Benedicte Vene is a freelance communications consultant who has worked in the voluntary sector for over three years. Prior to this she was a television researcher on factual documentaries which included reporting from Rwanda and DR Congo during the 1994 genocide. She returned to the DRC in February 2009 on behalf of Help the Aged and HelpAge International. All photos taken by Benedicte Vene.

Lost in thick bush approximately 30km (18.8 miles) from Goma, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo - Bulengo camp was set up a year ago and is home to 27,603 internally displaced people (IDP). There are only 205 older people here - 55 men and150 women, mainly widows. Most of them are living alone without their family.

Today is the last day of the monthly food distribution and because the camp is so huge, this takes five days to complete. There's a lot of standing around with some people waiting all day in the rain. In the crowd, I spot a couple of older looking women dressed in colourful rags leaning on their wooden sticks. Our guide tells me that older, weaker and disabled people have to rely on neighbours, relatives or even camp volunteers to queue on their behalf and bring back rations.

And there's another problem, our guide explains. The UNHCR used to hand out burned coal and left over amber to older people but that is not happening anymore. Now it's wood for everyone. Wood that needs to be carried to the huts, dried, chopped and lit. It's a lot more difficult for older people, he says, and again, they have to rely on neighbours or volunteers.

The camp manager tells me that at present, there's little or no provision for older and vulnerable groups. He welcomes HelpAge International's presence in Goma and agrees that we need to raise awareness of older people's needs and increase protection for them.

As we walk around the camp, we meet one of the smallest women I have ever seen and she looks at least 80 years old. She stops to ask if we are here to help her and launches into a cheerful tirade in Swahili with my guide. I have no idea what they're saying but it sounds fun...they laugh, they hug, they talk some more.

My guide translates that she's here on her own and has no idea where the rest of her family fled to. They were separated in the chaos that followed bloody attacks on her village. She's waiting for someone to help carry the huge logs for her fire. She jokes that she would carry them herself but the logs are clearly bigger than her.

She's also concerned about the new reduced rations - many NGOs have to cut distributions as a result of 'la crise economique. She doesn't think she can make her rations last until next month. She comes from the region of Masisi where the worst of the fighting is still raging on but she still wants to go home to die in her village. For the first time in Congo, my eyes fill with tears knowing she probably won't ever go home.

The next person we meet is Sister Mathilde, a no-nonsense Carmelite. A fully qualified nurse from the relatively peaceful province of Kinshasa, she chooses to volunteer her time here under the umbrella of JRS, a Jesuit NGO. Alone, she's recruited seven displaced youths to give her a hand with her huge task in the camp. She has split them in projects, and together they run workshops to educate illiterate adults, teach useful skills such as sawing and baking. They visit the sick, lonely and vulnerable and report to the camp authorities if someone needs help. They do all sorts of helpful jobs and are the ones who bring rations or wood fire to the sick who can't make it to the distribution clearing.

Today, Sister Mathilde is doing a round of visits to sick people in Area 1 of the camp and she kindly agrees to take me with her. It takes her two weeks to visit the entire camp and then she starts all over again. There are so many sick and vulnerable people here that she has had to put in place a strict selection criteria. To benefit from her visits, you need to be over 60 and alone, sick, disabled, or mentally ill and/or all of the above. There are 81 older people on her list at the moment. When we set off, Vincent, one of her young recruit comes with us and will help distribute a few stale bread rolls he carries in a discreet plastic bag.

First stop, is the hut of Assumani who has dementia and is both blind and deaf. His son and daughter-in-law are trying to keep him still but he's shouting and waving his arms and legs. Vincent gets out a roll of bread and gently feeds it to the old man who has now calmed down when we leave. In many ways, Assumani is lucky, says Sister Mathilde, he has relatives to take care of him. While feeling the violence, his son carried him on his back for miles until a truck driver agreed to drive them the rest of the way to Bulengo

Next, we meet Josephine, 66, who's lost her entire family. Sister Mathilde tells me she is suffering from trauma. Then, all of a sudden we get caught in a tropical rain shower and have to shelter at the home of Martha.

Martha, 65, had just come back from a 70km (43.75 mile) trip to Karumba - Mitumbala near Masisi to check on her own mother and bring a share of the miserable food ration she's just received. It took her two days to get back to Bulengo camp. A dangerous trip, she says, especially outbound where she risked being attacked for the small parcel of food she had with her. She's made the trip every month for a year.

It's crowded in her tiny hut, where another family is also seeking refuge from the torrential downpour. The UNHCR tent is worn and leaking (costs $15 to replace) so we all huddle in one corner. The shower takes a while to pass so we have time to chat.

Martha's mother is over 90, (though older people here rarely know their own age), and is not fit enough to make the journey to the camp. She's physically unable to endure the long trip but also insists she wants to end her days in her own village where she lived all her life. Martha tells me that her mother and a small group of older people have gathered together in the centre of the burned down village where a few houses still stand. They wait for the monthly visits from their children, grand-children or any friend who can make the journey from various camps across Kivu. They help each other, she tells me, and there are a few younger people in the area who also come to help them fetch water and wood.

We then meet an old man sick with malaria. He tells Sister Mathilde that he hasn't been to the health clinic in the camp because he can't walk across the slippery rocks. Sister Mathilde says she'll alert the camp manager and send two volunteers to carry him down.

So, if it wasn't for Sister Mathilde's visit, there's a strong chance he could have died here, alone and far from everything that was his life. I contrast this with Martha's mother's choice to die at home.

Before we leave, I spend a little time talking with Sister Mathilde about the situation for older people and other vulnerable groups and what we've just seen. She says each gender and age group here is at risk in their own way - women, children older people and even young men - and the humanitarian community here needs to put in place appropriate protection systems. I explain a bit more about what HelpAge does and plans to do in the Congo, from immediate relief to advocacy and long term collaboration with other NGOs and local health authorities to ensure the needs of older people are met. There's a lot of work to do, she says.

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