tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62510676920142378052024-02-18T17:46:14.849-08:00SHONA Congo www.shonacongo.comUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-43094419122082036312019-04-26T07:40:00.000-07:002019-04-26T07:40:46.653-07:00Mother's Day 2019<div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
This Mother's Day at SHONA Congo we are celebrating community! Because motherhood is a team sport. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">In Swahili,there are these two terms I love..."mama mukubwa" and "mama mudogo" They mean "big mama" and "little mama". They are generally used to refer to aunts,but the term is also extended to women who might not be actual relatives, but who have taken on this role in some way. </span><br />
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We all have "big mamas" and "little mamas" in our lives. </div>
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You know those women..they might be family members or friends or teachers or some lady at church. They might not say much. They might just stand quietly in a doorway and open their arms and your children go rushing off and for 5 minutes a space opens up in your brain. And you can think again. <div>
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When Argentine and Mapendo first arrived in Canada, Argentine's 1 year old daughter was sick. We went to the hospital, and I sat with Argentine and Mapendo, in this sparkling building, in a continent they had just arrived on. Perched on cots, I watched my friends trading Argentine's tiny daughter back and forth, leaving the doctors and nurses that came in to wonder which woman was the mother. </div>
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I watched Argentine and Mapendo play this game, trying to get the little girl to take some liquid. Argentine would offer some juice, and the little girl would protest, mouth closed, head tilted away. </div>
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Then Mapendo would say "Oh poor baby. Is your mama not being nice to you? Come to "Ma Mukubwa" (Big Mama)." </div>
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Mapendo would craddle the 1 year old against her bosom and gently lean back her head. In new arms, the little girl would momentarily forget her objection, drinking and relaxing into Mapendo's arms. </div>
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And then suddenly the little girl would jolt up, realizing she had somehow been fooled, and reach back toward Argentine. </div>
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"Oh did Big Mama treat you badly?" Argentine would say. "Come back me." And then the game started all over again.</div>
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They did this for hours, trading the little girl between the two of them, as they chatted about other things. I never saw them exchange a wink, or mention the strategy at all. It was as natural as the air they breathed. As though they had been doing it all their lives. </div>
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This Mother's Day, may we celebrate community. May we look for the Big Mamas and Little Mamas that make our lives possible. May we see those arms that trade our children back and forth. This, too, is motherhood. </div>
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www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-69206711035721276392019-01-18T07:54:00.004-08:002019-01-18T07:54:42.400-08:00Empowerment backwards<br />
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I rarely post a rant...but...this one...the more I think about it... it keeps getting under my skin. We got an email from a non-profit organization asking for permission to use this photo of Argentine, they had found, from years ago. The email said "asking your permission to use the photograph of an African lady with a sewing machine and crutches alongside in a leaflet to raise funds for ‘Empowering Women with Disabilities in East Africa’."</div>
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Props to them for finding us and asking for permission.<span> </span><br />Clearly they are trying to do it right. But frankly, I just don't understand. The organization has ongoing work in a number of East African countries. If they are working there, shouldn't they have photos from their own work?<span> </span><br />The organization has an annual income of over $800,000, I am sure they can afford to get a photo of the excellent work they are doing. And if not, perhaps they should focus on the excellent work part first.</div>
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The message leaves me asking "Don't they already know anybody with disabilities in East Africa? Haven't they already built a relationship with them? If not, how do they propose a program to "empower" them? "</div>
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I think this is actually a common mistake in the non-profit world. We are starting backwards. We propose the program first, raise the money, and then go around and look for the people to "empower". That is not empowerment, at least not for the people on the ground. Maybe it will be good work. But let's not call it empowerment.</div>
