GOMA, Congo -- In a sunlit rehabilitation room, Jerome Jean Claude Amani offers a faint smile. For the first time since losing his wife and children to a rebel attack in eastern Congo, the 35-year-old is standing again -- one leg his own, the other made of plastic.

"I feel at peace," said Amani, who lives on the outskirts of the North Kivu provincial capital of Goma. "I don't see this leg as plastic, but as a second chance."

Amani's wife and four children were killed when they came under attack by armed groups in April. Badly wounded and seeking help to start over, he found his way to Shirika la Umoja, an orthopedic center on the front line of eastern Congo's conflict in Goma, which finds itself overwhelmed by surging numbers of casualties.

Congo's mineral-rich east has long been battered by fighting involving more than 100 armed groups including the Rwanda-backed M23 rebels. The rebels made an unprecedented advance in January and seized two key cities including Goma, further deepening one of the world's largest humanitarian crises.

Some 7 million people had been displaced in the conflict that was already one of the world's largest humanitarian crises before it escalated this year. While fighting has largely reduced as a result of peace efforts, there are still pockets of clashes and civilians are still being killed.

Shirika la Umoja has long been producing prosthetics for the wounded in Goma, with support from the International Committee of the Red Cross since 2005. But the escalation in fighting has brought increased demand for artificial limbs for amputees.

"Every week, we receive new patients who lost limbs to stray bullets, landmines, or explosion," said Gisèle Kantu, a physical therapist at the center.

Since early 2025, the center has treated more than 800 amputees and other severely injured patients.

The number of prosthetic limbs provided by the clinic has soared from 422 in all of 2024 to 326 in just the first half of 2025. There's no sign of demand easing anytime soon.

The center currently runs with nearly three dozen professionals. Unlike in most other places, the prosthetics are made by hand, each one individually carved, molded and assembled.

For each patient, there is a story of both horror and survival.

Melisa Amuli, 30, survived a bombardment near a checkpoint in the town of Mubambiro in North Kivu province in January.

"I was lying among the dead. I started saying my final prayer," she recalled, wiping away tears. Hours later, some motorbike riders pulled her from the rubble. Gravely injured, Hamuli was spared amputations but her legs no longer functioned correctly.

Today, with the help of a special orthotic brace supplied by the center, she can stand again. Forced to close her business selling potatoes, she now relies on others for support. But she's looking forward to returning to work as her recovery continues, one physical therapy session at a time.

For the wounded, the consequences of armed conflict endure long beyond the fighting.

Violetta Nyirarukundo, 27, saw her life crumble in April when armed men shot her during an attack. The mother of four was adjusting to her new reality when her husband abandoned her and their children.

"When my husband learned I had lost a leg, he left me," said Nyirarukundo. "He didn't want to live with a woman who was 'incomplete.'"

Violetta tries to remain strong. "I've lost everything, but I'm still alive," she said, adding that she plans to move in with her father to raise her children.

Faustin Amani, 20, sits silently on a wooden bench at the clinic, his gaze fixed on the courtyard. His right leg, amputated above the knee, is neatly bandaged. Yet the pain seems to extend beyond the physical wound.

Last March a speeding military vehicle struck him and his friend when he was selling mobile phone airtime not far from home. It cost him both legs, and killed the friend instantly.

Though grateful to have survived, he speaks of feeling trapped in a body he barely recognizes.

"I wonder if I'll ever have a normal life ... Who will want me? Who will pay for my schooling? My father pushes carts, my mother carries heavy loads at the market. All my friends have two legs," he said.

In the center's hallways, Amani crosses paths with other young amputees -- victims of mines, bullets, and bombs. He wasn't a fighter, just a street vendor who dreamed of buying a motorcycle some day to grow his business.

"If I could, I'd avenge my leg," he said, eyes welling with tears.

As the injured heal, a workshop offers locals the chance to help build the prosthetics with materials made available by the Red Cross. They've gone from crafting just a few to about 10 in a day, pressing ahead to meet the surging need.

"We want to give back mobility to those who've lost it," said Julienne Paypay, a 35-year-old prosthetic technician who herself lost a leg as a child. "I know what it means to walk again."

In the workshop, the smell of plaster mixes with the hum of generators and the whirring of saws.

Workers carefully carve, mold, and assemble the prosthetic limbs one by one.

The challenges are steep. "All materials are imported. With insecurity, the lack of a functioning airport, and new customs regulations, everything is harder," said Sylvain Kambale, the center's administrator. "We only have two qualified technicians for hundreds of patients still waiting."

Red Cross says it will continue to work with the center to bring in more professionals to meet the growing need.

For Amani, his new prosthetic leg symbolizes a fresh start and new hope. "I will fight for my children. I want to reopen my shop," he sadi. "I don't see my prosthetic as a weakness but as a victory."

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On the front line of Congo's conflict, a trauma center tells a story of horror and survival