When 14-year-old Moise decided to pick up a gun, it had nothing to do with ideology. It was about lunch. “They told us we would eat meat every day,” Moise said as he stared at his hands in a rehabilitation center on the outskirts of Goma in the DRC, the Democratic Republic of Congo. “At home, we ate once a day, sometimes not at all. In the bush, I carried a rifle, but I also carried shame. I became a man before I was even a child.” Moise is not his real name.