Globe Trottin' Mama

Women's Day for political and NGO types in Kinshasa

2010-03-20T01:36:00.000-07:00

On March 18 I attended an "invitation only" women's event here in Kinshasa: my friend Charlotte Djimbo works for the Ministry of Gender, Women and Family and gave invitations to me and my colleague Béatrice (receptionist at MCC office). It was the start of a three-day extravaganza of speeches, performances, schmoozing, promotion of NGO and UN programs for women, workshops, wheeling and dealing, etc. etc.

There were hundreds of women in gorgeous clothes, many of them made from the cloth designed for this year's theme: "Parity between Men and Women for a more developed nation." I was the only white face among the "ordinary" people in the huge meeting hall at the fairgrounds on the outskirts of Kinshasa. (The setting reminded me of the St. Joseph Co. fairgrounds, on a more shaggy and crumbly scale.) The only other white people were diplomats and their body guards (Béatrice and I joked that I was her bodyguard), United Nations organization people, European Union soldiers/police, and journalists who all floated around the edges and left as soon as was seemly.

After hours of speeches, a delightful theatrical presentation explaining what "parity" means, music by a Kimbanguist band and the band of a Ghanaian UN division, Béatrice and I headed out of the building before the press conference could begin.

Outside we discovered that a huge fair had been set up all around the building: hundreds of women's groups, including some Mennonite groups, had set up stands to show what they do and to sell the products they make. There were groups singing and dancing, wearing matching colorful dresses and the stands were decorated with gorgeous cloth. One group showed off their agricultural products by wearing peanuts on their heads and draping other vegetables here and there on their bodies. Fruits, vegetables, soap, perfume, cleaning supplies, clothing, purses of every size-shape-color and material, natural medicines, a pig, cooking implements, on and on. A fantastic market, alive with color and loud talk and laughter. I saw how shikwang, the sour manioc gunk wrapped in banana leaves for long-term storage, is made. We bought a few things, chatted here and there, and then headed for home as the hot sun blazed down on the event, which will last all weekend.

Women of Faith and Women's Day in Bukavu

2010-03-20T01:05:00.000-07:00

March 7, 2010

Daughters, Sisters, Friends,

Some of you may have seen this postcard (below) from Mennonite Women USA already, but, in case you haven’t, I thought you might like to see it as International Women’s Day approaches. I can now update this card to tell you that the protestant women in Bukavu have decided to have an alternative event on March 13, when they will wear black and walk quietly through the streets of Bukavu. This coming Monday, the official Int. Women’s Day, they will join in the usual festivities, or not, as they feel led.

A bit of background: The mayor of Bukavu is a woman, as are two of the three burgomasters (elected leaders of different sections of the city). After the recent murders (see below) of several women, Mme. Basombana Antoinette, the leader of the protestant women’s group (I worked with her on a relief project for women in 2008 and we became good friends), met with the political authorities to tell them that the protestant women did not feel they could rejoice and buy new clothes this year because of the continuing war-related deaths of so many women, but would rather walk quietly in the parade wearing black. She was told in no uncertain terms that no alternative to the usual festivities would be permitted, and that anyone who tried to create a somber atmosphere might even be arrested. She continued to talk with both the women who wanted to show their grief and the political leaders, and they came to the compromise of a separate event on March 13. When I last talked to her, Antoinette seemed relieved. It’s not exactly what she wanted, but she also doesn’t want to create more conflicts with political leaders than there are already.

An interesting twist to the story: when I was running/walking in the Run for Congo Women event on Sunday I met a woman I had grown to know quite well when I lived at the guest house here in Kinshasa in 2006. She is now one of those Bukavu burgomasters who was so scandalized by Antoinette’s suggestion for a change of approach to Women’s Day! She invited me over to her house and we had a great visit and meal together. I brought this issue up with her in a rather casual (I thought) way, but she answered with a very sharp remark or two and a little sermon to me about how such ideas cause conflict and some women are just trying to get attention, and on and on. So I just tried a few remarks about different ways of expressing sorrow, of how sometimes our consciences just call us to express our strong feelings in a particular way . . . She changed the subject about then and of course her phone rang about every five minutes so it was difficult to have even a basic ordinary conversation. Later I asked Antoinette if I had done a dumb thing by bringing it up. She said, “No! That’s good. We all need to hear different ideas.” She also said, after the decision to have an alternative date was made, “I was really afraid that something bad would happen to me, so this is a relief.”

Tomorrow there will be a special service at the church I usually attend, the Kintambo Missionary Parish (Mennonite Brethren), in honor of women’s day. I will make a little report about this story. I am trying to get in touch with Antoinette or someone else out there who can tell me how the women taken to the hospital are getting along, but don’t yet have any news.

I have a special new candle for women here and there and everywhere, and will speak each of your names when it is lit tomorrow morning.

Much love, Suzanne

A Postcard and a Prayer
A Prayer Request from the Congo

Mennonite Women USA

Special Edition, March 2010

Pray for Peace in the Congo

on International Women's Day

March 8, 2010

From Suzanne Lind (pictured right), MCC representative to Congo. On February 11, eight women were attacked, tortured, and raped by soldiers near the town of Mwenga in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Five of the eight women were murdered and three escaped. The three escaped women and their families were taken by women from the National Council of Churches to Panzi Hospital in Bukavu, the capital of South Kivu Province. This hospital specializes in treatment of rape victims. A group of Protestant women in Bukavu has decided to wear black on March 8, International Women's Day, as a prayer of mourning and a call to peace, in response to this grievous act of violence.

Suzanne Lind, currently on an administrative visit to Bukavu, stated that March 8 is usually a day of celebration for women in DRC. They wear bright and festive clothing to celebrate International Women's Day. Thus, the decision to wear black is discerned differently by various groups, and some believe that wearing black will undermine the message of solidarity among women in DRC.

As sisters in Christ, Mennonite women in the U.S. are being asked to pray that the women of Bukavu will be strengthened to be faithful in discerning how to speak against crimes of violence as they participate through their choice of clothing and activities on International Women's Day this year.

**********

As we pray for peace in Congo, I encourage each of us to prayerfully discern how to dress on March 8. Whether we wear black or bright colors, let our clothing, our thoughts, and our meditations be a prayer for our sisters who must walk carefully every day along paths of violence. - Rhoda Keener

March 11. 2010

A Postcard and a Prayer

Mennonite Women US

March 2010

In This Issue

Update from Congo request for prayer

Monica Parada survives Chile earthquake

In timbrel

Register for Women in Conversation 2010

Audit on women in leadership

Teaching children peace

Honoring and Remembering

Give to Mennonite Women USA

A Prayer for the Journey

Responses to request for prayer for women in the Congo

"Thank you for this information of women in Congo. I will pray for them for safety and God's protection and blessings over them."

· "Thank you for forwarding this postcard and prayer. I'll join in prayer for these sisters in Christ in the Congo."

· "Thank you for keeping us informed."

A number of women reported wearing black on International Women's Day.

Update from Congo request for prayer

Update on Congo request for prayer from Suzanne Lind, MCC representative to Congo (pictured left with Marie-Jose, a sub-mayor of Bakavu): The three women who survived the February attack are recovering slowly.

International Women's Day was celebrated as individual women discerned; some wore beautiful bright clothing and others, black, a sign of mourning for all the women who continue to suffer because of conflict and exploitation.

The protestant women in Bukavu, located in eastern Congo on the border of Rwanda, have decided to have an event on March 13, when they will wear black and walk quietly through the streets of Bukavu.They will end at the main cathedral for an inter-faith worship service (Protestant, Catholic, Muslim, Kimbanguist, Independent churches).

Mennonite Women USA invites you again to wear black on Saturday, March 13, and, if you feel led, to walk through the streets of your towns and cities praying for peace, in solidarity with your sisters in Congo. Suzanne writes: "The march organizers are quite overwhelmed that American women are so aware of and participating with them. Thank you!"

March 20, 2010

The women of faith in Bukavu did in fact have a march on March 13, wearing black and ending with an interfaith worship service. Mama Antoinette reported that, "Yes, we had our march! It was wonderful. We danced and prayed, danced and prayed." Hopefully she will send me some photos and more details.

My sister Judy wrote that "this week for Thursday's Bluffton University (Bluffton, Ohio) chapel service, Laurel Neufeld-Weaver is working with some of the African university women on a chapel theme concerning women and violence. They are doing vignettes of specific situations, interspersed with appropriate scripture passages, and are planning to project some of your Run For Congo Women pictures, with commentary and scripture passages. A Zimbabwean student, Sandra Vimbiso, is very committed to bringing violence against African women to the attention of the university community, and she and others are working on this chapel service as one of a number of events highlighting women's issues at the university during the month of March."

