Everyday is take your children to work day in the DRC

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Despite the backdrop of war, poverty, diseases and violence- women in the DRC are holding families together. In Butembo, DRC, women play many different roles:  care giver, food preparer, collector of water and fuel.  Often you see women working in the fields as they care for their children.

In Butembo, everyday is "take your children to work day".

North Kivu, DR Congo is burning. Well, that’s what I hear on the radio.

August 24, 2013
  

Signs of conflict mitigation abound in Butembo, D.R. Congo-

I hear daily reports by foreign journalists who generalize about the violence in the North Kivu province- Today (8/24) the UK government is pulling out all non-essential personal from North Kivu (BBC News

24 August 2013). But from my experience, Butembo, North Kivu is a center of conflict mitigation, not conflict. While United Nations forces (UN) and DR Congo military (FARDC) battle M23 and former Uganda troops in other regions of North Kivu, the local UN detachment here in Butembo are assisting Mia-Mia rebels come to the peace table; the University Catholic at Grabin (UCG) reincorporates child soldiers; and rural communities continue to strive for development on their own, because many organizations assume it’s too dangerous.

This week the Université Catholique du Graben (UCG) provided me with a tour which included the Program of the Supervision and Socio-Economic Reinsertion of Ex-Combatants and other Vulnerable (CEFADES) dorms that are part of UCG’s ongoing expansion project.

Three years ago these dorms housed child soldiers during a reincorporation project. I was told by Fr. Emmanuel, the Academic Secretary of UCG, that one hundred children were taught agricultural, sewing, carpentry, and masonry skills to provide them with steady employment within the community.  The university plans to expand the dorms to house rural farmers during training workshops.

Recently several priests in town have invited me to accompany them as they visit rural parishes. My first trip was to Holy Cross Church in Mulu, Lubero territory, North Kivu. It was difficult to see the effect of poverty during the day, because the joy in the faces of each member of the community was nearly overwhelming. They had something that money couldn’t buy, something that I haven’t ever experienced.  

According to the priests I travel with, the countryside is safe enough for us to travel comfortably at night; of course I was only told this once we knew we weren’t going to make it back to Butembo before the sun had set. After the sun disappeared behind North Kivu’s giant rolling hills, the houses and people that once lined the street melted into the forest. The level of poverty is difficult to describe but it was clearly apparent during the night; only the headlights of our car pierced the darkness as we drove down the derelict dirt road.

As soon as I returned, I wrote this in my journal:

“I just got home and I keep asking myself if I saw a miracle today.... I spent the day in the deep country of the Congo on the verge of tears because I kept meeting countless families who were poor but rich in spirit, family and happiness. I realize they struggle to put food on the table but they also know what it means to live. I'm blessed to have felt that today, so blessed. Today was one of the best days of my life. Maybe not a miracle but I saw something new in the world and I’m so happy it's there.”

My second trip to the countryside started in a similar fashion. I traveled with a priest to Bunyuka Parish to visit the Sisters of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Bunyuka is a 30 minute drive outside of Butembo. Even though I tried to prepare myself to be moved, I still found myself humbled and overwhelmed when the young orphans of the mission church and the primary school students sang a welcome song for me.  The song basically said- “You might come by foot, you might come by car, you might come by plane, it doesn’t matter, you’re now here and you’re welcome!”  You would have to have a heart of stone not to be moved. After they were finished I made sure to thank each one of them and I took a group photo that I will have one of my colleagues bring back to share with them.  

The visit to Bunyuka provided me with a more realistic portrait of North Kivu. During this trip I saw the reality behind the smiles of North Kivu- the people here live life full of joy but they do so while intimately experiencing the struggle to survive and all too often the heartbreak of death.   Preventable diseases, malnutrition, disabilities, violence… All are painful. This realization made the smiles of the orphans all the more moving.

Not all the children were smiling during the second trip. Four children were temporarily bedridden with malaria.

