The Untold Stories of Syria's War


The Untold Stories of Syria's War

The first night we arrived in Syria, I climbed into bed exhausted from travel and the emotions of the border crossing. No sooner had my head hit the pillow than I could hear the crashing of the bombs starting outside. Welcome to Syria.

Sometimes it felt so close that my room would shake. I debated for a second—do I get up? Or do I turn on music so I can go back to sleep? I left it at first and then decided with the latter—just something to drown out the explosions. This wasn’t my first rodeo. Many times in Congo, we’d often gone to bed to the sound of gunfire or with the knowledge that bandits had tried multiple times to enter our home just that night. It comes with the territory of working in war zones, I guess.

When I woke up in the morning, however, I assumed the bombs would have ended. I was wrong by a long shot. Our whole hotel shook with each crash as fighter jets now zoomed overhead dropping the bombs a little louder. A little closer.

“Don’t worry, Cassandra, don’t worry.” Our new friends told me with a little laugh over breakfast, “Don’t be afraid.” This was their normal. War raged just a few kilometers away and it has been this way for six years. “OK, I’m not afraid, but when should I become worried?” I thought it was a fair question.

“We don’t know. We don’t know when they will strike. When a bomb comes and you feel it hit the house, that’s when it’s a concern. But we don’t know when that will be. So we keep living. All we know is that God is good. Even still. He is our protector.”

With this in mind, we packed up our things and we did, indeed, head out to carry on with life. It was my first time in Syria and everything was new. I felt like I had a million questions to ask and things to learn about. Before coming, I had assumed that so much of the country had been destroyed and that life had slowed almost to a halt. But now, here we were with our new friends (who were hilarious and fun). Everywhere we looked, people continued to go out for dinner, enjoyed picnics and, in the midst of ongoing conflict, had stories of so much hope and resilience.

After leaving the hotel, we started making house visits. I wanted to see and hear it for myself. I wanted to hear the stories and meet the families that, until now, I’d only heard about secondhand.

We started with coffee and cookies (that, as it turns out, are Syrian staples), and met with family after family who had lived through the war.

One of the most impactful days was when we got to sit with a headmaster from Aleppo who drove down to meet with us. He’d heard that we build schools in war zones, and he wanted to discuss a potential partnership on a number of education-related projects. He was appointed as the headmaster of a school through his church years before the war began, but when the conflict escalated, his school was destroyed. He reached out and shared many stories as if we were his last lifeline. His students were traumatized, his best teachers had fled as refugees, money was hard to come by, and each day, they weren’t sure if it would be their last. But in the face of an uphill battle, he knew he couldn’t quit. So he rebuilt.

“It wasn’t easy,” he told us. “After the war everything was damaged in a critical way. All the furniture was stolen. We had nothing. But we knew the power of education. That is the greatest tool to end terrorism, building schools. So we restarted and opened up our classes. We are growing a generation that knows what the word ‘love’ means.”

It felt like he spoke the exact words on my heart. This man had given everything to stand for peace.

“A bomb crashed into my neighbor’s home one night,” he told us. “It was so close we couldn’t tell at first if we were also hit. My son ran and came into our room and I just held him. ‘Can we please leave? Can we please live like refugees somewhere else, anywhere else?’ he asked me. I told him we were called here to help those who have no other choice than to stay. Every night, he still comes into my room and I hold him until he falls asleep.”

Every house we visited we seemed to find individuals who were rising up in the midst of conflict, having a stare down with war and coming out with an attitude that said, “I’m not a victim to this situation, but an architect of it.” *

We stayed in Damascus, and there we met a group of women being a bright light in the midst of a dark storm. At a time when many fled the country, these women remained. Some of them had tried to get refugee status and were denied. Others just weren’t ready to leave. “We would rather die in our home country, than live somewhere else.”

And so in the face of difficult circumstances, these women banned together and would find some of the poorest, most desperate families and do whatever they could to support them.

“We all need each other. Every day, we take what we can and try and help someone who needs it more than we do. Whether that be food, clothes or assistance to get work. Many times we don’t have enough, but God provides. We have received aid from other NGO’s and people that care, they have helped us expand what we do.”

Every day, I was so humbled by the families we met. It’s like we were given a tour of heroes of our time, believing for the restoration of their country. Living the kind of love that lays its life down for others.