Judy also reports that a singing group in Bluffton decided to highlight this theme at a concert that same week.They wore black, but with green highlights since the event was a Celtic music evening for St. Patrick's Day, and for the English and Irish settlers of Bluffton (or Shannon as it was originally called). The group made a very nice and factually accurate statement about eastern Congo and the plight of women there by way of explaining why the group was wearing black instead of purple, as they would normally do for International Women's Day.

I always assume that everyone knows about the suffering of the women in eastern Congo, but it is far away and unreal to most. The response to this prayer request reminds me that although everyone has lots and lots of prayer issues and concerns, there is a depth of love and anguish for this particular situation that is immediately expressed when an opportunity arises. I am grateful for that, yet sad that I seem to be able to do so little, even though I am closer in distance. In most ways I am still worlds away from what is happening in that beautiful, battered region.

2010-03-19T11:44:00.000-07:00

In late February I was in Bukavu, in South Kivu province on the far eastern border of Congo. Bukavu is a crumbling-and-growing little city at the south end of Lake Kivu and just across the border from Rwanda. It is a suffering city in a gorgeous setting, with an almost temperate climate and abounding in both war and flowers.

I had a very special experience on Sunday, Feb 27, when I was able to participate in the first Run for Congo Women fundraising event held in Congo. You can learn about Run for Congo Women at http://www.runforcongowomen.org/ I read about it because I like Nicholas Kristof's articles and editorials in the New York Times very much and he mentioned the young woman who started this project, Lisa Sullivan. When I realized I would be in Bukavu at the time of the run I decided I just had to be part of it and, after a lot of emailing and even getting back on Facebook (!) I got in touch with Lisa and learned the details.

Sunday dawned chilly and rainy, but I sallied forth and got a motorcycle taxi to take me about 3 kilometers out of town to the site where the women were meeting. Yes, I wore a huge helmet that I had to hold on to my head, and I had a shawl around me for warmth, but as we took off the rain started in earnest, and soon we were slipping and sliding along the hilly, rocky, muddy streets and I was drenched to the skin. After what seemed like a long, cold (but exciting!) ride, we found a group of women huddled in the rain and decided this was the Run for Congo Women. My very kind driver took off and left me in the mud. After I got my bearings I joined the bedraggled crowd and listened to Lisa and her interpreter give a pep talk before the run took off. She was surrounded by her "sisters," women -- many of them Pygmy women -- who had been raped and injured by soldiers and who are now in training programs run by Women for Women International.

One group took off seriously running and were soon out of sight. I went back and forth, sometimes jogging with those out front, sometimes dancing along with the RFCW group, sometimes just walking and enjoying the beauty of the lake and the songs the women sang constantly.

We set off in the rain but soon the sun came out and we were soon dry and warm again. Most of the women from the Women for Women group stayed in a group, behind their banner, singing and dancing. Lisa walked ahead with her special friend Generose, whose leg was cut off when soldiers tortured her. Both of them had so much mud on their shoes that they took them off and walked barefoot.

At the end of the run we gathered at a nice spot along the lake for speeches, dancing and a snack. I talked for a while with a group of police women, who at the beginning of the race were deliberately solemn and distant, and by the end of snack time were dancing and chatting with everyone. There were a couple men police officers, but the mayor had ordered that only women officers should accompany the run. Lisa read out all the messages of good will sent from sponsors in the US and in a bunch of other countries. I also hooked up with my friend Thérèse Mayoto, a Mennonite woman from the little Mennonite church in Bukavu. She works for Women for Women International and is one of the skills trainers for women that come through their programs.

As I was walking along, someone called out, "I know you!" and there was my old friend Marie-José and her daughter Pearl! between) Marie-José and I both lived at the guest house in Kinshasa for a time in 2006 and got to be good friends. Her son goes to TASOK and knows Rose from the years she was here, and her daughter Pearl was just a tiny girl the last time I saw her. Now M-J is a sub-mayor of Bukavu and responsible for a large area of the city!

After the run was over, she invited me to come home with her and Pearl. On the way we took a tour of the area she is responsible for, all over the steep sides of one of the huge hills over-looking the lake. She showed me the big ribbon she has to wear for official events and to marry people (she does a lot of that). Also showed me the prison and said she tries to keep from having to put people there because it is so unpleasant and makes her too sad. We had a great visit, remembering some of the funny things that happened when we were together. Then her boyfriend showed up and we went out to a fancy restaurant on the lake for supper. Her friend runs one of the boat companies that take people back and forth across the lake between Goma and Bukavu (a trip I thoroughly enjoy), so I didn't feel badly letting them buy me a delicious meal of fish fresh from the lake. My clothes and shoes were really dirty from the run so M-j and Pearl cleaned me up, put fancy shoes and a clean shirt on me, and off we went, me wobbling on really dumb, but theoretically pretty, dressy shoes. One of her five dogs also tried to bite me and ripped a hole in my slacks, but that we had to just ignore.

You can read Lisa's account of this day on her blog: http://athousandsisters.com/blog/ Scroll down to "Barefeet and pink pearls: Our Run in Congo! Part 1"

Side note: if you scroll down further in that blog you will see an entry by Jilma Meneses, who started and runs Our Family Adoptions, the agency David and Kendra worked with to adopt Amari and Desmond. She writes about how she adopted a child herself here in Congo and then developed the adoption service to help others do the same: "Asked about adopting Congolese children? A guest blog- Jilma Meneses, Our Family Adoptions"

Editorial comment

2010-03-19T09:52:00.000-07:00

In the following blog entry about the trip to Uvira, I thought I had interspersed the photos throughout, and I thought I would be able to edit before posting, but those things did not happen, so you can figure out who is who in the photos, and please excuse the errors. Maybe I should view the tutorial video . . .

Quick Trip to Uvira

2010-03-19T07:19:00.000-07:00

On Saturday 27 February I took a day from an administrative visit to Bukavu, in South Kivu Province on the far eastern border of DRC to make a very special personal trip to Uvira. Uvira is a town about 100 kilometers south of Bukavu, right on the top edge of Lake Tanganyika. I wanted to go there to meet Dina, fiancée of our friend Jimmy Mulanda Juma, whom we first met in South Africa in 1999, when he was a poor and lonely Congolese refugee in Durban. Now he is well educated, very experienced in peace and reconciliation work, and is getting his PhD in Italy. In June he will marry Dina, who lives in Bujumbura, Burundi, across the lake from Uvira. Since I can't go to the wedding, I wanted to take this opportunity to meet Dina, as well as members of Jimmy's family in Uvira. Above is a picture of Jimmy getting acquainted with our new granddaughter, Amari Kitoko, when he visited our home in Kinshasa in January.

Here are my journal notes from my quick trip to Uvira:

Walked from the guest house to the bus stop -- Alpha Car Express -- at 8:00 for the supposed 8:30 departure. For a while I was the only one there, and I waited while the crowd, mostly men, grew. The ramshackle van arrived and people started hopping in, then out, then in again; lots of arguing. Finally the agent made everyone get out and called the roll, telling each one where to sit. I was squished between two young me, one small and polite, the other large and loud. They spent almost the entire trip passing their fancy cell phones back and forth across me, exchanging music. Very interesting to learn how that is done. There were several pastors in the group; one of them was sitting forward on the seat behind me and sang hymns more and more loudly as the young men played their music more and more loudly. Three Rastafarians sat in the back. There were two other women and several more young men. We were very squished but i kept my back against the seat and my elbows firmly projected outward, and with the window open I was quite comfortable.

The best road to Uvira goes partly through Rwanda, so on the edge of Bukavu we got out for immigration/border formalities. The other people in the van gave their voter registration cards to the driver, who got them all processed, but I had to go to the window, present my passport, fill out a form, get a stamp in my passport. since we went in and out of Rwanda and DRC four times, with two border controls each time, I got to do this eight times and filled a page of my passport. Each time I walked across a bridge between the two countries, pondering the strange history represented by those bridges.

Back in the bus, and up the winding mountain roads of Rwanda. So cool and beautiful, with pine and eucalyptus trees on the steep slopes. Hairpin turns, up and up, cool breeze coming in the window. After about an hour in Rwanda we were back in DRC. Now we were on a plain, going through villages, and it was getting hot. People were getting off and on more frequently. The Rastafarians were met by a colorful, happy crowd at one crossroads, all wearing the characteristic red-yell-green knitted hats, scarves and "One Love" shirts. Telephone music blared, old pastor sang hymns, one lady threw up and had to get off, and we stopped at various spots where women were waiting to sell oranges or yoghurt in bottles or curds in bowls -- they dumped the milky, curdy mixture into plastic bags and stuck them through the windows. People put the bag on the floor at their feet and off we went.

