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Death, Culture, and Conflict: A Qualitative Study on Sociocultural Practices and Their Implications for Maternal and Perinatal Death Surveillance in Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo

This qualitative study in Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo reveals how conflict-disrupted sociocultural practices, including stigmatized burial rituals and spiritual attributions of blame, hinder the disclosure and reporting of maternal and perinatal deaths, thereby undermining surveillance systems and necessitating culturally responsive, community-engaged interventions.

Original authors: Mary, M., Chimanuka Murhimaalika, C., Chiribagula Zalinga, C., Mugisho Byamungu, C., Mwene-Batu, P., Grant, E., Bigirinama Nshobole, R., Ngaboyeka, G., Ekambi, S., Tappis, H., Bisimwa Balaluka, G.

Published 2026-07-27
📖 5 min read🧠 Deep dive

Original authors: Mary, M., Chimanuka Murhimaalika, C., Chiribagula Zalinga, C., Mugisho Byamungu, C., Mwene-Batu, P., Grant, E., Bigirinama Nshobole, R., Ngaboyeka, G., Ekambi, S., Tappis, H., Bisimwa Balaluka, G.

Original paper licensed under CC BY 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). ⚕️ This is an AI-generated explanation of a preprint that has not been peer-reviewed. It is not medical advice. Do not make health decisions based on this content. Read full disclaimer

Imagine the world of public health not just as a place of hospitals and medicine, but as a giant, invisible web of stories. When a person dies, especially a mother or a baby, that story doesn't just end; it gets woven into the culture, the religion, and the daily life of a community. Think of "surveillance" in this context not as a spy with a camera, but as a community trying to keep a scorecard of who is coming and going. If the community decides, "Oh, this baby never really joined the club, so we won't write their name down," or "This mother died because of a ghost, so we can't tell the doctors," the scorecard becomes a blank page. Without a real scorecard, the doctors can't fix the game. This is the heart of the puzzle: how do deep-seated beliefs about death, magic, and family honor stop us from counting the tragedies that we need to prevent?

This paper dives into that exact mystery in the Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), a place where life is already hard because of long-running wars and conflict. The researchers wanted to understand why the official system for tracking maternal and perinatal deaths (called MPDSR) is missing so many cases. They didn't just look at medical charts; they went into the villages and talked to 49 people, including grieving parents, village chiefs, and health workers. They found that the way people mourn, bury, and explain death is like a secret code that often keeps the health system in the dark.

Here is what the study discovered, translated into plain English:

The "Ghost" in the Burial Ground
The researchers found that how a body is treated depends entirely on who died. If a mother dies, it is a huge, solemn event. The community gathers, mourns for days, and follows strict rules. One fascinating rule they found is that if a pregnant woman dies, her spirit and the baby's spirit must be separated before they can rest. Sometimes, if a doctor can't perform a surgery to separate them, the community does something symbolic: they bury the mother next to a banana tree or burn banana leaves on her stomach to "cut" the connection. In some cases, they even have to carry her body across a river before burying her, leaving the baby's spirit behind on the other side.

But if a baby dies (either a stillbirth or a newborn), the rules change completely. The paper suggests that in these communities, a baby who hasn't "shared life" with the village yet—perhaps hasn't even cut their teeth or spoken a word—is often seen as less of a full person. Consequently, these deaths are often buried immediately, sometimes in secret spots in the forest, and without the big, public mourning ceremonies given to adults. Men are often forbidden from burying these tiny bodies; it's left to the mothers or elderly women. Because these burials happen so fast and so quietly, the health system often never even knows the baby died.

The "Magic" Explanation
When things go wrong, the paper found that people often look for a reason that makes sense to them, even if it's not medical. A lot of the time, deaths are blamed on witchcraft or spirits.

  • If a mother dies, people might say, "She was bewitched by an enemy," or "Her husband was unfaithful, and that anger killed her."
  • If a baby dies, the mother might be accused of being a witch herself, or the pregnancy might be described as "stolen" by magic.
  • Sometimes, the blame falls on the husband for not taking his wife to the hospital, or on the doctors for "hiding the truth."

This creates a massive barrier. If a family believes a death was caused by a curse, they might not want to tell the health workers because they fear being blamed or punished. They might keep the death a secret to protect the family's reputation. One participant even said, "You can't mourn in the middle of a crackling bullet," highlighting how the ongoing war makes it impossible to follow these traditions safely, further scrambling the data.

The "Blame Game"
The study also highlighted a cycle of fear. When a death happens, the community often looks for someone to blame. If a doctor is from a different tribe or ethnic group than the family, the tension can be high, and the family might accuse the doctor of causing the death. This fear makes health workers run away from their jobs, and it makes families hide the truth. The paper suggests that this "blame game" is a major reason why deaths aren't reported.

What This Means for the Future
The researchers conclude that you can't just force a standard reporting system onto a community that has its own deep, complex rules about death. If the health system wants to know the real numbers, they have to speak the community's language.

  • They suggest that instead of just asking doctors, they should talk to the people who actually handle the burials: the village chiefs for mothers, and the elderly women who bury the babies.
  • They need to understand where these secret burials happen (like near banana trees or in specific forest clearings) to find the missing cases.
  • Most importantly, they need to build trust so that families don't feel like they are being accused of witchcraft or negligence when they share their stories.

In short, the paper suggests that to save lives, we first have to understand the stories people tell about death. If we ignore the cultural rules and the fear of blame, the "scorecard" will always be wrong, and the preventable deaths will keep happening in the shadows.

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