“I stay and teach because my country needs me,” said Sarah, a primary school teacher, who told us how she’d stayed this long. “Why leave now? I meet students every day who are traumatized. They are fine one day and the next there is bombing on their street and they need someone to help them through the difficulties.”

When we think of Syria, my hope is that we'll continue remember these stories, and not simply think of the war and violence that have become commonplace in this nation. May we remind ourselves of the incredible resilience and courage of the Syrian people who brave living each day as they daily choose hope, love, and peace.

-Cassandra Lee, co-founder

*Quote from Simon Sinek.




Today we're launching our MATCHING CAMPAIGN for our expansion plans!

In just a few weeks, our team is traveling to the Middle East to scout out new war torn areas for potential expansion of our projects into new areas. We’ll be conducting early diligence and research, cultivating local partnerships, and seeking out areas in desperate need of education. 

As we look to grow and expand in both Congo and the Middle East, we're excited to kick off our matching campaign to support our new efforts!

A few generous donors have already pledged up to $20,000 towards a matching campaign. That means from now through April 18th, every dollar you give will be DOUBLED up to $20,000!

If you've been asking yourself how you can get involved to help with the crisis in the Middle East and bring peace to areas with conflict, here is an opportunity to do something. The time is now. Join us and see your giving multiplied!

Help us reach our goal to expand our efforts into new areas. Donate today and, together, let’s fight to give these children a future to hope for.



Syria Fact Sheet

As Syria enters its sixth year of conflict, we've put together a quick fact sheet outlining how the crisis and conflict has affected children and education in the region.

Justice Rising currently works in Eastern Congo and has five schools serving 1,200 students.

Syria Fact Sheet pg. 1.png






This is Philomena


She lives with her children on the outskirts of Beni, DRC. Philomena became a single parent when her husband was killed in a rebel attack three years ago.


She and her husband led a simple life as farmers, along with their grown children, subsisting on the food they produced on their land. When war again started returning to the area, Philomena discussed the available options with her children – stay in the village or flee to the city. How could they leave when their entire livelihood depended on their crops?


One evening, they saw rebels approaching from a distance with torches in hand. Philomena hid in the bushes while her son and daughter-in-law went back to look for their children who were sleeping in their nearby home. 


While she waited in the tall grass and trees, Philomena heard rebels approaching her children on the road.


“I heard everything.”


Her son and his wife begged for their lives. She heard the blows of the machete landing repeatedly. Then silence.


She couldn’t move a muscle. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of her. It sounded like the soldiers had left, and though the weight of what happened pinned her to the ground, she knew she had to get up and look for her grandchildren. Were they still alive? Were they OK? Did they hear the commotion and run for safety?


When she reached the house, the two young children were still sleeping. She woke them up, and ran with them back to the jungle to once again hide, too afraid to do anything else.


The next morning, government soldiers arrived and took Philomena and her grandbabies to the city. She knew from that point on she would be their caretaker. They were the only family she had left.



In Eastern Congo, schools not only provide basic reading and writing, “but in the short-term it provides them with the stability and structure required to cope with the trauma they have experienced.” (Jo Bourne, UNICEF Chief of Education)


In areas where war has decimated entire villages, we can no longer wait. We MUST continue to build schools and see education opportunities made available in communities affected by war.


Join us today. Give, share, or forward the message to bring Education Now to war-torn villages in Eastern Congo. Build Schools. Change lives.



Open the Windows to Opportunities


Open the Windows to Opportunities

It's the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen." - John Wooden

Today we're calling those who long to make a big impact by taking little steps. It costs $30 to buy a window for one of our schools and we need roughly 20 windows for each school. Will you partner with us to build our next school in a war torn community and reach hundreds of lives with education?


6 Things We've Learned From Building Schools in War Zones


6 Things We've Learned From Building Schools in War Zones

Building schools in war zones has been hugely rewarding experiences for us as an organization. From the first day when your students walk through the door, you’re overwhelmed and full with dreams for each one of your kids. They have all experienced much trauma from war, including long days and nights hiding in the jungle and fleeing from rebels. For kids who are given the opportunity to go to school, it isn’t just about reading and writing – it is an opportunity to change their futures and their communities.


Our team recently purchased land for our SIXTH school! In honor of purchasing new land (picture above) and as we prepare to break ground on our flagship school, we wanted to celebrate by taking a look back on SIX things we have learned about building schools in war zones.