Jimmy's mother and brother-in-law met me at the bus stop and I got a joyful embrace from his mom. Her face is full of kindness. Soon Jimmy's sister arrived -- what fun to meet her! -- and we got into a rented van with several other relatives and drove along the main street, which runs down a narrow strip of land with the lake on one side and a steep mountain side on the other. We turned up the mountain side and drove as far as the van could go, then went on by foot. I wanted to stop and look at everything, but the bus was leaving in an hour an a half so we didn't have much time. We walked on narrow, intricate parths and steps between houses till we got to Jimmy's sister and brother-in-law's house. His father, tall and stately, met us as we came up the path.

We went into a tidy, carefully prepared living room. Soon they brought in a huge meal which I was supposed to eat all alone. I begged for someone to eat with me, so the parents did. Incredibly delicious fish, chicken, rice, beans, potatoes, sauce, plaintains. The sister's children came in: lovely, friendly young women and shy little boys and girls. Everyone was very dressed up. It was a lot of people to sort out and get to know while also needing to eat appreciatively.

As we were eating Dina and Jimmy's oldest brother came in. They were late because of problems at the Burundi-DRC border; they had come across the lake by boat. I had about 20 minutes to get acquainted with Dina, but it wasn't hard to relate. We had a short, happy, fun time together. Dina is young, lovely, polite, obviously intelligent and is being well-educated. She is easy to talk to. I had brought gifts and we had fun passing them out.

Then, sadly, it was time to go. The whole crowd tromped down the hill, climbed into the van, and hustled to the bus stop. Lots of affectionate goodbyes and then they all took off, except Jimmy's brother, who stayed till I left. I also managed to "comfort myself," as they say here: the station manager led me around the back of the building to a house where he informed the people that I was going to use the bathroom, which I did and it wasn't too bad, and we all nodded and smiled as walked back through their outdoor kitchen area.

Then off we went again. this time I got a window seat; very lucky. A very skinny, boney, bossy mama sat beside me, insisted I buy oranges (they come in a nice handmade rafia bag), and made me give her money when she didn't have enough to get one of the wobbly bags of curds. This time it was a very noisy crowd, who talked and argued and laughed all the way home. I couldn't understand much of the Swahili but sometimes there was enough French for me to get the drift, as when they discussed for at least 45 minutes, with heated shouting and gesticulating, whether drinking alcohol is a sin. One guy asked me what I thought and I said, "It depends on the context," which he didn't even bother to translate to the rest of the discussion group. I knew they all thought i was a Catholic sister by the way the treated me, so had the fun of telling them how many children and grandchildren I have when they finally asked me. But they still called me "Ma Soeur." Everyone does. It's easy to say, and I do look like one.

As we barreled along through the intense greenness, the dusty brownness, the clear open blue skyness, I found myself thinking that I couldn't think of anything I'd rather be doing, anywhere I'd rather be at that moment. Then I remembered that the "corridor" between Bukavu and Uvira is an area that has been torn apart by the conflicts over access to mines, over old feuds revived by the influx of arms into the region, by the traipsing back and forth of armed military groups who pillage for food and then hurt the people in reprisals for "giving" food to another group which had previously stolen food, crops, animals and children.

When I finally walked back into DRC on the edge of Bukavu, I didn't get back in the bus, just kept walking toward the guest house till I got tired, then got on a motorcycle taxi for the last section. He waited while I ran into the guest house to get money, then dropped me off at the market. It was almost dark, but he showed me where to go in to get the plug adaptor I so badly needed in order to charge my camera. He said, "It was nice to drive you today." and drove off. I took a deep breath and moved into the dark but still crowded market. Could barely see, but kept asking where the electrical stuff was till someone led me there. The guy used a flashlight to look through his pile of stuff and we finally found the right thing. I "felt" my way out, bought avocado, bananas, jam and water for my supper, and trudged up the hilly rocky street under a beautiful moon to the guest house. There was hot water! Ah! What a great quick trip to Uvira.

There was an old woman . . .

2009-11-07T08:36:00.000-08:00

There was an old woman who lived in a car . . . .
She had so many children she had to travel far . . .

To see them. And she did!

In August Tim and I began a new five-year MCC assignment, sharing the role of representatives for MCC work in Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). This new assignment allows us to take turns living in North America and DRC, one of us working from our Michigan office and the other from our Kinshasa office. This fall I am at the Michigan desk and Tim is at the Kinshasa desk. In December Tim will return to Michigan and in January I will go to sunny Kinshasa while he continues in snowy Michigan.

Family visits have been short and sporadic the past few years, so I decided to make a trek to see my closest relatives this fall.

It all began with a trip to Indianapolis for a beautiful, warm, breezy visit with son Jon in his new house near the river. Gardening, walking, sidewalk caféing and seeing his lovely new home complete with Congo cloth curtains was a heartwarming reconnection and start on the Family Trek.

On another beautiful early fall day I set out for Bluffton, Ohio to see my Hilty sisters Rachel and Judy. I stayed with Rachel and Ivan Friesen in their home on Spring Street, and also visited our old farm home which Judy and Phil Kingsley are gently renovating, improving the condition and size of the house while keeping the settled beauty of the entire farm.

While in Bluffton we all participated in Swiss Day at the Swiss Historical Society house -- a great day! I felt the happy spirits of our sister Ann and our dad Herman enjoying the fruits of their labors with the SHS for many years. And the spirit of Mom, happy to see us together, was as always present. Rachel, Judy, Suzanne, and friend Deanna serving cider, Swiss cheese and break baked in the historical house oven:

Next sortie was to Austin, Texas to see the Myers branch of my clan. A wonderful weekend in the gracious home of my birth sister Katie (Myers) Laine, together with our half-sister Barbara (Myers) Tarpley (whom I had not seen since she was a very young girl) was delightful and hilarious, with moments of significant pondering of the power and wonder of family ties. George, Katie, Susie:

A highlight of the weekend was a dinner with our brother George Myers, half-brother Eric Myers, and Katie’s son Brett, his wife Monica and daughter Abby. Those three men are shaped very much like my sons Jon and David.

On I went a few weeks later to Harrisonburg, Virginia, where daughter Elenore and son-in-law Kurt had just purchased a new house. I got to help clean it before they painted the inside -- and now they are living there! Happy Holsopple Home. Their lives are full of good work, friends, family – and at last they have a house where more people can visit and be entertained by this charming couple.

Next stop, Hatboro, Pennsylvania, on the outskirts of Philadelphia, and the home of daughter Maria, son-in-law Jeff, and granddaughter Kaylah. We got to take rides in the new Carr car. Kaylah is a talkative, imaginative, acrobatic, affectionate little ball of energy who embraces you with a non-stop blend of chatter, song, dance, and intensely interactive play. One favorite activity was sitting on my lap “writing” to Grandpa in Kinshasa, mostly in the form of weird funny faces from the drop-down menu.

Heading home, I made my way to Johnstown, Pennsylvania, where Rose is spending a year in the Mennonite Mission Network-sponsored Service Adventure program. What great fun to interact with Rose, Joey and Julie, the three young adult participants, and with Randall, Kirsten, Anya and Emma Schlabach, the leadership family! I love the big three-story house in inner city Johnstown, and had a great tour of the downtown area with a very knowledgeable Rose as guide. We attended two of the nine Mennonite congregations which support the unit on Sunday, and I visited the Head Start classroom where Rose is an assistant teacher. It’s a busy life and I think it’s a good place for Rose at this stage of her life.

Then it was time for a little road trip with daughter-in-law Kendra Yoder. While our dogs Lily and Daisy stayed with David and Tavi (dog) and the two cats at the Yoder-Lind home in Goshen, Indiana,

Kendra and I headed to Indianapolis to celebrate Jon’s 31st birthday with him. He grilled a fantastic meat and vegetable supper and hosted us overnight with his usual graciously hospitable style.

As we were driving from Goshen to Indianapolis, on Saturday, November 7, Kendra received a phone call from Jilma, the lawyer who started the Our Family Adoptions agency with which David and Kendra have been working over the past few months. Jilma was calling from Kinshasa, DRC to tell Kendra (she had already talked with David) that TWIN BABIES were ready to be placed for adoption with them!!! A little boy and a little girl, born October 31, have, over the past few days, become David and Kendra's family, and our newest grandchildren. Tim has been able to help care for them, holding and feeding them daily and falling totally in love with the tiny, beautiful children. David and Kendra have named the little boy, who weighs 6 pounds, Desmond Likabo and the little girl, who weighs 4 pounds, Amari Kitoko. The happy parents will go to Kinshasa soon to meet and care for their babies until all the paperwork is finished and they can all come home to Goshen.

