Elegantly orchestrated tweets and chirps glide between thatched huts, complementing the drifting scent of cooking rice dishes and tropical flowers. Children can be heard playing a vigorous game on the other side of the small village. I sit on a rock awaiting the preparation of a much needed lunch, when suddenly I hear an out of place hiss coming from nearby. A ground splitting explosion is heard and felt, and I look back to see two huts missing, now raining from the sky as little bits of rubble. Screams tear through the shocked silence, accompanied by multiple bangs and rat-tat-tats from the bushes. Hell broke loose far too quickly.
I hobble along on my wounded leg, marveling at how lucky I am compared to the other members of your village; parents gritting their teeth, trying to survive their gun shot wounds just long enough to carry their maimed children to safety. Everyone in the small group is caked in filth and drenched in sweat, and more than half are wearing a mixture of fresh and dried blood. The sun beats down harshly upon me, as if I don't already have enough to worry about.
Just as I think you might collapse under a tree and give up, I reach the summit of another ridge and spy thatched roofs less than a mile ahead. As I approach, I am spotted by a group of professional looking soldiers donning sky-blue helmets. They see my group's condition and quickly relay a message through the village to more blue-helmeted soldiers. Within minutes, medical-looking personnel are tending to the injured, using strange, sterile looking materials and devices they take from large plastic boxes. UN machine guns bristle from all sides of the village, giving me a distinctly smug sense of safety. I stay the night in a tent, fed, bandaged, and already feeling a little better. I am safe and alive, at least for now. At least for one night.
-Fictional Congolese Citizen
After a brief but diabolical period of chaos during the 1960s in the Congo, due to the fact that the country wasn't ready for its independence, the United Nations were asked to intervene and restore peace. 10,000 UN troops were sent to the Congo with four clear instructions: "Restore law and order and maintain it. Stop other nations from getting involved with the crisis. Assist in building the nation’s economy. Restore political stability." They were also told not to side with any particular government group and to use force only in self defence.
While at first the UN forces weren't very helpful in quelling the fighting, they eventually were granted permission to help the new Congolese parliament defeat one rebellious government group. They were successful and the country was finally brought into a state of fragile unison. Their involvement in this operation saved the lives of thousands of under trained soldiers who would have needed to fight the rebels themselves.
But that was in the 1960s. Today, the UN is back with a force 20,000 strong for peacekeeping operations. They're protecting civilians and helping to restore damaged parts of the country. Some criticize that they aren't focusing on the real problem, saying that they're doing nothing to stop the still ever present threat of rebels. Especially in the eastern part of the country, rebels are still roaming freely and killing, plundering, and raping wherever they go. To the citizens who are safe and healthy, the UN forces are the angels in the sky blue helmets. To the hundreds of thousands of rape victims, they don't seem to give a gorilla's rear. Is the UN doing enough?