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When we see empowerment backwards, what we miss is where it starts. We come to believe that it starts from the outside, and particularly that it starts from us.</div>
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They asked for permission to use this photo of "An African lady with a sewing machine and crutches" That is what bothers me. I have never thought of that photo that way.</div>
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To me that photo has always been a photo of my friend Argentine. And I am guessing that it is to you.</div>
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I know that if I asked, you could tell me all kinds of things you know about Argentine. Where she is from, where she lives now, the way she sings, her daughter's name, her incredible smile and laughter, the tragedies she has experienced.</div>
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I think it is important to know all of that. Because it reminds us of where empowerment starts, and what this photo is all about.</div>
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As a child, Argentine never went to school because of her disability. And yet she would sit and wait for all the other kids to come home from school, and she would call them towards her with her smile and her laughter, she would tempt them towards her with her incredible personality. And then she would ask them what they learned, so she could learn it to. She was teaching herself in the only way she could. For as long as she has lived, Argentine has been using every tool in her possession to empower herself. And she is still doing so today.</div>
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That photo, you see, it isn't a photo that should raise funds. It is a photo that should raise awareness...of the talent, and dignity, and joy that belong to Argentine. She owns her own empowerment. And she owns that photo too. Let's start from there.</div>
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(photo credit to Molly Feltner who took this and many of the other beautiful photos of Argentine, Mapendo, Riziki and Solange)</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-55344663040860750912019-01-08T10:45:00.001-08:002019-01-08T17:53:35.141-08:00Erasing a ChalkboardIt has been a little over a year since Argentine and Mapendo and their families arrived in Canada. I am forever impressed by the people of Canada, and particularly the people of Athabasca, who made it possible for them to come to Canada, to build lives in safety.<br />
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The task is enormous when you think about it. Three adults who walk on crutches, and 6 children arrived in Canada last December. Just the reality of walking on crutches in Western Canada where the snow piles up, it is a challenge. One of the first things Argentine noted about their new home was that there were no people on the street. True, to get around in Canada, you largely need a car..there aren't crowds of people walking down the streets, pushing bicycles or selling peanuts. So countless friends have filled in for these families, who find themselves without cars or driver's licenses yet.
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Neema, Mapendo's teenage neice whom Mapendo has cared for since she was young, went back to school for the first time in 5 years. Can you imagine starting 9th grade in a new country and a new language, after 5 years without school? She's done beautifully, and is so thankful for the opportunity. <br />
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There have been a thousand questions to be navigated. How do you work a microwave, what to do when a smoke alarm goes off, why do Canadians eat bread all the time? What kinds of clothes should teenage girl's wear? It has been a fascinating year of questions.<br />
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Adjusting to a new culture, blending the old with the new, can be a challenge. One teenage immigrant that I know was given this advice: "Your life is like a chalkboard. You have to erase it first."<br />
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"All that confusion you are experiencing in a new country... it is because you are trying to write on a surface that hasn't been erased. It won't make any sense. You just have to erase more thoroughly," the man said.<br />
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As though the place she came from could be erased.<br />
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I too, have made a similar mistake.
I have been tempted to post before and after pictures of Argentine and Mapendo. To show how different their lives are now. The photos would make a great contrast.<br />
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But what story would I be telling? The place that they came from has not ceased to exist. It is not just a "before" picture. The place they come from is forever far away.
But it is also, always, with them still. Mapendo sits in her small apartment in Canada and sews African cloth, the same work she did while in Congo and in refugee camps. Her phone sits at her side and she waits for news from her mother in Congo who is sick.<br />