And here is Grandpa Tim with Amari;

We then went on to Columbia, Missouri where Kendra is doing research for her PhD dissertation and where my uncle Addison Myers and my aunt Darcy live. Addison became my “broncle” (and I his “sniece”) many years ago when his mother (Lenore Myers) and my mother (Eleanor Keeney Myers) were killed in a car crash. Dad Herman became Addison’s guardian, and then my adoptive father (hence combining uncle-brother and sister-niece). We have seen each other infrequently over the years, but the affection and the teasing have continued and visits are a joy tinged with some sadness for the sorrows of the Myers story. Addison and I spent a lovely day together, making soup, chatting, and looking through old family letters. Darcy and Kendra joined us at dinner time for more good conversation. Addison and Darcy gave Kendra the old Myers cradle which has been in the family for over a century.

My red Tracer has also become re-acquainted with the roads of Michiana this fall: encasing the longer trek are the more frequent and wonderfully enriching visits to family closer to the big red house.

Weekly visits with Mark at the correctional facility in Coldwater, Michigan (an hour from home), usually together with his wonderful friend Becky Hodges, are a good time. I am amazed at Mark’s ability to become a self-educated person through this experience. It is a special joy to take Mark’s son (my grandson!!) Fekile to see his dad about once a month.

Fekile and his sister Noelle live in South Bend, Indiana with their mother Kirsten Schipper, and I love to go see them as often as I can. Noelle and Fekile will spend ten days with me over Thanksgiving. Yikes! I must put on my best grandma behavior.
Becky and her daughter Makenna will join us for some of the Thanksgiving break. Sleep-over at Grandma's! Left to right in the photo below: Fekile, Noelle, Makenna, Kaylah.

I also have a weekly meal with Tim’s dad, Millard, at Greencroft in Goshen, which is always fun. Sometime I also visit Tim’s Aunt Ruth, and am finding there are a lot of people at Greencroft that I would like to visit with on a regular basis, so I could probably spend a day a week there. Millard on his 90th birthday:

HOWEVER, I am also working while I am here, and my travels have included visits to and presentations at MCC headquarters in Akron, Pennsylvania and the MCC Great Lakes offices in Goshen. Since my colleagues in Kinshasa are six hours ahead of our time here, I try to be on the computer as soon as possible after 6:00 in the morning to check in with them and communicate before they go home for supper! There are also a lot of leaves to rake and wood to bring in, so days go by very quickly.

There was an old lady who wore the Birkenstock shoe,

She had so many children she didn’t know what to do . . .

So she went round to see them and ate up their bread,

Kissed them all soundly, then away she sped.

Grateful greetings to all.

The Conspirators

2009-07-19T05:41:00.000-07:00

Laughing at the complicated ways I use to communicate with my family, causing the majority to neglect to ever read my epistles, Jon, David and Kendra created a blog for me and presented it to me yesterday via a cheery skype conversation. So here we go with the gtmama blog! Don't they look pleased with themselves in this excellent innovative photo?

I am learning . . . but there are so many different places to click! Ah well, the conspiracy team will help me!

Consider me a blogger.

Visit to Goma and Bukavu Day 8

2009-07-09T09:31:00.000-07:00

Up early, eager to go. Fidèle came much later than planned, but had already been negotiating at the airport for some time; said he thought he had found someone to give up their seat for me (the seat I paid for and reserved a couple weeks ago) if I would pay their hotel bill so they could spend another night. Go figure.

11:15 Sitting in the airport, waiting to see if they will give me a seat. Here are the stories: 1. CAA airlines Kinshasa keeps computer records, but CAA Goma doesn’t. So although I purchased a round trip ticket and was #2 on Kinshasa’s list for departure today, Goma never saw/heard of me and booked the plane full from this side. So I have to buy (back) a seat from someone willing to “give up” their place for me.
2. President Kabila brought 3000 military and hundreds of politicians here for the 30 June celebrations, agricultural fair and government business. Now they are ready to return to Kinshasa, so he has requisitioned all planes this week for his people. Pastor Busombo, from ECC Kinshasa, has been here for a couple weeks and is returning on this same flight. He is chummy with an airport official and he may be able to help out . . . especially if I can “share” my baggage allowance with him so he can take back the beans and meat he bought here. Fidèle says he spent the whole night calling people, including the president of ECC, to find help in pressuring CAA to let me go. He says he negotiated for hours on Monday, yesterday and earlier this morning. I will assume he is exaggerating to a certain extent. Now he has come back from talking again with his CAA contact, and thinks it’s a go. He says it’s best to know someone at CAA and keep calling them after you make your reservation: call first to tell them about your reservation, then call every day to remind them. I’ll see what Bossuet has to say about that.

There are not nearly as many street vendors here as in Kinshasa. And people have to keep plastic sheets over their wares because of the dust. Many people cover their noses; motorcycle taxi drivers wear all manner of face gear to deal with the dust, from ski masks to gas masks to super duper helmets.

Here’s what it’s hard to find at Goma: mouchoirs (Kleenex packets). Amazing. In Kinshasa they are everywhere. Fidèle had to go searching and spent 500 FC for a package -- Rose tissues, my favorite, they smell good so came in very handy, in the dreadful restroom at the airport, for filtering odors rather than dust. Even though I think F sent someone to clean up a stall when I said I needed to “soothe myself.” Payment: 500 FC to the restroom lady, 500 FC to the airport Papa who guided me to the so-called restroom, waited and guided me back to Fidèle. I love being able to provide employment for so many people just by needing to blow my nose and pee.

Now Fidèle has gone to get the three bags of baskets which he is sending to Milenge to sell for the widows. So he must be pretty sure I’m going.

Final deal: Fidèle’s brother needs a driver’s license which Bossuet can get him in Kinshasa. F gave the $50 his brother gave him for the license to the CAA contact who got me a seat, and now I will give $50 to Bossuet for the license when I get back to Kinshasa. Win-win-win . . . I think. I gave Fidèle $20 to thank him for all the shenanigans, which brings the final account to what we discussed (earlier in the car) would be “enough” for the person giving up their seat. Simple, straightforward, uncomplicated; so satisfying.

Fidèle guided me at last through immigration and got me into the departure area. Then we realized we hadn’t paid the airport tax so I stood with the guard who pretended not to believe that I didn’t have razor blades or knives in my bag, while F dashed off to pay the tax. Finally I had been guided through all the hundreds of “hands” that were needed to get me onto the plane. I sat in the midst of incredible noise and bustle, eating my little lunch -- last remnants of my Bukavu stache – and watching alertly for the call to board. I was not going to be sure I’d made it until the plane took off. At the first sign to board, I joined the crush (usually I wait) and shoved with the best of them to get out the door and onto the plane.

And thus home.

Visit to Goma and Bukavu Day 7

2009-07-08T09:24:00.000-07:00

Final touches on the proposal. Quick meeting with Mgr’s Kuye and Bulambu: gave a stack of Seeking Peace books; prayers and message: find more money because it is only going to get worse. Then off to the boat and back to Goma and my same room (Kivu) at Bungwe.

On the boat I sat beside a very young woman with an adorable 1-month-old baby girl; we watched the movie “Baby’s Day Out.” Talk about weird juxtaposition . . . .

Fidèle says I may be bumped from tomorrow’s flight because of all the politicians and military who are returning to Kinshasa from the 30 juin festivities in Goma. May have to wait till Sunday. If so, I’ll wish I had my laptop.

Thérèse Kabambi came to visit. She is a dear woman, but she does go on and on and on with tales of woe, personal and about her organization, talking in that fast, urgent voice well rehearsed so as not to leave any spaces for questions or change in subject and that means the request for money is coming soon. I gave her some money for children’s school fees, and will do as others have done unto me: introduce her need for funds to Pakisa, who has had some project activity in the area where she works.

My first uncomfortable night: mosquitoes, loud music, slight anxiety about getting bumped. There has to be at least one bad night on every trip or one feels irresponsible and lazy -- and guilty for having excessively comfortable accommodations.

Visit to Goma and Bukavu Day 6

2009-07-07T09:00:00.000-07:00

Another lovely morning. Slept till 7:00. Tried out the new coffee packet I found in town. Not too bad. Nice Papa went and got two fresh rolls for me. Bread, coffee, banana: Perfect. Had time to review COPARE file, tidy up. I love establishing my little routines and order in a new place.

