds, pouring the water into a plastic cup and drinking a few precious drops.
The conflict has made it even more difficult to access water, where in the rural communities already only 37% have access to potable drinking water.
To address these needs, CARE – with the support of the European Union – is constructing and rehabilitating wells, water points, and latrines, and the water infrastructure in communities and camps for displaced persons is being sustainably improved. CARE also trains water committees to maintain these facilities.
“We were hungry, so we decided to return home. It is better to suffer at home than somewhere unknown,” Zacarias says.
Coping with fear and loss
In the conflict area many schools remain closed. Teachers have fled and are too afraid to return.
“My children have not gone to school for 4 years. I feel helpless and as if I am losing. Time is passing. My kids are growing, and I worry they will not have a future,” says Jamal.
“When we receive medicine supply, it immediately runs out in a couple of hours. Our baby had a fever a week ago and there was no one here who could help us. There are no immunizations for the children, and no support for women giving birth,” describes Zacarias.
On top of all the challenges, the communities have lived through trauma. With funding from the European Union, CARE and its partner organizations Save the Children, Norwegian People’s Aid, and ShelterBox provide trainings and psychosocial support to help people cope with fear and loss. Additionally, safe spaces are being created for women and children, who are particularly at risk of violence.
“I have learnt how to deal with what happened. It helps to hear what other women have gone through. We have learnt to be a community again; to talk to each other and I am able to put my trauma in words. To speak about when we ran into the bush and returned to find food, that they followed us and started killing us. That my house was set on fire. And that we managed to flee the violence but were caught in a car accident 50km before our destination. My 4-year-old son was immediately dead,” concludes Ancha.
Joaquima, whose brother was beheaded, is worried about the children. “His daughters have seen the worst. They remember everything. I do not know how they will cope with something so horrendous in the future,” she says, before taking a bucket to collect water from the river. She passes houses that have been destroyed. The roof of a house painted blue and yellow collapsed. It was targeted because it looks pretty. It was burnt. A single column of black smoke rising into the sky.