I confess that Gereu Guizan.

Sunday morning in the 6th District of Bangee and the Church of Saint-Gone de Galabaja is packed with people. Religion is everything here in the Central African Republic, a country of nearly 5 million people right in the heart of the continent.

It's the force that unites and the one that divides.

My name is my church. I'm here because today we're starting our new here, church. A lot of people

is here and they enjoy this moment, this great moment, but we are starting a new year.

We see some, the children, old man, women, girls, kids, whole man is happy to be fine in this church.

You have extra people here today.

They've had to have got seats and benches outside. You have people here

from other churches as well today? Yes, we have the people outside outside outside.

I've heard people is very happy when we be there today.

What does your church mean to you?

The church means many things because when we be there, we forgot our problem.

We sing, we dance, and we forgot our difficulties because we meet many problems in our life many times.

So when we come here, we lose it and we leave a special man that is very good for us.

The difficulties that Naim talks about are woven into the fabric of society here.

It has one of the highest newborn death rates in the world. It's at the

bottom of the UN's Human Development Index. Poverty and sexual violence are

everywhere and despite the government losing control of 80% of the country to armed groups like the Muslim

Selica and the Christian anti-Bolaka, this conflict is often ignored beyond Africa. The melodies are different, but the pain is the same.

Whether mosque or church, there are children playing in the street outside who've been driven from their homes.

Women are here praying without their murdered husbands. The ousting of President

Francois Boziz by rebels in 2013 took this already politically troubled nation to new heights of violence

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