While I was waiting for Laurent to come, sitting outside, reading, a woman came in to see me. She didn’t speak any French, and I no Swahili, so we called the housekeeper, a very nice, helpful woman. The woman’s name is also Suzanne, and she had come to thank me for giving her $20 sometime in the past when she had an injured leg and needed money to pay the hospital. I said I thought she had the wrong person, as I have only been here twice before for short times, most recently a whole year ago, and don’t remember ever giving money to her. She was adamant: “Yes, it was quite a while ago, I remember you, we were on the street outside the clinic, you were with another person, I asked you to help me, you gave me $20, we discovered both our names are Suzanne, and I have been asking people ever since if you have come back. Now I am in good health, I have learned to make batik cloth (she was wearing a lovely example), I am fine. I just want to thank you.” And she presented me with four eggs. I thanked her profusely and in great confusion. We chatted a while with the housekeeper; the two Suzannes each have six children, Mama Emilie has seven. Then I said that, because I don’t cook here, perhaps she could take the eggs back to her children. (Cultural faux pas, yes.) No, she said, through a USAID project she had received some chickens and now the children raise them; it was in fact they who sent the eggs to me. I confess I was still mystified and waiting for her to ask for something. When she reached into her purse I thought, “here it is, an unpaid school bill she needs help with.” But she pulled out the certificate she received from a group called “Women to Women” when she learned to dye cloth. She just wanted to show it to me. A bit later I kind of brought the conversation to a close and she left. I still think she had me confused with someone else. Will she come back? What a strange encounter.

Pleasant morning walk with Laurent through down town to the COPARE office. Good meeting, with three administration committee people there. Details of decisions in trip report. ***Request: help them find more partners/clients to compensate for decreased MCC funding. ***Remind Dave Pankratz of impact he made here. ***Would this be a good place for Leya and Tatiana to do a short-term assignment. Would like to hook them up with the dynamic Sifa on the ad.comm.

COPARE people had many stories of how “detractors” undermine their work: people/groups who don’t recognize that COPARE was at the base of their own work or trained them, etc. Long list of woes. When I suggested our new relationship with COPARE could be more like that other donors, responding to project requests or contracting with them for specific tasks, Mme. Sifa said YES, that’s the way it should be. Laurent said they could probably work that way except that they need the certainty that they can pay their rent. Their office is in an excellent location near downtown, and has constant electricity (it went out for about an hour while I was there), which they need because they work night and day. They seem terribly afraid that we will not work with them anymore, that, like the other “detractors,” we will leave them and claim our own fame.

Every time I’m with Laurent I have to listen to long, loving accounts of how wonderful it was when Fidele and Krista were here (ten years ago), how the money and relief aid flowed, how important COPARE was in the whole peace/justice arena then. I tried to present Menno-Paix as building on MCC’s long-term relationships in the Kivus: ECC and COPARE, hoping that these two institutions will provide the strong base for development of MCC’s new presence here. COPARE does not like ECC and began to complain: Why would MCC give so much to support ECC and cut back on our support for COPARE? I reminded them that so far all our funds to ECC have been from FDMR, strictly designated only for relief to IDP’s. ECC gets only the usual 5 to 10% for administrative support from these grants; we provide no other support. And that is just what we are asking COPARE to do: submit grants to a variety of donor agencies, including but not only MCC, and support their office through the administration lines of those projects.

“That’s right!” said Mme. Sifa, who runs a women’s organization. “We are not handicapped people. We can pay our own bills!” Laurent looked annoyed at that comment. COPARE has just landed a $24,000 PNUD project to do conciliation (?) training. Laurent was reluctant to let me see the protocol, but when I saw it I pointed out that they are getting quite a few thousand $ for admin. expenses, a new photocopy machine and computer, lots of office supplies, four months of salary for L, and a variety of other benefits. It amused me that the first half of the grant which we sent to COPARE this year was used to pay the full year’s rent, the full year’s salary of Pierre to his family, all the $ budgeted for office supplies for the whole year, etc., leaving only remaining salaries and $ for the two projects which are not yet done but will now, they say, become part of the PNUD project. Hmmmm. . . .

After a lot of discussion, hand-wringing, and many amazing success stories about COPARE’s work, we agreed on plans for next year. (Report)

As we began to talk more about the political situation, Laurent closed the door and told his interpretation of what is going on: The international community and President Kabila have decided that eastern Congo should be controlled by people (Tutsi) from Rwanda. It will still be Congo but Rwandans will be in control and will teach “good governance.” President Obama has approved this plan, saying only that somehow the fighting and atrocities must stop. So the question is: Why then is the DRC government including Hutu soldiers in their unpaid national army and sending them to chase the FDLR? Is the idea to create such chaos that the Rwandan army will have to intervene and mop things up? The FDLR people have lived relatively peacefully with people in the Mwenga and Shabunda territories which are now being disrupted. The FDLR controlled the mines in the area, and people got used to their little roadblocks and arrogant ways. Perhaps once the FDLR are chased into the forest, Rwandan-backed troops will move in, MONUC will move with them and the east will be dominated by groups which support Rwanda. Kabila will get his cut, the international community can continue to denigrate Congo and praise Rwanda, and the minerals will continue to flow out without Congolese control/benefit: in effect, the balkanization of Congo without changing borders.

About noon Dismas and Flory suddenly arrived, saying there were a lot of new IDP arrivals at the Tchai church (CEPAC) which is near the neighborhood we visited yesterday. So we went off again through the crowded, dusty streets, full of activity, color, extreme poverty, all overlaid with a coat of red dust. The church is built at the top of an incline which once must have had steps but now is an eroded entryway. We turned in and saw hundreds and hundreds of people on all the steps, ledges, in every possible spot. All ages, men and women (especially women; it seemed they had put on their best clothes), crowded, quiet, waiting. We made our way through the crowd to the dark little church office. I couldn’t understand much of anything. We had thought they were all people who were just arriving because there were reports of fighting in Mwenga area. But I didn’t see any baggage and they looked too well dressed and rested to have just arrived. So I asked a few more questions and my growing apprehension was confirmed: most of them were people who heard from people we visited yesterday that a “Mme. Suzanne” had come to bring food and supplies, so they had all come to the church to get whatever it was, and someone had called ECC to come quickly and deliver.

That church is, in fact, the place where many newly arrived IDP’s are registered, and D and F took the lists they had prepared so far to add to the lists we received yesterday. That huge crowd stood outside quietly waiting in the sun, row after row after row of hungry people. D said I should give some kind of “word of comfort” but I refused and said he must talk to them and explain what the ECC is trying to do to help them. So we stood outside and he talked to them.

I think we were all three of us quite overwhelmed by what we had gotten into. The pastor of the church was very nice and understanding. It will probably be through this church that the FDMR aid will be distributed. But it will get to only a few of the people who were there. The money available will provide food, blankets, mosquito nets, soap and medical care for people considered the most vulnerable (babies, pregnant and lactating mothers, elderly, handicapped, child heads of households). Everyone looked very sad as we left, many were patting their stomachs, a few had their hands extended pitifully. Bummer. But, oh my goodness, they could have been terribly angry, could have shown great dissatisfaction as we left in our car, moving slowly through the crowd, leaving them all behind. No one said a word all the way back to the office.

We all worked quietly on the proposal. (Photo 464: Flory reading Seeking Peace, Dismas at computer) After a while I bought everyone cold drinks and went back to my room for a bite to eat, to catch up on notes, and to rest my eyes from all the powerful images. Then back to the office to wait for the proposal to be completed so we can discuss before I leave. They are also getting ready for visits from a World Council of Churches delegation tomorrow and ACT Geneva on Saturday. So MCC is pretty small fry but they are treating me like an important player. I think they like the “responsive informality with personal accountability” style of working with MCC.

Finally we sat down all together and worked with the budget till it fit the requirements; took great pleasure in giving only 7% to ECC Kinshasa. Tomorrow morning they hope to have everything ready on my flash drive.

Laurent came by and we walked to Mama Kindja restaurant; very local, on a steep hillside, a big conglomeration of rooms and cubbyholes and shaded areas. Three of the administration committee joined us. We had fish (as usual, the whole thing with the eye staring sadly up at me) and plantain bananas; ate everything with our hands. They come around with warm water and soap before and after eating. Very nice. It felt funny to be sitting with four men in this busy, quirky restaurant, but it was fun. There were long accolades about Amy Erickson throughout the evening; she often met with them there.

They talked more about the reasons for the violence and confusion in eastern Congo. In general, for them the bottom line is that if the FDLR could be peacefully disarmed things would get back to normal. Everyone could focus on resettlement. That won’t happen unless all the minerals under the soil magically disappear, which is what I sometimes pray for. In the end, I can never make sense of it all, understand enough to sort it all out; and I get the impression that almost everyone else feels the same way but can’t admit it.

Laurent talked a bit about hiring someone to replace Pierre Zihindula (who died a few weeks ago very unexpectedly). I said that was up to them -- if they can afford it with income generated from their activities. He also wants Pastor Mbuyi to get more training in peacebuilding. I suggested Pastor Mbuyi attend Great Lakes Peace Seminar in Burundi. ***Pst Mbuyi to API/WAPI?