I quickly realized the nuns of the mission had an agenda for my visit- they were trying to secure a source of funding. According to The Invisible State  (Jeffrey Herbst, 2013), the DRC is the second largest recipient of aid after Afghanistan. The trickle of aid that makes it all the way here will probably be turned off as aid organizations continue to pull out.

I’m always upfront that I don’t have access to money and only do research but the nuns didn’t care or didn’t believe me. I reiterated countless times that I couldn’t help, but they remained insistent, and informed me that I was going to be presented with a project proposal this week. Their project would address the lack of protein in the community and especially at the orphanage. They are currently unable to properly feed the 20 children they are caring for (2 weeks to 5 years old in age) and would like to take in even more children. At five years old the children are typically adopted by the community.

The nuns have, pigs, rabbits, ducks, chickens, guinea pigs and goats to feed a large number of nuns, three parish priests, the 20 orphans, and parishioners in need.  Any project ideas I had, the nuns seemed to have already implemented. It’s not always clear what aid organizations are doing in the DRC but there are a large number of nuns here and each one of them carries a zeal that profoundly shapes the communities in which they serve.   I am very interested to see what they propose, but to make sure I don’t raise expectations- I will continue to reiterate that the only help I can provide is a helping set of hands.

Panic, it's not war, it's Mother Nature

August 20, 2013

After two days of being served spoiled meat for lunch and dinner, I decided it was time to treat myself to one of Butembo’s finest restaurants. For $4 I receive a ¼ serving of chicken and a plate of French fries.

As I was finishing dinner a hush came over the restaurant. I didn’t think anything of it but instead of waiting for the check, I promptly stood up and went to pay my bill at the desk. Half the restaurant followed suit. As I was paying for the meal a strong gust of wind swept through the restaurant. The gust of wind brought a faintly veiled séance of panic to each of the guests- rain was intermittent.

It didn't feel like just a typical shower was approaching, it felt like a full on assault by Mother Nature was imminent. Exasperating the panic was the collective realization that everyone in town was going to be searching for a motorcycle taxi and the sun was going to set soon- no one want to be out on the cold, wet, dangerous streets of Butembo at night.

When I stepped outside the restaurant I was shocked to see the sun still shinning. People were clearly in a rush to get home and the countless motorcycle taxis that line the street were gone, but it looked like another beautiful evening in Butembo. I took advantage of the panic by walking across the street to a bank to make a withdrawal with no line to wait in.

Just a few minutes later when I stepped back out onto the street, the sun was replaced with dark ominous clouds and huge raindrops periodically crashing into the dirt road. One of the rain drops hit me square on the noise and for a second I thought it might be hailing.  There was no way I could make it home dry.

I joined the mob of Congolese briskly walking and a few running to their homes. As the clouds began to open up, a young boy running by me yelled, “TAXI!” The only taxi man without a passenger gave the boy a dirty look when he realized the boy wasn't actually interested. I didn't say a word; my eyes did all the talking- I clearly wanted that taxi.

I flew down the street into the heart of the storm on the back of the motorcycle taxi, the rain began pelting my face. As I passed the Congolese now running down the street, I regretted taking the taxi. I had some important papers with me that I didn't want wet but I felt like I was missing one of the few opportunities to be normal here. When I was briskly walking with everyone no one called out to me, no one stared at me; I was just another person trying to make it home. I love Butembo but I never thought I would have the opportunity to be completely normal.

The motorcycle pulled up to the priest’s house and I got off under the protection of the roof. I gave the taxi man double the fare as the rain started to fall in sheets.  I was probably the only one that made home that night with a few dry patches still remaining.

 I almost always have a group of people just staring at me when I go out.

I showed the kids how they could see themselves in the camera. They went CRAZY!

I got to Mass an hour and a half early. The kids went in with me when the doors open and a few minutes later a nun came and yelled at us. We were having a little too much fun. Screaming in church I guess is not tolerated in any country!

"What are you doing here?!?"

August 6, 2013

Today I was the first non-journalist westerner to meet with the UN in Butembo, DRC in 4 years! "What are you doing here?!?" 

Loved it!