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MILITIAS CONTROL MINING TERRITORIES. They mine and export the minerals themselves or they “tax” the locals who do the work for them. Everyone seems to be in on the action: Corrupt government officials who orchestrate shady contracts; foreign militias; foreign governments who back militias; the Congolese army; the Mai Mai and other homegrown militias; and of course, the Interahamwe, who control the majority of mines in South Kivu.

The New York Times will later run a report on an operation run by a renegade Congolese army brigade that controls a remote, mineral-rich area. The brigade, journalist Lydia Polgreen writes, is the “master of every hilltop as far as the eye can see.” Unchallenged, they employ locals at ultralow wages to mine and lug loads of ore via remote forest trails to the nearest road, where the goods are trucked to a stretch of road that serves as a landing strip for Soviet-era cargo planes that fly the minerals to Goma or out of Congo.

How much does a guy make if he carves out his own slice of this pie? One official estimates that this operation makes US$300,000 to US$600,000 in “taxes” alone. This operation is estimated to be worth as much as US$80 million a year.

The goods are illegally exported to countries like Rwanda or Uganda and are in turn shipped to processing plants, primarily in Asia. Eventually, large corporations buy them and distribute these “conflict riches” around the world in the form of our favorite consumer goods: diamond engagement rings, Sony PlayStations, sleek new MacBook Airs, or our ever-precious CrackBerries.

But rebel groups can only control the minerals if they control the territory. And they can only control the territory if they control the people. And there is one age-old way to control the people: terror. As one Harvard researcher puts it, there seems to be a “competition among armed groups to be the most brutal.”

As we continue on, Eric recounts story after story of conflict in the area. Their office attacked and looted. In 2004, Nkunda’s militia came to his home. “They attacked my home, with my wife and three kids. They said, ‘Nkunda’s people sent word for Eric.’”

“They know you by name?” I ask.

“Yeah. Most of them were working at the airport and around. They demanded US$10,000, saying otherwise you are killed. They found my wife. She had all our money on her, hidden under her clothes. After pushing her, they found the money. While they were counting and distributing the money, she escaped through their legs and hid.

“All these women were raped. I don’t like to remember. Fortunately, we were saved. Everyone hid us by saying, ‘I don’t know where he is.’ I hid two weeks in one house. I saved my passport, car, and family. Everything else was gone. I saw myself dying, you know. After that, I moved to Bukavu.”

These days, Eric commutes to the park.

I ask him, “What is the solution?”

“Interahamwe are the priority of priorities. They constitute the center of the problem. You know, Lisa, it is easy to say, ‘This is a Congolese problem.’ But the Interahamwe were brought here by the UN.”

They were brought here by the UN. We gave them bananas.

I ask him, “Do you think about giving up the work? It’s so dangerous.”

“My country has lost five million people. I’m not better than them. I’ve been doing this work since I was twenty years old. I’ve worked in hard conditions, poverty, whatever, I don’t see what can stop me. I know what environment is. I have to assist my community.”

“Are you scared?” I ask.

“I can find a solution at any time. I was attacked at home, in my village, so I moved my family to Bukavu. If I go there and they arrest me, I can negotiate. I can a find solution to any problem, if I’m not killed.”

He smiles. “Yeah, if I’m not killed. If I die supporting my community, I go well.”

And I pat myself on the back for recycling.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sugarcane

LITTLE HEADS BOB and weave their way through the manicured tea plantation, heading in our direction, as Eric gets out of the SUV to guide