They all walked me home through the rocky streets in the dark under a gorgeous moon with chilly wind blowing. Lace hankies sent back to Lauent’s wife and Pierre’s widow. Pastor Mbuyi was at the guest house to visit for a while; still can’t understand why MCC can’t support the church more. Lace hanky sent to Mme. Talked by phone with Anicka in Kahemba, Rose and Chris on Bair Lane. Siggy stopped by for a brief chat. Big, long day.

Visit to Goma and Bukavu Day 5

2009-07-06T08:28:00.000-07:00

Morning worship with North Kivu staff. Lovely songs and prayers. Two good female solos. Both Kuye and Bulambu were there; unusual for either to be there and almost unheard of for both at the same time. Probably because World Council of Churches delegation is coming soon. Mgr. Kuye talked about global warming crisis issues, and that Congo is an “oasis” seen by some as a place to re-settle people whose homes have been totally destroyed by environmental change or over-crowding (like people whose islands in the south Pacific have been flooded forever). Then he moved on to talk about what diaconal work means.

Dismas, Flory and I met with Kuye and Bulambu for a few minutes. Very nice. I explained Menno-Paix ideas and FDMR grant. They were relaxed, pleasant, seemed happy with our ideas. If they were disappointed at least they didn’t show it, in contrast to many others, especially Mennonites (and Gilbert), who begin at once to complain. K and B are eager to get SOS project underway asap. I said I would push it through the system as quickly as possible. So today we will work hard on the details. ***Send Menno-Paix general plan to K and B.

I love the sound of bottles being clinked in basins on drink sellers’ heads. They turn the bottles upside down in rows around the basin, and run the bottle opener over them as they walk. Sounds like wind chimes. I also admire the way girls here wear bunches of onions on their heads like scarves, the onions hanging artistically down around their faces.

We did work very hard and put together what I think is a good project. So far I have refused to eat that pink sandwich meat, but I was so hungry by early afternoon that I wolfed down a big pink meat-cheese sandwich for a “working lunch” with Dismas and Flory. It was very interesting and instructive to work with those two. They follow the standard norms and criteria used by all organizations. They gave me good background on political situation and general context which explains why IDP’s are moving into safer areas: Kimia II campaign is pushing into FDLR areas around Shabunda and Mwenga (especially where there are mines) so FDLR move deeper into the forest, pillaging as they go. People move to larger towns along main roads for greater safety and where there may be transport if they need to quickly flee to Bukavu. Many are coming directly to Bukavu, especially from Shabunda, Mwenga and Kalehe (north of Bukavu). Here they move in with people in the poorest parts of town, some of whom are IDP’s who have been here for some time. Food is getting harder to find and more expensive in Bukavu. Almost all food sold here comes from Rwanda. Previously, food for Bukavu was produced in Mwenga and Walungu areas, but now those areas are too destabilized by FDLR activity to produce much food, certainly not enough for Bukavu as well as local consumption . (This is in contrast to Goma, where they can grow food easily and everywhere.) So once again: more war = more benefit for Rwanda. So once again, Rwanda wins/gains. This is the dry season so little food is available and fields should be prepared for planting in Sept. We had hoped to have a seed/tools component to this project but it doesn’t make sense for the sites chosen because: 1. IDP’s in Mwenga area expect and want to go home asap; they are reluctant to plant in Mwenga area if they won’t be there long enough to harvest. 2. There is no place in Bukavu for IDP’s to grow anything. They have to buy.

Kimia II is not doing much except causing displacement and looting for two main reasons: 1. FARDC (national army) is not paid so also have to “forage” for food. 2. Many soldiers integrated into FARDC are Hutu Congolese who don’t really want to fight their brothers in FDLR.

Later in the afternoon D, F, Jean and I went to the Igoko section of the Panzi quartier of Bukavu, where many IDP’s from Mwenge and Shabunda have been taken in by (or are renting space from) host families. Bukavu is built on hills and ridges and what was once a tidy town clustered on the lake’s edge is now a sprawl of ramshackle, mostly wooden, shacks extending out over the rippling hills further inland. The ground everywhere is rocky and bumpy, with a fine brownish-red soil that doesn’t seem to know how to cope with so many stones, so it just blows (dry season) or runs away (rainy season). They tell me the mud is phenomenal. The air everywhere is full of fine reddish dust, and as we moved further out from the center of town it became thicker, streets became narrower, and the number of people on the streets exploded. It was hard for the car to get through the crowds and when we met anything coming from the other direction it required skillful maneuvering to find a way to pass. Small wood or mud houses are packed in on steep slopes, with step paths straight up among them. We went up and up and around and around into a desperately poor, extremely crowded area, making hairpin turns among the houses and shops teetering on the edge of the road. Rickety little wood slat bridges from the road to the hillsides, over dirty drains. Trees with most of their roots showing clinging to the slope. Women selling bits of this and that in a 2-ft-wide strip along the dusty, dirty, dangerous road, with sheer drops behind them.

Babies. On nearly every back, lap, or bit of cloth. And children. It seemed there were millions, from bare toddlers to bored adolescents, hundreds and hundreds everywhere. Mostly very dirty, barely clothed. And hundreds of young adult men, standing, sitting, strolling aimlessly. We had to wait while a funeral crowd of young people surged around us. They were carrying a flag with Bob Morley on it, and many wore Rastafarian colors and dreds. There was just too much to see, to take in. I took a few pictures but only from the car. Finally I had to make myself stop seeing everything with a camera’s eye and let myself just experience it.

We visited four houses where people had taken in others who fled from areas where there is fighting. We walked through narrow streets, climbed up and down and over humps and bumps and steep steps and dusty, slippery slopes -- accompanied, of course, by a huge crowd of children. I took some pictures but it caused such a commotion that I put the camera away. In each home there were several families staying together. Each place was a tiny, dark, dusty room, with a rickety chair or wooden couch. More than ten people sleep in each of those tiny places every night and must be fed every day. One place had five adults and eight children, another had an old, confused lady for whom someone was “renting” space with a family she didn’t even know. At one place there were two men, a woman with toddler twins (both nursing almost the whole time we were there) and a young widow whose husband was killed in the fighting just a couple weeks ago, plus several children and other people.

We met an exhausted, depressed mother of three, recently arrived, living with three other families; her husband was out looking for work which he knows he probably won’t find. The last place was a more stable family home, a cement block house, with a main room about 15’x 10’. The owner is a man who had opened his home to 6 families = 23 people. Most of them were there and crowded into the room. They explained how they keep their things (very few) in order along one wall and at night some of them sleep in what is a rickety little hair cutting shop, and some turn this room into a dormitory.

Everyone we met had left their homes in a hurry, so have no blankets, few clothes, no cooking pots, no money. It was hard to figure out how they ever find anything to eat. Most of the people we met had great dignity, some seemed confused and very sad, but all were very gracious to us. They are all very hungry. The old lady said her skin hurts. They all suffer from the cold and the dust. As far as D and F know, no other aid agency is helping these IDP’s who have come into Bukavu. ECC is trying to find donor groups who will provide help to this rapidly growing community.

Pictures I wish I could have taken: Shoes for sale displayed on little “shelves” carved out of a steep hillside. Two tiny toddlers playing house with a bunch of bits of trash they had set up as a kitchen.

There were a lot of very young pregnant girls. Clusters of toddlers everywhere. Hundreds of boys and girls running around with little ones in their arms or on their backs.

We wound our way back down the dusty hill, the streets still full of incredible numbers of people, moving along, selling, sitting, talking, getting on huge trucks or stuffed into crowded taxi buses. But after our brief visits in the houses and yards and winding paths off the road, I am reminded again that the people we see on the streets and roads are mostly the strongest and healthiest ones. The less strong, the very young and old, are in those dark, cramped shacks, or sitting endlessly in dusty yards, or lying on mats in dark rooms or under trees.

Got home at last. Went immediately for a long, much-needed walk, exploring a few new streets. Came home just at dark with a full moon rising over the valley. Supper: Jempy sandwich cookies with vache qui rit cheese, banana, water. Mama Mayoto came by to bring medicine for her husband in Kinshasa, and shared some of this bounteous repast with me. Wonder what she thought . . . .

Visit to Goma and Bukavu Day 4

2009-07-05T08:04:00.000-07:00

Lovely cool, sunny morning. Boiled water in little kitchen and had pleasant breakfast in my room: nescafé, banana, Jempy cookies, vache qui rit. Lit candle to honor all candle prayers. Worked on what to say to EMGL. (Great Lakes Mennonite Church.) The sun is now very warm, coming in my door. Many bird sounds. Papas are busy here and there with yard and gates. Pink hibiscus all around, and bougainvillea. So peaceful, beautiful. How is that newly-arrived, shell-shocked Pygmy family doing at Shasha? Were houses burned and women raped while I slept so deeply? So hard to draw it all together for response/prayer/focus. Image of long arms willing to embrace (orangutan) better than image of hands wringing.

