By Quinton Nicuete
They disappear while doing chores. They leave behind schoolbooks, worn sandals, half-filled water containers. Families search the forests, the roads, the military posts. Then the silence sets in.
“They took my son when he went to collect firewood,” says the mother of Amade (not his real name).
Amade was 13 when he left home in 2022 from the community of Mocojo. He never returned.
“He went out in the morning to collect firewood and never returned.”
Days earlier, armed men had been seen moving through nearby forests. No alert was issued. No evacuation was ordered. The community was left to carry on as normal.
The family reported the disappearance to local authorities.
“They told us to wait, that they were investigating,” Amade’s uncle says.
Three years later, there has been no update. No confirmation. No explanation.
Amade’s case is not listed in any public registry of missing children. No investigation outcome has been shared with the family. Like many others in Cabo Delgado, the case has quietly disappeared.
A pattern hiding in plain sight
According to data collected by the Institute of Psychology and Peace of Mozambique (IPPM), child recruitment is rising across Cabo Delgado, particularly in Ancuabe, Chiúre, Nangade, Muidumbe, Mocímboa da Praia, Macomia, Palma, and Quissanga.
The August 2025 IPPM report documents children as young as 10 being abducted or recruited during routine daily activities such as fetching water, collecting firewood, and going to the fields. These are not random kidnappings. They follow a pattern.
“Armed groups exploit social vulnerability and the lack of effective protection,” said a technician from IPPM
In many cases, communities have already reported Armed groups nearby. Warnings were communicated informally but were never translated into preventive action. Schools remained closed or destroyed. Patrols were sporadic. Children continued to move alone through unsafe areas.
Extreme climatic events have compounded the risk. Cyclones have displaced families, wiped out livelihoods, and pushed children out of school—making them easier targets for armed groups promising food, protection, or belonging.
Training children to commit violence
Once taken, children are quickly indoctrinated in armed groups.
IPPM and partner organisations report that minors as young as 12 are trained to use knives and machetes. Adolescents receive firearms training. Many are forced to participate in violent acts early on a tactic experts say is used to discourage resistance and ensure o bedience.
“Children are subjected to a process of progressive dehumanisation,” says a psychologist working with survivors in reintegration centres. “The trauma does not end when they le ave the armed group.”
Girls face additional abuse. Save the Children and UNICEF Mozambique report forced marriages, sexual exploitation, and ongoing psychological violence. Many girls return pregnant, facing stigma and rejection from their community.
Non‑state armed groups do not only recruit girls, subjecting them to violence and exploitation, but also boys, who are equally coerced into combat and support roles. Deprived of education and family life, both suffer profound trauma that undermines their physical and psychological health and weakens the social fabric of their communities.
According to Rumbidzai Dhliwayo, Child Protection Officer at Plan International in Cabo Delgado, recruitment is intensifying.
“Children are recruited through force or enticement, exploiting poverty, lack of occupation, and absence from school,” she says. “They are used as fighters, spies, weapon carriers, cooks, domestic slaves, and sexual partners.”
This constitutes one of the gravest violations of child rights in the province. Yet prosecutions are virtually non-existent.
Escape is not the end
Some children manage to escape during military operations. Others are rescued. Between 2024 and 2025, child protection organizations reported that 800 children were rescued by the Mozambican Defense and Security Forces and Rwandan troops in Cabo Delgado.
What happens next is far less certain.
“Sara (fictitious name) is back, but she’s not the same child,” said a relative.
Sara was taken from the Mbau, in Mocímboa da Praia district, at the age of 12. After months with an armed group, she escaped during a military offensive and was rescued by local forces. She now lives in a displaced community.
“She barely spoke. She was afraid to sleep alone,” the family member said. “At school, other children called her names.”
Médecins Sans Frontières staff working on similar cases say reintegration is one of the most fragile stages.
“Without continuous support, these children are at risk of revictimisation or re-recruitment,” says a social worker.
Yet support is often short-term.
Where protection systems fail
Mozambique has national child protection policies, but in Cabo Delgado, implementation is often uneven and under-resourced.
Plan International and the International Organization for Migration (IOM) cite weak coordination between sectors, lack of dedicated budgets for reintegration, and a shortage of specialised technicians in the most affected districts.
A psychosocial technician in Ancuabe says most assistance focuses on immediate counselling, with limited follow-up. Family reunification often stalls due to logistical and financial constraints.
In a recent case in Meluco, the identification of a child separated from their family, with the possibility of reintegration in Ancuabe, highlighted the logistical challenges affecting family reunification in contexts of armed violence. Although family members were successfully traced, the process was delayed due to limited access to essential medication required before the child could travel safely.
The lack of available medicines in local health facilities forced responders to rely on minimal resources and ad hoc support, slowing down the process. These constraints were compounded by insecurity along access routes and limited transportation options.
This case illustrates how basic logistical barriers can significantly delay family reunification and prolong the vulnerability of children affected by conflict in Cabo Delgado.
These cases are handled individually, often without a functioning tracking system. There is no publicly accessible database of recruited or missing children. Community reports frequently do not match official figures.
Provincial authorities for Gender, Children, and Social Action acknowledge the challenges but insist progress is being made. However, they rarely provide disaggregated data showing how many children are identified, traced, reintegrated, or monitored long-term.
Official narratives, ground realities
Governor Valige Tauabo has highlighted the ongoing insecurity in Cabo Delgado, particularly in coastal districts and urban areas absorbing displaced populations such as Pemba and Chiúre.
“We have many internally displaced people… who need a lot of support because our situation is not the best,” Tauabo said. He added that returns depend on continued operations by the Defence and Security Forces.
While Tauabo does not directly address child recruitment and use, human rights groups say insecurity and displacement are key drivers of the phenomenon.
Provincial Secretary of State Fernando Bemane has said protection and humanitarian activities are ongoing and can be resolved locally through coordination between district and provincial governments.
“The work of the United Nations Office for Project Services (UNOPS) is ongoing, despite difficulties,” Bemane said.
But on the ground, families say coordination rarely translates into prevention.
A crime without accountability
Human rights experts stress that child recruitment and use are not only humanitarian concerns they are serious crimes under national and international law.
Yet there are no known prosecutions linked specifically to child recruitment and use in Cabo Delgado. Armed groups continue to operate in areas where children have already been taken. Communities report movements. Children continue to disappear.
Displacement worsens the risk.
According to the National Institute for Disaster Risk Management and Reduction (INGD), around 1.2 million people have been displaced in Cabo Delgado since 2017. While 661,801 have returned voluntarily, nearly 429,000 remain in 57 displacement centres.
Between July and December 2025 alone, almost 180,000 new displacements were recorded, mainly in Chiúre, Mecuf, and Moeda. Up to 200,000 people may return by mid-2026, depending on security conditions.
INGD estimates that responding to displacement will require 27,750,727.56USD for shelter, food assistance, and agricultural support funding that remains uncertain.
For families like Amade’s, these figures are abstract.
What remains is the unanswered question of how a child could vanish in broad daylight, in a community where armed movements were known, without triggering a response that might have saved him.
In Macomia and across Cabo Delgado, children are still being recruited quietly .
And until preventive efforts, investigation, and accountability catch up, the recruitment and use of children will continue and impunity will persist. (Moz24h)