1. It’s Going to Take Longer Than You Think


No matter how well you plan, 9 times out of 10, there will be delays when building schools in Africa. We call it “Africa time”. No one is in a rush. In the early days of building our primary school in the village, we would encounter major interruptions every week or two. We’d sometimes build for a week and then it would rain relentlessly. Naturally, we would often have to put a pause on construction. Then we would build for a week and the chief workers would get sick, and we would again have to pause construction. The following week, war would break out, and again, we would have to pause construction. At first it seemed stressful and overwhelming and making our deadlines seemed doubtful, but eventually, you learn that stressing out will never speed up the process – it will only steal your joy. Thankfully, we finished the school and we were still able to open on time! Though things don’t always go according to our timetable, we trust that things will eventually get done.


2. Gender Equality is Something You Have to Fight For


In places with extreme poverty, families often send their boys to school, but keep the girls home to work. Many families have the mindset that they can only afford to send boys to school while the girls remain at home. In order to emphasize the value of girls’ education, our team often facilitates community meetings with families to stress its importance in transforming communities and in shifting the status quo. Just recently, we found out that our schools have been recognized by the Regional School Board for establishing greater parity between genders in our schools and creating opportunities for our young girls! We’re so proud of our teachers and staff who fight every day to make a difference.


3. Hire Local Teachers


When war enters a village, local villagers are forced to flee deep into the jungle for safety from potential dangers, including abductions and rape. When the dust settles, transplants often move out of the affected area(s) in search of safer communities. However, those who return home are often locals. Understanding this reality, Justice Rising seeks to hire local teachers to mitigate the otherwise high levels of absenteeism among teachers and students. We find that local hires are committed to investing in the next generation through education. As one teacher put it, “We are committed to building our community and refuse to abandon the school and students even during the hard times.”



4. Partner with Community Leaders


With every school we build, we must work together with government agencies, chiefs and community elders. This guarantees our school’s safety and ensures greater success with regards to student enrollment. Even during difficult periods of conflict, and in particular, when our schools are forced to close down temporarily, the village elders have designated our schools as “safe zones,” meaning that those who have been wounded or lost find refuge in our schools and/or reunite with their family members. The village elders intimated to us that our schools “represented peace” and they expressed their gratitude for the hope it provided.


5. Students May Not Always Come to School in Uniform


There was a time when we rarely saw students coming to school in their school uniforms. Slightly disheartened (as we know uniforms have a high value in the Congo), we asked the teachers why the students came to school in their “play clothes”. The teachers explained that there had been active war in the village for the past several weeks and how many homes were pillaged and looted. The clothes on their back were all they had left.


Our schools are different than most schools built in peaceful villages, and we are always so amazed by the courage and resilience our students display each day as they consistently show up to class, even in the midst of so much uncertainty.


6. Change Takes Time


We must never try to rush change. There is beauty in process. We recognize this beauty in the way our students, teachers and staff, and schools continue to grow and evolve. While we can monitor and evaluate our progress through numbers and figures, it’s in the stories of hope and resilience we find the greatest value and reward. Our biggest takeaway: Don’t despise small beginnings – change takes time!


Thank you again to everyone who helped us get to SIX schools! We could not be more excited for all that the future holds. 

If you'd like to be among the first to make a donation to school number SEVEN (coming early 2017) click below to invest and make an impact that lasts.



The Storytelling Movement


The Storytelling Movement

The Storytelling Movement: A Trauma Recovery Intervention for War Affected Communities


One of the biggest challenges in developing trauma recovery interventions, both within post-conflict communities and those that continue to experience gross violations of human rights, is often they are resource poor settings. They have few, if any, mental health professionals, yet the number of individuals in need of psychological intervention comprises the majority of the community. In addition, it is rare for clinical psychologists to either be funded or able to remain within these communities voluntarily for a significant period of time that would allow them to provide evidence-based psychological treatments. Therefore, the disparity between those in need of psychological intervention and those with the skill set to intervene is substantial. The storytelling movement was pioneered to respond to this disparity by teaching communities to tell their stories. Pioneered and implemented in the Democratic Republic of Congo, the storytelling movement was seen to break the silence that can maintain and increases psychological distress.


What is the Storytelling Movement?