Daniel Zihindula, third son of Pierre Z, who died so unexpectedly just a few weeks ago, came to get me for church. We had a nice chat on the way. Climbed up the steep dirt steps behind the “Tout est Okay” store to the pleasant open-sided church place. Only about 4 people there, but the service started anyway at 9:15. People slowly arrived till there were about 35 or 40 by the end. Nice service and communion. No microphones; hallelujah. Simple, no histrionics. Pastor Mbuyi was preaching elsewhere so a pastor from one of the other “outposts” preached. Daniel translated for me from Swahili, but didn’t overdo it; I got the gist.

At the end of the service, I noticed there was a white man there. He was asked to introduce himself and it was Siggy Holzhaueur, formerly MCC rep in Zambia whom I actually know quite well but did not recognize because why would he be there?! He now works for Canadian Food Grains Bank and was there to see a project.

They didn’t ask me to speak during the service, but had time after when anyone who wanted could sit and talk with me. I talked a bit about the Seeking Peace book, gave them a stack, and had them write messages in one to take back to friends at Kintambo Missionary Parish in Kinshasa. Tried to make connections to people they know, other visits, etc. Didn’t talk much about MCC new program, though I gave a broad outline. They were rather upset to learn that a pastor (non-Mennonite!) from North Kivu is going to Paraguay. They still want me to feel as badly as possible for “abandoning them;” i.e. not continuing the dependency model they have enjoyed for over 10 years. ***Send contact info for Jean de Dieu. ***Make sure they are getting MWC Courrier magazine regularly.

After that general session I met with the church council. Reviewed their plans for this year’s grant and gave them the money. They had lots of questions about MCC plans, and repeated complaints that MCC channels funds to poor people through ECC, but that they (the church) never receive any. (I reminded them of the aid to women from their church after the earthquake, but they weren’t aware of it. There was only one woman at the meeting; secretary, of course.) I don’t think I explained MCC principles very well. They want direct assistance for their projects and their building project and everything else they could possibly want or need. Why was it so hard for me to explain why we don’t work with those things? I should have this written out for the hard-core resisters-to-change. They did give me some good ideas for simple things MCC can do to help them, mostly connection-making and finding resources. Dr. Josué pushed and pushed, even after the meeting, and eventually seemed to understand the difference between partnering with a congregation and with an institution or organization. I still feel they are stuck in the victim mold but don’t know how to inspire them without making promises I can’t keep They are excited about having an MCC worker in the region, and like the idea of Seed people who would hopefully attend their church.

Siggy and I walked with M. Clément (veterinarian) and his daughter back into town and found our way to the Orchid restaurant (where Milenge took us to eat with the vice-governor last year). A very fancy place. The only food option was a $30 buffet so we had a long, delicious meal on a veranda, looking out over the lake. Then we explored the beautiful gardens and steps and terraces that go all the way down the hillside to the lakeside. It was beautiful and cool, the lake calm and quiet. Walked home at sunset. Unexpected, very fun afternoon; in Siggy’s estimation, “serendipitous.

Visit to Goma and Bukavu Day 3

2009-07-04T21:23:00.000-07:00

Up at 5:30 to take the boat to Bukavu. Kitchen guys made me a thick sandwich of pink meat (ugh) and cheese (yum) , and 2 bananas, to eat on the way. Bumpy, rocky road along the edge of the lake to the boat launch place. Dirty, damp, crowded. Fidèle took care of formalities and then we had big steaming cups of real coffee from the little drinks nook. Very nice in the chilly lake-side air. Final discussions about plans and then I boarded the +/- 40-person enclosed boat and we left (after some rearrangements to let a politician and a military big shot sit where they wanted). I sat by the window; face right at window level looking out over the lake, ready for slight showers at higher speeds. Next to me was a very friendly guy named Espoir. When he first asked me my name I said “Betty” because for some reason I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk a lot to him. But he found me out when we were getting our tickets back and he looked through the stack to find one with Betty on it to give to me. Busted. In the end we had a nice conversation. He works for International Medical Corps, an American NGO; I think I met a couple of Americans coming to work with that group at chapel in Kinshasa once. The ride was lovely -- beautiful lake, beautiful islands passing the windows, occasional canoes -- except that they showed the movie “Shooter” which was so horrible and violent and ironic in that setting: glorifying US military slaughter for the sake of revenge for a destroyed village in Ethiopia). After that they showed a lovely film about Congo natural and wild life. But watching the people in the boat was more interesting than any film. And standing on the deck outside is a stimulating thrill.

We arrived amidst great fanfare for politicians/military and some revivalist church leader. Dismas was there to meet me; took me to stay at a lovely guest house on what used to be the Swedish church and embassy site. It still felt like a little (how I would imagine) Sweden. Clean and tidy and basic. Flowers!!! A huge bank of bougainvillea around the little courtyard outside my room. No food provided though we can use the kitchen. I went out and found some groceries, had a nice walk on Bukavu main street.

Lunch at 2:00 with Dismas at a restaurant called Délicia, supposedly the favorite of Kinshasa people. He had Kingfisher juice, which is how I learned what it really is. I had chicken makala and plantain bananas. We reviewed plans and projects. On the way home we stopped at the main market for bananas and avocados for my little stache. I hopped into the car and started to chat about how cheap avocados are in Bukavu -- then looked up and found I was in the wrong car and an unknown man was smiling at me. Dismas came on the run to rescue the poor guy from the silly old grandma lady. I have a car and driver (M. Jean) at my disposition while I’m here; very VIP.

Went for a long walk in the late afternoon on the rocky, dusty, hilly streets. Reminds me of Tananarive: steep slopes with little paths and steep stairways between houses, red bricks, crumbly feeling about everything. Walked along the valley side, then along the new Cinq Chantiers street toward the CAP guest house where I’ve stayed before. Crossed over and went back parallel to main street on the other side, with views of the lake. Tons of construction everywhere, piles and piles of rocks, bricks, sand. Uncompleted buildings crowded in between every possible structure. Saw some lovely old houses with lake views. Everything seemed to be “must have been nice once” or “might be nice some day.” Walls and fences. Quite a few places where bougainvillea is hanging over walls, as it should everywhere. Now I’m sitting in the little courtyard as it gets dark, eating sandwich creams (mango flavor) made in Iran.

Damas liked the idea of breaking the project into smaller sub projects and including seeds for host and IDP families to grow food. (That idea had to be scrapped as project took shape.) I asked if we can work with ECC member churches; he said maybe Methodist and CEPAC; CELPA has “mauvais gestion.” (!)

Drumming and singing not too far away. It gets dark at 6:30. I am almost halfway done with my Amy Tan novel, Saving Fish from Drowning. What will I do when I finish it? These evenings with no laptop will probably get quite long! I paced the room, reviewing the day. At 6:30 the lights went out; decided to take a shower (hot water, aah!) and go to bed. Lights came back. I ate an avocado and read some work stuff. Paced. Remembered I’ll probably have to speak at church tomorrow. Why didn’t I bring a Bible?! Where are the Gideons when I need them? Picked up Seeking Peace in Africa and after a lot of reading decided to use parts of Cathy Mputu’s two articles about pillage, plus found a couple paragraphs of a pertinent prayer. Lights went out; so shower and bed. Lights came back. Well, it’s almost 8:00. I guess I can let myself go to bed and read my novel. Very windy, chilly night. Long winter’s nap...

Visit to Goma and Bukavu Day 2

2009-07-03T08:17:00.000-07:00

We are going to Shasha IDP camp and the camera needs to be charged. I don’t have a plug converter.

We went to Shasha IDP camp, about an hour’s drive on the beautiful lakeside road from Goma through Saki, Kiroshe, to Shasha and then on to Minova. There are IDP camps set up all along this road, and many places where IDP’s also stay with host families (i.e. other poor people who squeeze them into their tiny houses and share their meager food). The camps closer to Goma receive regular, though minimal, help from the big aid organizations. Some have tents (from Heal Africa), but most are the tiny leaf-covered huts, about 2 yards wide and 6 feet high in the center. The lucky ones have tarps to put over them. There is no privacy anywhere, and amazing numbers of people crawl into each hut at night to try to sleep. Oxfam has provided water supply to most of the camps. World Vision has a small school project and has provided latrines for Shasha. Otherwise they have received no aid for about 5 months. (We provided some food and tarps in late ’08, but only for a few families.)