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This is the truth of the world. Home does not cease to exist, just because we leave it. It is easy to see resettled refugees, in fact immigrants of all sorts, as starting their lives anew. But who is to say where one life stops and the other life starts? Mapendo is saving money to send to her mother, so she can buy medicine and get surgery in the new year. Is that part of her "old life" or her "new life"? The line only looks clear from the outside.<br />
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Sometimes when I visit Athabasca, I hear a newfound friend asking Argentine how to say a word in Swahili. The result is always chaos and laughter. Sometimes Argentine's younger sister, Aline, joins in. She is a teenage girl, and has learned English incredibly fast, delighting in all that a new culture has to offer. But in this particular moment she is proudly pronouncing a word in Swahili. It gives my heart hope. The Canadian friend stumbles over the Swahili pronunciation and more laughter ensues. Maybe we won't all learn Swahili. But maybe that is not the point.<br />
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As these newfound friends celebrate the joy of language and laughter, I think to myself that I can almost see Aline's chalkboard full of words both old and new, somehow mixed together.. I hear the strength and the pride in her voice as she pronounces that word in Swahili and then again in English. And I am thankful, that she has found a place for both words on her chalkboard. And nothing has been erased. <br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-60626855820838864302018-06-19T19:22:00.001-07:002018-06-19T19:24:02.005-07:00On family separation<div class="m_-2994142536350160405gmail-" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"My daughter was 2 the last time I saw her. She is seventeen now. " </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first time I heard these words, my heart caught in my mouth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">These particular words belonged to a middle-aged woman, working diligently to learn English in my ESL class. She came to the class after long shifts at a local restaurant, cleaning tables and serving food. I had known her for several months before I even realized she had a teenage daughter. Had she never said anything? Maybe I'd never asked. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Since that first conversation, I've learned to listen more. And I have heard this story a hundred times. In a hundred different ways.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "My son is is Mexico. I haven't seen him since he was a baby."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "My girls, they grew up with their grandmother. They call me mama but they only know me as a voice on the phone."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At some point I realized, this is not just a collection of individual stories. This is THE story of our broken immigration system. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Recently, a lot of attention in the US has been given to the horrific policy of separating families seeking asylum at the border. We are all rightly horrified. And there is something uniquely horrific about witnessing our own government officials tearing apart mothers and young children and placing them in what appear to be warehouses. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>But let us also recognize that our immigration system tragically separate families in more ways than this. </b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the US<b style="font-style: italic;"> </b>we have created an immigration system in which it is virtually impossible for our poor and working class neighbors to immigrate to this country legally. There is no line for them, or if it exists, it is decades long. And at the same time, the US pursues international policies that gut local economies in the interest of corporations, destabilizes governments and pursues misguided "drug wars". In effect we have made it increasingly impossible for our neighbors to lead stable and secure lives in their own countries. At the same time our economy benefits from the hard labor of workers left with the only option to kiss their children goodbye and come here "undocumented". Nobody chooses that heartbreak. Not if there are other choices. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We are all responsible. Collectively we have failed to listen to the costs of an immigration system built to force a population into undocumented existence. </span><br />
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I don't have any easy answers. I believe that we need to change our immigration policies and our economic policies. And that is just the start. But I believe that first we must understand the true human cost of our current situation. For that, I am thankful for the outcry at toddlers being torn from their mothers. May the horror of it startle us awake. But may we not settle too easily for the myth that these are the only children separated from their parents. May we have the courage to see the story that is not just in our news feeds but all throughout our local communities. We all have people in our communities who are separated from their families, we just have to find the courage to ask. <br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-70653661172049807572018-04-23T07:53:00.000-07:002018-04-23T08:57:37.788-07:00The Top 5 things I have learned from Congolese Mothers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4iVKqM-YWWc/Wt38KSiFUkI/AAAAAAAAM4g/6oRanbsOpQ0vJ6WljfIGVQAJSEtXxDTBgCLcBGAs/s1600/GEDC0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1520" data-original-width="1600" height="304" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4iVKqM-YWWc/Wt38KSiFUkI/AAAAAAAAM4g/6oRanbsOpQ0vJ6WljfIGVQAJSEtXxDTBgCLcBGAs/s320/GEDC0011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>1. Hit the wall.</b><br />