In its purest form, the storytelling movement is not necessarily a novel approach to treating the psychological wounds caused by traumatic events.  Theories of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) have well established that talking about the traumatic event(s) in detail results in significant reductions of PTSD symptoms. Successful interventions already utilise narration of the traumatic event(s) to good effect, for example Trauma Focused Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (Ehlers & Clark, 2000) and Narrative Exposure Therapy (Hensel-Dittmann, et al., 2011). Therefore, the storytelling movement does not claim to be a unique intervention, but rather represents how already existing treatment approaches are incorporated and adapted to respond to the challenge of providing psychological care to traumatised communities when limited resources and expert knowledge are available.

Why is it that so often communities remain silent? and what would happen if individuals or whole communities started telling their stories of war, torture and violence? This is what the storytelling movement represents. It aims to break the silence so often observed within grossly traumatised communities and support survivors to tell their story to bring freedom from traumatic experiences.


Why Storytelling?

The storytelling movement looked at research into the nature of trauma memories and evidence-based psychological treatments for PTSD to conceptualise how to tell stories in a way that starts the process of healing and coping with trauma, as well as building resilience to future traumatic events.

It is suggested that pathological responses to traumatic events occur when trauma memories have not been stored in the same way ordinary memories have (Brewin & Holmes, 2003). Unlike ordinary memories, trauma memories lack verbal coding in the brain and instead exist as a series of sensory representations (Brewin, 2001).

This is problematic because when the memory of a traumatic event is triggered, the individual experiences fragments of the event through vivid and intense sensory stimuli experienced at the time of the event. There is also a distortion in the sense of time, such that these sensory stimuli are experienced as happening in the present, rather than belonging to the past. Survivors often describe this re-experiencing as time travelling back to the event and reliving the horror of what happened without realising it is a memory. In the absence of verbal coding, communicating to others what happened can be difficult (Brewin, 2001).  

Therefore, an integral component of treating PTSD is supporting individuals to construct a coherent, detailed narrative of the traumatic event, in particular verbalising sensory representations. Research has well established that this process transforms pathological trauma memories into ordinary memory structures, directly reducing the frequency and severity of reliving symptoms (Bisson, et al., 2007). It also exposes individuals to the emotional impact of the traumatic event, cultivating a process of emotional habituation (Brewin, Dalgleish & Joseph, 1996)


The Process of Storytelling

The storytelling movement aims to teach communities to tell stories about their traumatic experiences in a coherent manner (i.e. with a clear beginning, middle and end) with rich descriptions about what they could see, hear, smell, touch, taste, what their body felt like, and what they were thinking and feeling at the time.  

This process happens at different levels within communities. The storytelling movement prioritises empowering communities to take responsibility for their own storytelling movement. This is achieved by providing workshops in the community on common psychological reactions to traumatic events and highlighting how storytelling can start a healing process. Space is then provided for the community to practice telling stories and the workshop ends with a collaborative discussion about how storytelling could organically be used in different settings within the community, for example: within families, places of worship and village meetings. 

At the next level the storytelling movement aims to provide further training to ‘barefoot psychologists’; either members of the local community and/or international staff/volunteers who are interested in using the storytelling movement in more structured settings.


Case Illustration

Democratic Republic of Congo

Since 1996, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) has been the center of a complex array of intricate conflicts involving local, national, and international factions. These conflicts have claimed more than five million lives (IRC, 2008). Whole communities were targeted for massacre, mutilation, sexual violence, torture, child soldiering, house-to-house raids and the burning down of entire villages, leaving thousands displaced. Although the conflict has officially ended, much of the country remains desperately poor and the rebel-led violence continues to be widespread.


Justice Rising in the DRC

Justice Rising is a non-profit organisation partnering and living within conflict-affected communities. The vision is to build mutual relationships with nationals, empowering these individual’s with the resources and skills they need to carry self-sustaining projects. I was asked to partner with Justice Rising in late 2013 to think about what projects could be developed to respond to whole communities affected by years of relentless violence in the DRC. 

The idea of a storytelling movement was developed to respond to the challenge that my time living in the communities was limited (5 weeks), the majority of individuals lacked basic education, and there would be limited opportunities to provide frequent and on-going supervision and support for any projects implemented.


A Storytelling Movement

I worked with a community in North Kivu, DRC that has experienced relentless violations of human rights and repeatedly experience village raids and massacres. Poverty is rife and access to healthcare is limited. The storytelling movement was introduced via workshops in the following format:

1)  Education on what traumatic events are and common psychological reactions to these events,

2) Education on why storytelling can start a process of healing from, and coping with, the psychological impact of traumatic events,

3)  Training on how to tell stories in a helpful way and,

4)  Space to practice storytelling.

