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This Boy Hasn’t Spoken Since He Watched His Mother Die What the Headlines Won’t Tell You About Congo Mental health crisis DRC

  • Writer: Sebastian Sivillica
    Sebastian Sivillica
  • Apr 20
  • 3 min read

Updated: May 14


Cover of the memoir 'I Saw the Silence' by Paolo Sebastiano Silvilli, placed on a minimalist desk with sunlight and shadows a powerful book about mental health and survival in Congo



Mental health crisis DRC


There are places where silence doesn’t mean peace. It means trauma no one dares name aloud.

In the deep shadows of the Democratic Republic of Congo, silence is not absence it’s evidence. It’s the space left behind after bombs stop falling, after soldiers disappear into forests, after screams become memories too painful to describe. It's the breath before a child answers a question they’ve never been asked: “How do you survive when the war never really ends?”


For years, we’ve scrolled past headlines like “Unrest in Congo”, “Clashes with Rebels”, or the occasional stark image of children with distant eyes and dust-covered faces. But behind those headlines are stories that rarely make the news stories about trauma, resilience, survival, and healing that can’t be measured in policy reports or summarized in war statistics.


This is where I Saw the Silence begins.



About the Book

Front cover of the memoir 'I Saw the Silence' by Paolo Sebastiano Silvilli, a powerful exploration of mental health and survival in Congo’s conflict zones.

I Saw the Silence: A Memoir of Mental Health and Survival in Congo

Scan here to listen an audio sample:
Scan here to listen an audio sample:

isn’t just a memoir it’s a reckoning. Written from one mans experience embedded in conflict affected communities across the DRC, this book captures the unheard truths buried in Congo’s most vulnerable places.


From quiet villages still haunted by war to overcrowded mental health wards without mattresses, this is a story told in whispers of child soldiers who haven’t spoken since losing their families, women who carry invisible wounds, and a country where trauma has no translation, only ritual.

“This book is not about war. It’s about what war leaves behind. And what it means to truly listen when no one else will.”

What Makes This Book Different


An elderly Congolese man sitting alone in the shadows, clutching a photo of his lost daughter. Behind him, the words urge: 'Don’t let their stories die with them. Bear witness. Speak. Share. Act





  • It doesn’t sensationalize trauma. It

  • humanizes it.

  • It’s not a travelogue. It’s a frontline mental health narrative.

  • It’s not about fixing Congo. It’s about witnessing it through the eyes of those who’ve survived.

  • It doesn’t offer easy hope. It offers honest truth — and the kind of healing that begins with being seen.




The Facts That Inspired the Memoir

Empty rusted hospital bed under a barred window in a crumbling mental health ward in Congo, with peeling walls and a torn medical file on the ground — symbolizing neglect and forgotten lives.

The DRC has a Mental health crisis fewer than 1 psychiatrist per 1 million people.


  • Decades of war have left millions internally displaced, many without access to psychological care.

  • Trauma survivors often turn to faith healers and spiritual leaders because formal systems don’t exist.

  • Children conscripted as soldiers face lifelong psychological wounds many are never even diagnosed.

  • There is no national trauma recovery strategy despite generations affected by conflict.




  • Why This Story Matters Now


Young Congolese boy sitting alone in the dirt holding stones, silent and barefoot, with a rusted pot beside him and an armored vehicle looming in the background — capturing the emotional toll of conflict on children.

Because silence kills. And not just in Congo.

It kills when stories go untold. It kills when children who’ve seen too much stop speaking altogether. It kills when women who’ve survived assault are told it was God’s will. It kills when the global community looks away because the crisis doesn’t trend anymore.

This memoir doesn’t just expose the gaps in Congo’s mental health system. It invites you to fill them with awareness, support, and action.



Real Stories That Never Made the Headlines


An elderly Congolese woman sits alone on the floor of a dim, broken home, wearing traditional jewelry and a headwrap. Light from a broken window highlights the deep lines of grief and resilience etched into her face. She gazes downward, lost in silent reflection, holding a small bowl in her hands.

The heartbreaking silence of this boy is just one of many untold stories woven into the pages of our newly released memoir


“I Saw the Silence.” 

Inside, you’ll walk alongside real Congolese voices not as statistics, but as people:


  • A grandmother who lost her entire family and still prays for peace.

  • A child soldier who only ever wanted to go back to school.

  • A pastor who held secret services underground, risking his life for faith.

  • A young girl who writes poetry about the jungle she once called home.



These aren't distant tragedies they’re vivid, personal, real accounts from the frontlines of Congo’s humanitarian crisis. Every story pulls back the curtain on pain, resilience, and the quiet strength of those too often ignored.

If this boy’s story moved you… just wait until you meet the others.


Read the full collection and help us give them the voice they were denied. Available now on Amazon proceeds help to support our mental health response initiatives.


Who This Book Is For

  • Humanitarians, journalists, mental health professionals.

  • Readers of memoir, human rights narratives, and trauma literature.

  • Anyone who believes that silence is never the end of the story.

  • Anyone who’s ever asked, “Why don’t we hear more about Congo?”



Take Action

A young Congolese boy sits curled up against a dirt wall in a dim, broken room. Dust covers his bare feet and legs. He hugs his knees tightly to his chest, his face hollow and distant. The overlay text reads: 'This is what silence looks like... He clutches his pain like a secret he'll never speak.

Every copy supports more awareness, visibility, and ultimately advocacy for the survivors who shared their stories. Every reader becomes a witness.


Your donation helps fund real-world mental health support, education, and trauma-informed care in the Congo. Let’s rebuild what war tried to erase.




Silence is a choice. So is breaking it.

 
 
 

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