In Congo, when a young child gets a little hurt, for example by running into a wall, the adults in the room will often offer a simple solution. Vengeance. Against the inanimate object of course. The adult will say "Pardon! Pardon!" as though the wall had somehow attacked the child unfairly. And then the adult will offer to hit the wall for the child. Literally. It is retribution straight up, and perhaps offers some concerning models of conflict resolution in the long term. But on the other hand, I often have witnessed tearful toddlers crack a smile at the suggestion, as though even they can see the ridiculousness of blaming the wall. Perhaps that is a world view we could all afford to share. <br />
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<b>2. Nobody has just one mama</b>. In Swahili, an aunt is a "mama mukubwa" (big mother) or a "mama mudogo" (little mother). But the term is often applied generously to women friends of all sorts. And the relationship is real. Women often take on the role of loving and carrying for and correcting eachother's children.<br />
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<b>3. Carry your baby on your back. </b><br />
While sewing. And cooking. And walking.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dMSCL79eDO4/Wt3rX15RpSI/AAAAAAAAM3k/1bxuXH2S_M0UtesZPnZxshJfSUf_ynDVACLcBGAs/s1600/solange%2Bcarry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="160" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dMSCL79eDO4/Wt3rX15RpSI/AAAAAAAAM3k/1bxuXH2S_M0UtesZPnZxshJfSUf_ynDVACLcBGAs/s320/solange%2Bcarry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><b>Or let someone else carry your baby.</b></i><br />
While African women are often recognized for carrying their children on their backs, what is often left unsaid is that African women often ask OTHER people (particularly older girls) to carry their children on their backs. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuI2dl_Ao-zeXE_FPZzNA6TvMCXnnHzNHWrGp-vyZnOMvk6YDXLteyAq8eWUt98BcVe0ePdJRKjFmIgnc6aa1p1m0TJMjAuEJBmhQbp_wu8bWw3Fh9PCOJHwFEvz1ueocwd5dheHsEQrvH/s1600/unnamed%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1197" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuI2dl_Ao-zeXE_FPZzNA6TvMCXnnHzNHWrGp-vyZnOMvk6YDXLteyAq8eWUt98BcVe0ePdJRKjFmIgnc6aa1p1m0TJMjAuEJBmhQbp_wu8bWw3Fh9PCOJHwFEvz1ueocwd5dheHsEQrvH/s320/unnamed%25285%2529.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Solange carrying Mapendo's baby.</div>
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<b>5. Forget the stuff. Carry a cloth.</b><br />
I have rarely seen a
woman in Congo carrying a diaper bag. There aren't a lot of baby
wipes, pacifiers, or dangling toys. Children just don't come with the
same collection of supplies. But one thing that every woman has is an
extra "kitenge" cloth. It seems like no matter what has gone wrong, a
Congolese woman will always have a "kitenge", quickly unwrapping one
from her waist or head. With that cloth, she can wrap a crying baby on
her back, or fashion a diaper, or wipe a runny nose.<br />
<br />
<b>4. Feign Seriousness. But make a joke.</b><br />
There is an approach to parenting young children that I will identify as "feigning seriousness". Congolese women often seem to take children's dilemma's very seriously, but you can always catch a glimmer in their eyes, and the undertone of a joke running through the adults. Sometimes, I hear myself here in the US, attempting to navigate a bedtime gone awry ("If you wiggle one more time I am going to leave!"), and I think I have lost the thread of the joke. How serious can wiggling be? Perhaps it is because of the communal nature of Congolese mothering, and the ever presence of multiple adults, that the jokes keep running. Or maybe because they are a little less inclined to tie their self-worth to their children's behavior. Whatever the reason, the undercurrent of joking definitely makes life with many children more enjoyable.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7iDup8DVu8EecooXxZ12osvAdmk6OcEbUn8Dh9I8xwL1BNsGOKwjFQeNm850SBotjlEAgzO8DdzCiTvq2fdOhIsqPfbspJ2z7ypxHpD0pLy-sJmKkaHiu7qAa_5c_k1dy-ply14hScZX/s1600/joyful+journey+short+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7iDup8DVu8EecooXxZ12osvAdmk6OcEbUn8Dh9I8xwL1BNsGOKwjFQeNm850SBotjlEAgzO8DdzCiTvq2fdOhIsqPfbspJ2z7ypxHpD0pLy-sJmKkaHiu7qAa_5c_k1dy-ply14hScZX/s400/joyful+journey+short+2.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>25% off all SHONA Congo bags for the next two days. </b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></span><i><b>Discount code: mzazi at checkout. </b></i></div>
<br />
