RNW journalist tells story of lucky escape in DRC

‘She just went to get some biscuits and now she’s dead’, cries the 12-year-old girl. She just witnessed the killing of her older sister. I want to find out more about the circumstances of sister's brutal death, who was shot by the Congolese police whilst trying to clean the streets of Kinshasa. A few hours later, I myself will be arrested.
By Anneke Verbraeken

It’s Saturday December 10th, one day after the results of the elections are presented by CENI, the organisation responsible for the elections in DRC. President Joseph Kabila is the newly elected president, his strongest opponent Etienne Tshisekedi finished in second place. In some neighbourhoods of Kinshasa the situation is tense. Supporters of Tshisekedi are angry and say that Kabila stole their votes to become president again. I see people gathering in the streets, talking about the results. Some burn tyres, others just talk to each other.

Nearby the police storm into a street where a large group of people has gathered - something Kabila has forbidden. It is not allowed to be with more than two or three people at any one time in the DRC. The police start shooting to clear the street. I am later told that they had to run for their lives. It was at this moment that a young mother opened the door of her house, clutching her baby, to go and buy some biscuits. But she got shot, and fell to the ground, the baby unharmed and still resting in her arms.
Murder
The devastated family shows my cameraman and me to the place where she got shot. They show us their house. To get more information about the number of people wounded and killed over the past days, we decide to go to the general hospital. The brother of the dead woman and an uncle come with us, to show us the way.
On arrival I look for the head of the hospital to get authorisation for filming and interviewing some of the wounded who were brought in. The cameraman stays behind to film the entrance. I go with the uncle and brother to the reception desk. But none of the real bosses appear to be around. We are told that the bosses decided to stay at home today – judging the streets of Kinshasa to be too dangerous to leave the house. We hear that a doctor at the morgue may be able to help us, so we go to try and find him.
We are almost at the morgue when a man in civilian clothes stops us. He asks us where we are going. The uncle and the brother start arguing with the man. But after ten minutes of endless discussion, I give up and tell the brother and uncle that we should go. This man is clearly never going to consent to us going in.

Prison
This is when things start to go wrong for me. We are not allowed to go in but instead we’re brought inside the hospital compound (the morgue lies across the street, outside the hospital compound). We are told not to phone anyone. I ignore the order and made two quick phone calls on my mobile phone - one to my lawyer in Holland to ask him to call the Dutch embassy in DRC, and one to warn my cameraman who is still filming outside. After waiting a while we are taken across the street to a place that looks like a prison. I start to have a bad feeling about things. This is a place where people can easily disappear, without leaving a trace. When I see written on a wall the words ‘Presidential Guard’, my instincts prove to be right. These are no guys to fool around with.
I still have no idea why I have been brought here, but after hours of questioning, it becomes clearer and clearer that they are military intelligence and that first, they do not want any foreign journalists hanging around the morgue, second, they don’t want any foreign journalists telling the world the police shoots its own people, and third, they are very keen to know my source. “Who told you that girl was shot dead?” they demand. I don’t give them my source. This could put a lot of people at risk and it would not help to get me out.
Lucky escape
In the meantime, the Dutch embassy comes looking for me at the hospital. First without success but luckily my cameraman had spotted where I had been taken. All afternoon he was trying to find the right person to get me out of my situation. In the I succeed thanks to a fistful of dollars.
Accompanied by the Dutch embassy, I take the first flight out of DRC to the Netherlands. But I am worried. What happened to the uncle and brother of the dead woman? As far as I know, they were not released. In DRC they can be accused of high treason because they informed foreign journalists that the police were shooting their own people.
I am told that the Dutch embassy is investigating the matter further.