Becoming a refugee

Nevertheless, from the 1990s onwards, something which was only supposed to be temporary little by little became definitive. A process of permanent settlement began to take shape. Not by choice, more by obligation: in the Congo (which was still called Zaire at the time) the economic and political situation was worsening. President Mobutu’s management of the country pushed it towards crisis, the military pillages and riots put towns to the fire and the sword, against a background of wars of aggression waged by Ugandan and Rwandan neighbours. The human cost is to this day the subject of controversy.

Between 500,000 and a million Congolese fled their land to try and obtain political refugee status abroad, including 20,000 in Belgium. The people who now frequented the Matogne were nothing like the rich Mobutists. Purchasing power was sluggish and the shops lost their lustre. Much like the rest of the neighbourhood.

A certain juvenile delinquency emerged and several ‘urban gangs’ made their appearance, such as the ‘New Jack’, ‘Black demolition’ and ‘Kung Fu.’ Several fatal incidents took place. In February 2001 a presumed dealer was shot down by a police officer after a pursuit, even though he wasn’t armed. The incident sparked riots in the neighbourhood. In March 2002, Patrick, a young Belgian of Congolese origin, was stabbed to death in the Ixelles shopping galleries. His attackers had wanted to steal his mobile phone. In May 2002 a shoot-out took place on Rue Neuve, and five people were injured. Etc., etc. Amplified by the media prism, Matogne seemed more then ever the temple of insecurity and ‘small time criminality.’ Acts of violence which at first took the form of ‘in house’ affairs: clashes, rapes and sometimes murders (5 deaths recorded in 2009) were perpetrated by Congolese against other Congolese. Today the police and prevention services have counted between 18 and 24 groups, called ‘urban gangs’, to the great disappointment of the community associations.

‘The so called urban gangs appeared over the course of the 1990s,’ states Sarah Demart. ‘At the beginning it involved minor scuffles which settled scores between shop keepers. Then the younger generation was inspired by them and formed hybrid groups. These young people found themselves in Matogne because they had nowhere else to go, such as cultural sites which would have permitted them not to roam the streets.’

For the Congolese associations these young people were above all ‘in default’, lacking identity reference points, sidelined from any integration policy and feeling the victims of discrimination, including on the part of the police forces. ‘In a strongly racialised Belgian society, there remains a racism towards the Congolese which is hard to imagine,’ she states.

Discrimination at the job interview as well. The unemployment levels amongst the Congolese are higher than any other population in Belgium. A paradox: their level of higher education is the equivalent of or even higher than that of the population as a whole. Men in particular have a tendency to gain several qualifications. A postcolonial revenge? ‘We could in effect see in it a link with the history of the country,’ explains Sarah Demart. ‘Belgian colonisation seemed to act along the lines of the concept of ‘no elite, no problem.’ In the Congo there was a very good primary education system. But no elite had been educated or trained up. The first university was founded in 1956, or just four years before independence. It’s too short a period for the students to terminate their curriculum. Today we can only note that a Congolese elite is struggling to emerge in Belgium.’