<i><b> <a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">Buy a SHONA Congo bag</a> for one of your friends this Mother's Day. These bags are great ways to connect to other women and to find strength in our shared journeys. Each bag comes with the individual story of the woman who made that bag.</b></i><br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-27774711695173489802017-12-04T06:51:00.000-08:002017-12-04T06:51:00.894-08:00Happy EndingI don't believe in happy endings. <br />
<br />
But we are a culture in love with happy endings. And this story begs for one. <br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rHf1Oq8sJsw/WiVgJI9TWQI/AAAAAAAAMuw/ZcwrkppFCqEv9mT7Nxkoo__Gvzvm1kVBwCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rHf1Oq8sJsw/WiVgJI9TWQI/AAAAAAAAMuw/ZcwrkppFCqEv9mT7Nxkoo__Gvzvm1kVBwCLcBGAs/s400/P1010499.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
This is the story of Argentine and Mapendo, two young women from rural villages in Eastern Congo. They started with nothing. Survived war and poverty. Worked hard. And now they are about to board an airplane and arrive in Canada.<br />
<br />
You see how it is a Cinderella story, right?<br />
<br />
So let me say up front...I never wanted Argentine and Mapendo to leave Congo and move to Canada. And I don't believe it is a happy ending.<br />
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I believe it is a tragedy, that these young women couldn't build safe lives in the country they are from. What does it feel like to have to travel halfway across the world, and leave everything you know, just to find a safe place to call home?<br />
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May we never stop asking that question, and fighting for a world where 50 million people don't have to live in that reality. <br />
<br />
This last week, Argentine and Mapendo's family's scrounged any money they could find to buy bus tickets and visit Argentine and Mapendo one last time. They gave Argentine and Mapendo their blessings, on this next step in their journey. <br />
<br />
And that it is what it is. A next step, not an ending. With more joys and more sorrows to come.<br />
<br />
In 2 days I will board a plane and go to Canada. I will meet Argentine and Mapendo in the airport and I will celebrate with them. This is a moment worth celebrating.<br />
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But I will also remember that just a few days ago Argentine's mother hugged her goodbye.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1qOV9STj4ag/WiVf2nSr-2I/AAAAAAAAMus/UVyaG4pFO1Yh1JLmEpS7aINogq40r-upACLcBGAs/s1600/P1010504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1qOV9STj4ag/WiVf2nSr-2I/AAAAAAAAMus/UVyaG4pFO1Yh1JLmEpS7aINogq40r-upACLcBGAs/s640/P1010504.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
Then we will stand there in the airport in Canada and look at each other, imagining what is to come. We will bundle up 9 refugees in more clothing than they could ever imagine. And we will open the door and walk out into the frigid Canadian air, and see how their crutches work on ice.<br />
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Join the Journey. www.shonacongo.com<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-31998285359952560202017-12-04T05:44:00.004-08:002017-12-04T05:44:49.704-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RX3JErU2YcM/WiVRHZHXEFI/AAAAAAAAMuc/ldDhjS8bFMoViYzg35s7HuCtpifTzdM7wCLcBGAs/s1600/4%2Bdays.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RX3JErU2YcM/WiVRHZHXEFI/AAAAAAAAMuc/ldDhjS8bFMoViYzg35s7HuCtpifTzdM7wCLcBGAs/s640/4%2Bdays.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="_5pbx userContent _3576" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_77">
Countdown:
Arriving in 4 Days. Here is Jonathan, and his younger brother, Joachim
after they fled Congo for the second time. They were in a refugee
camp. No matter where you go, children will play. What's next for
these little guys? Join The Journey.<br />
<br />
20% off all SHONA bags
for the next 48 hours. Give the gift of SHONA this holiday season and
tell someone about the beautiful, handcrafted work of Jonathan and
Joachim's mama. Your support has carried us so far. <a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.shonacongo.com%2F&h=ATPDMI2_IS26NmnlZlh5Z85nBWNbafjqBVxzPpQMAZTd-jUh6rOCa-z3lOnW1kDQaVCN0lk2SaUcoMchfnapEYf0LjbLIt2O69BQwQ1h1NQ4qFbKD6fIGoMJr029wkrgUUHev-7YiFZfQwx90kQNJ5ShdNRpQMgdi1u8pO_9Fy9W61GDY7VPlb2WBgD9eQYJcUMz4_E3I37Ql26PFOfRIxFRMKduUknwGBeCwI7EAX0koaABUD8Ow1YM5feT9Xo5oMwCQAMRxRq5SmwxMjcqmDVy8WkBphCfOWi0E5FiaW-E1IU6cFcT" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.shonacongo.com</a> discount code: siku4 at the end of checkout.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-56546661774132598722017-12-02T08:51:00.002-08:002017-12-02T08:51:48.342-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DAJptgWn_HQ/WiLYFyqaStI/AAAAAAAAMt4/dFETGR2vZV0Pv4uJnk1fbHD_Gm2yQnu3QCLcBGAs/s1600/5%2Bdays.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DAJptgWn_HQ/WiLYFyqaStI/AAAAAAAAMt4/dFETGR2vZV0Pv4uJnk1fbHD_Gm2yQnu3QCLcBGAs/s640/5%2Bdays.