The culture in the DRC is such that the village elders, chiefs and pastors must be addressed first. Therefore, the first workshop comprised these individuals, in the hope that they would champion the storytelling movement.  At the end of this workshop, the feedback seemed generally positive, however, when I returned to the village a week later, this had changed.  I was told that in the DRC talking about what happened during the war is completely counter-cultural and believed to perpetuate violence by evoking feelings of anger and revenge and prolong [psychological] suffering. Therefore, the overall feedback was that they were not interested in starting a storytelling movement.

In the same village, Justice Rising has pioneered a Leadership League: a soccer team comprised of 40 boys and young men, who choose to play soccer and receive discipleship, rather than join rebel armies. I delivered the same workshop to them. The Leadership League offered further explanations about why the community do not talk about traumatic events explaining that everyone has experienced and witnessed the same events, thus it was unnecessary to talk about it. They also explained that even if they wanted to talk, there was no one in their community “free from pain” whom they could “burden” with their own suffering, and it didn’t make sense to talk about events they are trying to forget.

Despite these beliefs, one member of the Leadership League decided to share his story. He communicated to the group his urge to talk about what he had experienced, yet he never knew who would listen. He described the day his family ran for their lives during a village raid and how he witnessed a bullet go through his sister’s back and out through her chest, before she fell to the ground and died. He was too scared to stop and retrieve her body in fear of being killed. He said he had never shared this story in fear of upsetting others or his peers laughing (a common coping response in the Congolese culture). At the end of his story, one of his peers spoke out and said, “I am sorry that happened to you”. Three others shared a story that day.

The feedback from the Leadership League was more encouraging, for example: “When I talk, I feel sad, but I also feel stronger”, “When we hear other people’s stories, it gives us the opportunity to say sorry to them for what happened”, and “If we share our stories we can be free of pain and from the past”. 

The workshop with the Leadership League encouraged me to run a longer workshop with the village elders, chiefs and pastors, but this time I invited older members of the Leadership League. Reflecting on feedback from the previous workshops, more time was dedicated to explaining how storytelling can start a process of recovery from traumatic events. In addition, a space was given to the Leadership League attendees to share their experiences of storytelling, giving others the opportunity to make comments and ask them questions. This was a significant process that developed into a debate between the group about what is helpful and unhelpful about storytelling. As an observer it was clear that a member(s) of the community advocating for a storytelling movement because of their own positive experience had more influence than an outside ‘expert’.   As the debate came to an end, the group split into twos and shared stories. Looking around the room, I was struck by the observable eagerness to be heard and understood and also the ability of the other to convey empathy as they listened.

To summarise the effect that this workshop had on this particular group of people, I am reminded of two comments: one from a pastor who said: “The first stone has been laid. We must build upon it. This is a medicine that costs no money. We must start talking”, and the second from a village elder “There is a group of people here who want to talk. What shall we do?

As a group we discussed how the storytelling movement could continue. We recognised that their family and friends had yet to learn about storytelling, so it would be helpful to share what they had learnt and then practice sharing with each other. It was encouraging to hear their dreams for groups to emerge where people could regularly get together to talk and support one another. 

This was nearly six months ago and the storytelling movement is growing. The staff on the ground have been overwhelmed by the feedback. The village elders, chiefs and pastors have been sharing the storytelling movement with their families. Their testimonies demonstrate how the storytelling movement is bringing families closer together: “As I have been talking to my wife, I am discovering things she has experienced that I did not know of before” and “My daughter has been telling me the hurts she has experienced because of her husband”. These leaders are taking responsibility for their own storytelling movement and are discussing how to set up listening rooms for the whole community. Some members of the Leadership League meet weekly to share their stories and have asked for further training so they can support the rest of the league.  Justice Rising is observing that in this community the silence is breaking. Families, friends and neighbours are engaging in difficult conversations, providing opportunities for individuals to have their experiences validated and to be supported. The village chief has highlighted the empowering nature of the storytelling movement as he reflected: “We don’t need to wait for outsiders to come, we can start healing ourselves.” 

Taking lead from the community, the next step for the storytelling movement, in this community is to support them to think about what groups they would like to develop, what a listening room might look like an who would be best to facilitate and sustain these projects. Then further training on using storytelling in a more structured setting would be offered.