When our delegation visited Shasha last year (Tim was in that group, I wasn’t) there were about 3500 people there, on about 4 acres of land provided by the Catholic Church. Now there are 7500, mostly Pygmy people who have left the forests because of the recent military efforts to track and chase/destroy FDLR groups. There is very little room to grow anything, though a few patches of vegetables are struggling along among the huts. But all around the camp are glorious fertile hillsides and fields, full of corn, bananas, manioc, potatoes, carrots. The IDP’s can work for the local people to earn money to buy that lovely food, but if they have no money they can only look at it. They do heavy, menial tasks, carrying heavy loads, bringing water. Little boys carry huge loads of wood on their heads. But there is never enough to eat.

Hunger and illness are evident everywhere. Children are scabby and weak. There are babies everywhere, and young pregnant girls everywhere. The people were very shy. Once the children realized I would touch them, they were friendly and sweet, holding my hands and chirping giggles from time to time. Of course they expected I’d have candy or something, which I didn’t. I was glad the camera was not working; it would have been wrong to take pictures. We met one family which had just arrived; they were putting up their hut. They all looked dazed and disoriented, didn’t seem to really see us. Pygmy people are so small and compact. I felt big and overly healthy; took off my glasses because they (and my skin) made so many babies cry. Even I, with my great capacity to look at suffering and find it picturesque, was left soul-subdued.

As we left the camp and drove past huge, huge piles of bananas (right on the edge of the camp!) waiting to be picked up by trucks and taken to Goma, and piles of potatoes and sweet potatoes, I wished I could just give a banana to everyone in the camp, at least to the children. We began to calculate, and found it would cost $500 to give each person in the camp one banana. Since I have $17,665 in my whole budget for all our material aid and related administration work in eastern Congo, and was toying with the idea of working with ECC North Kivu to use $10,000 of it for some kind of project, I was a bit nonplussed to realize that I could give each person in the camp 20 bananas for that amount.

On the way back into Goma we jounced and bounced over the lava to visit a Methodist church which is hosting IDP’s from Musawatu. There was a big women’s meeting going on and they greeted me like a long-lost sister. I thought maybe this was the widow’s group that we have assisted, but it wasn’t. It was a Methodist pastor who was hoping MCC would give money for these women to buy sewing machines. I asked Fidèle why he had taken me to that church without explaining to me what it was all about (felt like a set-up) and he said he had seen it just as a chance for me to meet some more IDP’s.

Then we visited the “hangar” (workshop) which ECC had helped the Goma war and volcano widows build with one of our FDMR grants last year. I was shocked to see how big it is and to see that it is nothing but a shell: roof and walls over lava rocks. It is not nearly finished although in the project plan and report it had been budgeted and reported as manageable within the amount of the grant. Major disappointment, although I had not wanted to accept this project for these very reasons and was pushed by Milenge and Dr. Louise into doing it. I didn’t say very much, but it was clear that I was shocked and that I have no interest in working with this project anymore. ***Scratch that off the airplane ideas list! I did buy a bunch of the baskets the group made and which they store in Fidèle’s office at ECC. My checked luggage coming back was three big sacks of these baskets which Rev. Milenge will try to sell from the ECC here.

I was worn out and discouraged by the end of the morning. Found a “multi-prise” plug and am back at the hotel, charging the camera. Coffee, bread and cheese (skip the rancid butter). Aaaaah. I am preparing for a tough afternoon -- how to do something with little. Two little Congolese-German girls are playing in the grassy courtyard. School children next door are making happy noises. Different realities. Had a pleasant visit with the young German mother of the two little girls. Her husband is from Goma and they are here for their first visit after his 10 years in Germany.

Afternoon meeting with MERU, Women and Family, Peace and Justice staff. Fidèle, Mittérand, Josephine, Gogo, Gilbert. (Photo 344 – all reading Seeking Peace!) They came ready to make big presentations. I sort of preempted them by explaining first what we are trying to do with Menno-Paix and being totally honest about what I have to offer. I decided to be totally transparent with everyone on this trip so am putting my cards on the table everywhere I go. A bit risky, but moves things along nicely, usually. I asked what they could do with $10,000, which was all the money I could offer. Everyone agreed that a project to provide food for Shasha was the most urgent and in keeping with the style of project we want to do with them. We worked out the basics and they will work on the details.

Then Josephine and Gogo talked about their work, and Gilbert made one of his flashy presentations. We talked about possible connections and resources. Gogo made a spirited plea for help with women’s advocacy efforts. “We need to have our message about the situation here and the need for change arrive ‘outside’ and for someone to help us follow up on contacts we make that way. We need someone who can be a liaison for us on the national and international levels.” *** Put Gogo in touch with Mary Stata.

Gilbert blustered and criticized us and bragged about his peace and trauma work, and then we closed the meeting. It started late and ended early and I think it was just fine. It was clear I was not happy about the hangar and it was not mentioned. My initial instincts about working with that project are confirmed. The group was thrilled to receive Seeking Peace books and would like to have more. ***Josephine will be in Kinshasa this coming weekend and if possible I will send a carton back with her.

Late in the afternoon Baudouin and his family came to visit me: Mme (forget her name), Junior, and baby Victoire. (Photo 376) Nice visit. We had cold drinks. Mme. asked for “Kingfish” so I thought she was ordering food and was all embarrassed. They said they did not have it and we all drank Fanta. (Later I learned that “Kingfisher” is a local drink, kind of a wine teaser. Then I understood the situation better.) They expected more from me than they got; like I said to JdeD, “we don’t have a lot to offer, but we’re friendly.” (No I did not say that out loud to Baudouin.)

Visit to Goma and Bukavu Day 1

2009-07-02T06:58:00.000-07:00

Big mess at domestic departure terminal. Apollo still does not have his protocol badge, so had to negotiate and pay to go in with me. In the end we abandoned the second box of books because it was too much hassle. There were about two uniformed officials for every passenger; never saw so many crisp blue shirts doing so many unnecessary interventions in the frantic flow of presenting tickets.

Good flight. Snack: big bun, vache qui rit cheese triangle, coffee. No trouble on arrival. Fidèle was there to meet me. Staying in same hotel as last year: beautiful Bungwe Guest House, an oasis among the lava.

Short visit with ECC N.Kivu VP, Mgr. Mauka Bulalo, a kind and gentle older man. He asked about Kirk and Mary; doesn’t think he received their report. *** Send report. Met Mittérand, who works with Fidèle in MERU office. Big hug and ho-ho-ho from Pastor Gilbert (peace, education, trauma healing); spent time with us last year.

Jean de Dieu met us at ECC, took us to his church, Christian Assembly of Goma, then to meet Inès, who works for provincial Amani program. She roomed with Georgette Nyembo at Burundi Peace Gathering last Jan. *** Photo for Georgette. Gave JdeD the three Gift Sharing books. ***He wants more, at least 30. Will meet Pastor Lufuluabo of CA church later.

Back to hotel for tea and bread with rancid butter. “Airplane ideas” for North Kivu:
-- MCC finish hangar with core funds. Christmas giving for equipment?
-- Harrisonburg (Shalom) church furnish funds to facilitate Jean de Dieu contacts with EMGL and Quakers? MCC offer to transfer funds?
-- Work on peace library again, and find current books in French.
-- Stress and trauma healing manuals to Gilbert.

Had a very nice visit with Baudouin Miruho, my phone and email correspondent whom I had not previously met. A real talker, full of energy. *** Connect him with Jean de Dieu and Pastor Lujuluabo. Gave him a Seeking Peace book, lace hanky for Mme, and $20.

I invited Jean de Dieu and Pastor Lufuluabo to supper. They also brought Ross Hollister, a Quaker volunteer. (Ross is the person who has been in correspondence with Shalom and Hyattsville pastors about getting help to send Pst Lufuluabo to Paraguay; references in the correspondence to “the relationship hasn’t been easy between JdeD and MCC Congo . . .” ) It is so hard to explain to these men what we want to do here, partly because I know JdeD feels rejected by MCC (me). I was very awkward. Wanted to bring up the issue of why we can’t support his work. Wanted to explain why we don’t know more about the Quakers. But the right moment never came. I asked them questions about politics. Nothing new. Asked Lufuluabo about his perception of ECC: “They have a superiority complex; don’t want anything to do with the revivalist churches (églises de reveil, which Christian Assembly is; I assume this is different from Pentecostal churches since they are very involved in ECC). The revivalist churches prefer to work with the Catholics more than ECC. They (ECC) only help themselves.”

We did a lot of lighthearted chatter, also. I got the impression they think I am pretty light weight. I gave JdeD ten Seeking Peace books. On parting I said, “I know we (MCC) are mostly a big disappointment to you, but we’re friendly.” He laughed hard and agreed. ***Make sure Tim meets Lufuluabo in Paraguay.