By Salwa Mahmoud
Fear hangs heavy in Kiunga. The sound of explosions, the echo of gunfire, and the whispers of disappearance have become part of daily life. People no longer wake to birds or waves, but to uncertainty. Yet through all this, they still rise every morning with courage that refuses to die.
Kiunga has lived too long under the shadow of insecurity. Once a quiet fishing village, it now stands as a reminder of how fragile peace can be. Operation Amani Boni was meant to bring safety, but the line between protection and fear has blurred. Soldiers patrol the roads, armored vehicles roll , and the people live as silent witnesses to a battle they never asked for.
Not long ago, a commercial building was bombed in the early hours of the morning. The blast tore through the calm, shattering windows and spreading fear through the entire village. No one knows who did it or why, but everyone knows what it means ,danger is still close.
Then Mothers wait for sons who never return. Families whisper about masked men and unanswered questions. Civil society groups have raised alarm, demanding truth and accountability, but their cries fade into official silence.
The fear grows louder with the sound of weapons being tested near homes. The ground shakes, walls tremble, and children scream in the night. Elders sit quietly, listening, wondering if war has returned. “Sometimes it feels like we are under attack,” one resident said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
But in this place of fear, there is also strength. Fishermen still go to sea. Shopkeepers still open their doors. Teachers still gather children to learn under trees. The people of Kiunga have refused to surrender to despair. Their resilience has become their protest, their survival a statement of hope.
Local youth groups and civil society organizations are working tirelessly to rebuild trust and bring back peace. They are helping families, speaking out against injustice, and calling for open dialogue between security forces and residents. They remind everyone that true peace cannot come from the sound of guns, but from understanding, justice, and respect.
Every evening, as darkness falls, Kiunga becomes quiet again. The sea whispers softly against the shore, and families sit close together, holding on to one another. In their silence lies strength. They have seen too much pain, but they still believe that one day, Kiunga will be known not for fear, but for peace.
