“Welcome to Soweto,” reads the name of a small store, with the flags of South Africa and DR Congo either side of the phrase. The small maroon container shop deals in everyday products, from soft drinks to lotions. A young man, perhaps noticing my curiosity reading the words, approaches me, grinningly inviting me to the boutique. “You’re welcome, this is Soweto,” as if to confirm what I had just read. Yet, this is not Soweto. The South African township lies more than 2700km away. This is in Mubambiro or Bambiro, depending on who you ask, outside of Goma city in eastern DR Congo. Bambiro is Kinyarwanda, the language spoken in Rwanda, but also by millions of people across the Great Lakes region, including in eastern DR Congo. It comes from the verb ‘Kubamba’, or ‘to crucify’ in Kinyarwanda’. Loosely, Bambiro is a place of crucifixion. While the kiosk is far away from the South African township it is named after, it is by far not the closest you come to South Africa around here. Just across from the shop, some 35m away, lies a gated South African installation, complete with a South African flag painting on a blue gate. Through the wicket, I see men in South African military uniform peeping. A few others can be seen watching on from elevated watchtowers around the large, fortified compound. This is the Bambiro base of South African contingent deployed to DR Congo in late 2023 as part of a three-nation combat force of the Southern African Development Community (SADC), named SAMIDRC, or SADC Mission in DRC. The other troop contributing countries to the mission are Malawi and Tanzania. A woman in casual wear – a pair of blue-yellow-and-black summer shorts, and a grey sweater and pair of backless slip-ons – comes through the pedestrian gate, approaching us on what appeared to be a quick fact-finding mission. I step forward, introducing myself, and telling her I was touring the Bambiro military installation and stopped by to say hello, and possibly get a comment. What became of SAMIRDC’s withdrawal plan? On learning I was a journalist she seems to withdraw a bit, saying that none of the soldiers at the South African base at the time was in position to speak to journalist. “Even off the record.” “Our bosses are not around,” she says. “Those are the ones who maybe would have talked to you.” I’m interested in knowing if the South African SAMIDRC contingent had officially been briefed about the decision by the SADC Heads of State and Government to terminate the controversial mandate of the force, and, if so, had any withdrawal plan been communicated? “No comment, my brother,” she says, as we are shortly joined by two of her keen-looking plainclothes colleagues along with another man who is quick to tell me he’s a Congolese national who’s previously lived in South Africa and is now a voluntary translator for the South Africans. Clad in a sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of Adidas joggers, a Malawian SAMIDRC soldier whom I had briefly engaged earlier as he strolled outside their base, approaches us. He seems familiar among the locals around and is comfortably interacting with the young and old in Swahili. “Ask him,” the South African female soldier jokingly deflects my question to the Malawian, who also shies away from discussing the issue of SAMIDRC’s withdrawal plan. “No, I already said no,” he responds quickly, both smiling and exchanging greetings as they quietly walk away from me, and over to a relaxed youthful M23 officer a short distance away. I had asked M23 officers if it was okay for me to head over to the SAMIDRC camps, which they did not object to, although they looked uncomfortable with the idea. Whether at Mubambiro/Bambiro or any other M23-controlled sites with SADC troops, including at Goma airport, M23 forces generally keep a respectful distance, preferring only to engage with them through official channels. SADC forces in these areas are confined to their bases with M23 authorising their movement, or any delivery of supplies. Smiles and warm pleasantries “How are you, my friend,” the South African says to the uniformed M23 soldier, the three smiling and exchanging warm pleasantries. They are no strangers. With their backs now turned against the probing eyes – and ears – of a journalist, the two SAMIDC soldiers appear more relaxed and eager to catch up with the M23 officer. The three engage in a friendly chat, the Malawian soldier using the opportunity to showcase his improving Swahili skills. To the civilian in me, it’s a slightly surreal experience watching M23 and SAMIRC soldiers interact, laugh together and share a light moment – knowing the simmering tension around the unwelcome presence of the SADC forces in the M23-controlled territory. These are 15 or so minutes of invaluable insight. Initially, the two male South African soldiers look more like silent investigators who just came to scan the environment, one of them looking withdrawn altogether. I introduce myself to them, as well, and gradually they somewhat relax, one of them even appearing ready for a brief conversation. ‘We are doing well’ How are you keeping? I shoot (well, a question). “We are doing well, no problem at all,” the apparently older one tells me. But, like their female colleague, he’s determined not to give away too much. How is your relationship with M23? I ask, anyway. “My brother, we are not complaining, no problem at all,” he says, their visibly animated Congolese ‘translator’ now trying to interrupt in a manner suggesting he’s probably under the influence. I probed further, asking if they had been briefed on any withdrawal plan, to which he just responded, “no comment, no comment.” Then, the South African duo, along with their ‘voluntary translator’ walk back toward their base, joining a few eager-looking and uniformed colleagues at the gate. But their female colleague and her Malawian counterpart made a point not to leave before sharing a banter. I asked how important the ‘Welcome to Soweto’ and the other small businesses right in front of the South African camp were to SAMIDRC, and each teased the other insisting the other’s contingent were the biggest clients of the small businesses. Aside from a few kiosks, there are also women vendors selling fruits and vegetables on wooden stalls. We part ways, and the two South African and Malawian soldiers proceed to the South African base, joining their mostly uniformed SAMIDRC colleagues at the gate. I later learn that the sociable South African female officer and her Swahili-speaking Malawian counterpart are both intelligence officers. As I continue my tour of Bambiro, the M23-held military installation I’m fortunate to visit for the second time since February, I walk past the Malawian contingent. I notice a few soldiers are craning their necks from inside their compound to know what’s going on outside. Lying south of the Malawian camp is that of Tanzanian SAMIDRC troops, and then a base of MONUSCO (UN peacekeepers) on the edges of Lake Kivu. SAMIDRC camps here, just like their colleagues in other M23-controlled areas, are flying the white flag, a symbol of surrender. Bambiro barracks was seized by the M23 on January25 before the rebels eventually took the city of Goma three days later. Growing impatience, frustration There are still around 4000 SADC troops confined to their camps in areas under M23 control after nearly 200 of them – mostly the critically injured – returned to their respective home countries last month. The M23 commanders that I spoke to both at Mubambiro and Goma airport last week said they had not received any instructions or updates regarding the planned phased withdrawal of the SADC troops. “They should never have come in the first place,” one of them said, suggesting growing impatience and frustration among M23 commanders about the situation. One even cast doubt on the true intentions of SADC leaders, adding that, when it comes to the mandate of SAMIDRC, they have a tendency of publicly saying one thing but secretly doing another. Once again, this reporter was told by one commander they had information South Africa had tried to conduct a surprise air attack on Goma airport akin to the famous the Israeli commando raid of Entebbe airport in Uganda in the 1970s. An unwelcome force “My advice is for SADC to go ahead and implement what their own leaders decided,” he said. “Everything else is a waste of time.” The runway at the airport is blocked with abandoned military equipment and vehicles, while the control tower remains a ruin, rendering the facility inoperable. Indeed, the mutual smiles and warmth that I witnessed in Mubambiro are nothing more than just that – a show of courtesy and the African philosophy of Ubuntu – but in the eyes of the M23, SAMIDRC remains a hostile force that must leave as soon as yesterday. “They came to kill Congolese citizens, we are only fighting for our rights and you come to eliminate us, now they’re literally prisoners of war, what are they still doing here?” one M23 commander added. “They are abusing the magnanimity we extended to them.” One thing is for sure, SADC forces may be welcome to Soweto, but not to the M23-controlled territories of DR Congo.