Concluding Remarks

The storytelling movement was pioneered in response to the challenge of providing psychological intervention when whole communities are traumatised and mental health resources are either low or non-existent. Drawing on previous research and successful psychological interventions for PTSD, the storytelling movements is a tool that can start a process of healing from, and coping with, traumatic events, yet requires relatively low involvement from mental health professionals. As demonstrated in the DRC, following the storytelling movement workshops, the movement itself is self-sustainable, if the community choose to use it. This is because telling stories is not a complex process, but rather utilises natural forms of human behaviour and communication that are known to organically contribute to the process of recovering from traumatic events.   

While no formal research has yet to determine if the storytelling movement reduces the severity or occurrence of PTSD, verbal reports indicate that it can help communities break the silence that so often maintains and increases psychological distress, providing substantial relief to individuals. It also seems to enrich social bonds and bolster social support, which is known to buffer against the psychological impact of trauma (Brewin, et al., 2000). Therefore, it has been observed as an effective method to respond to the mental health needs of traumatised communities when more traditional approaches, that rely on one-to-one interventions, between professional and survivor, are unavailable.


Personal Reflections

The more I sit with survivors of repetitive and on-going war-related trauma, my expectations, or rather, understanding of what ‘recovery’ is within this context is vastly changing. It is not that I should cease striving to see whole communities free from PTSD, but the reality of what I can do with the resources I have hits me. Therefore, what I value about the storytelling movement is that it is not just a tool that focuses exclusively on recovery from post-traumatic symptoms, but I think it symbolises to the survivor that ‘your story is important’, which I hope restores their human dignity which is so often robbed within war-related trauma. My hope is that through storytelling, survivors can find meaning in their suffering because their suffering should not be in vein. I have seen survivors who, through storytelling, have recovered their dignity and found meaning in their suffering become more determined than ever to continuing living and surviving. In some ways, if recovery looks like that, rather than significantly reducing symptoms of PTSD, I hope more war-effected communities are given the opportunity to tell their stories.



We are overwhelmed by the momentum of the Storytelling Movement. Dr. Sarah W.H. pioneered the movement in 2014 as a tool for communities affected by war and related events to break the silence that so often increase suffering by supporting survivors to tell their stories (in the featured publication below, you can read more about the Storytelling Movement, including the psychological and cultural mechanisms that contribute to it’s success). 

Since 2014 the Storytelling Movement has organically evolved and our communities have asked to take the movement further. Our local leaders have asked for more training and formal ‘listening rooms’ to provide more mental health support to their families and neighbours. In July, Sarah will be back in the DRC providing more in-depth education and training and working closely with the local communities to support them in developing the Storytelling Movement. 





Bisson, J., Ehlers, A., Matthews, R., Pilling, S., Richards, D. & Turner, S. (2007). Psychological treatments for chronic post-traumatic stress disorder: Systematic review and meta-analysis. British Journal of Psychology, 190, 97-104.

Brewin, C. R. (2001). A cognitive neuroscience account of posttraumatic stress disorder and its treatment. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 39, 373–393.

Brewin, C.R., Dalgleish, T., & Joseph, S. (1996). Dual representation theory of posttraumatic stress disorder. Archives of General Psychiatry, 50, 294-305.

Brewin, C. R. & Holmes, E. A. (2003). Psychological theories of posttraumatic stress disorder. Clinical Psychology Review, 23, 339-376.

Ehlers, A. & Clark, D. M. (2000). A cognitive model of posttraumatic stress disorder. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 38, 319-345.

Ehlers, A., Clark, D. M., Hackmann, A., McManuc, F. & Fennell, M. (2005). Cognitive therapy for post-traumatic stress disorder: development and evaluation. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 43, 413-431. 

Foa, E. B. & Kozak, M. J. (1986). Emotional Processing of fear: Exposure to corrective information. Psychological Bulletin, 99, 20-35.

Hensel-Dittmann, D., Schauer, M., Catani, C., Odenwald, M., Elbert, T. & Neuner, F. (2011). Treatment of traumatized victims of war and torture: A randomized controlled comparison of narrative exposure therapy and stress inoculation training. Psychotherapy and Psychosmatics, 80, 345-352.

International Rescue Committee, Mortality in the Democratic Republic in Congo: an ongoing crisis. International Rescue Committee Web site. Published 2008. Accessed April 4, 2008.