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5c6365; font-family: "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5c6365; font-family: "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px;">Countdown: Arriving in 5 days! This photo is of Mapendo, Joseph, their baby and their niece, just before Christmas 5 years ago when they first became refugees. They were at a transit camp in Burundi, having fled Congo with nothing and they had no idea what lay ahead. Jonathan was a baby in Mapendo's arms in this photo and now he will be entering Kindergarten when he arrives in Canada! Mapendo's niece will be entering high school. Imagine where the next 5 years will take this family! Join the Journey. <a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">www.shonacongo.com</a> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5c6365; font-family: "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5c6365; font-family: "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px;"><i>Argentine, Mapendo and their families will be resettled as refugees in Canada on December 7th, 2017. Riziki and Solange remain in Congo. We are incredibly grateful to all of you for supporting each step of this journey. Your purchases continue to matter infinitely to these beautiful families.</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #5c6365; font-family: "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5c6365; font-family: "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px;"><b>Give the gift of SHONA Bags this holiday season and invite your friends to join this journey with us!</b></span><br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-12451304447879193772017-11-15T10:48:00.003-08:002017-11-15T10:48:41.384-08:00Why we should buy Argentine a Mic this holiday season<br />
"Wait, what?" you
say. "Has SHONA made it so big that we no longer have to worry about putting
food on the table?" <br />
<br />
I wish. That's not it at all. We still face all those daily struggles. <br />
<br />
But a Microphone is powerful. And in this world, we in the "West", have been holding the mic for a long time. <br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<br />
Look at Argentine's face when she is holding that mic.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v7YDMwAmnUc/WgyL1qhT_OI/AAAAAAAAMo4/i8qxG648_MoaNBj3ab5RmzMXy8JHIQ7BgCLcBGAs/s1600/argentine%2Bmic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v7YDMwAmnUc/WgyL1qhT_OI/AAAAAAAAMo4/i8qxG648_MoaNBj3ab5RmzMXy8JHIQ7BgCLcBGAs/s1600/argentine%2Bmic.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
One of the things that the SHONA Congo women talk about the most is
what it feels like to be walking in the street and be mistaken for
"beggers". Because of their crutches... people just assume. That is
where the word "handicapped" comes from "Cap in Hand"...begging. <br />
<br />
So how about flipping the script? How about "mic in hand"? You see why it matters right?<br />
<br />
That is why we need your help to start "Congo Voices", a video channel
where the SHONA Congo women will share their lives with you, from their
own perspectives. You can donate to our start-up costs at <a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.shonacongostore.com%2Fpass-the-mic-investment%2F&h=ATPvmHlqPhMlGPWT2dlzrfJJH0p2AmAMxzdASFB11Kt4rxxT4nQfHaSqd_F0kC__QO2R3AX50kD89WjlN9NJn8Jrx6NewUhz4I4eTx_N2q4uy930Jl0CQBX7wgoS5MYSVle04QiOfk0nz81phtAw8C7FO66u4Li3hMYgJJUD4l0lnj-9cuvvzZzzc7gX6BvRC_Cz9DD5mZQ-kmYcTKkoF8t5Jq7b04rOHrbi9MXejITM-MI7bgA-ryIhb0uli9fCHjNRZnj0a_F74XWxFZhuO_kvspmcMWlG9V1udT9n2FzipreiaYf0" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.shonacongostore.com/pass-the-mic-investment/</a> and help us literally buy that mic. Or for just a few dollars you can become a monthly sponsor of our channel at <a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.patreon.com%2Fcongovoices&h=ATMUW-_aY3Q08rOq2sN8pdJLBsIjW6nHCW-LUT_bN0ArfKXnmR4LnUTn5toyR7nqzq-Z7OaeoeEZ6chrvlY9kSgZovwg97Eqr9Q4jCZtoJTXhYwuaf2JyMoFGE8Tn8ZGa1QUKPFlFIw7Cja-Lm9pK70RN6qRTcBHgGmmvoU1crOoL9Js14QeaUGPYlgtm_vs1sjIidKTjPC0tYyqNIrCldwVwT2CK-EodBDSpbgTq0m1TGyag_QF_vbdDoWgKkqqUnzVUbtA2WhFydpfRzud6U3FmbHpwc4RPambwPR9Dzwz6mOV38Ms" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://www.patreon.com/congovoices</a>.<br />
<br />
I just got off the phone with Solange, in Goma, where every night she
continues to hear shooting and violence in their poor neighborhood on
the edge of town. <br />
<br />
She was so excited and ran off to start
shooting a video with her phone. Because a microphone matters. The
chance to share your experiences with the world matters. And it doesn't
matter less just because you are poor, and struggling to put food on
the table. Maybe it matters more. <br />
I don't know what this
channel will end up looking like. Will it be a place where Argentine
teaches you how to sing a song in Swahili? Or where Solange shows you
what it is like to live in her neighborhood. I don't know what it will
look like, because it depends on the women...And it depends on you.<br />
<br />
Join us this holiday season, as
Argentine and Mapendo get ready for the biggest journey of their lives.
And Riziki and Solange fight for their own lives in a place full of
more beauty and more chaos than any other place I have ever been.<br />
<br />
Join us, and let's make sure these amazing women have a MIC IN HAND. Because I know they've got something to say.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4MHW4A23xc0/WgyLv7h251I/AAAAAAAAMo0/EuaFOkaprNUbGJnn7d-CYe7RO7K4LWyhgCLcBGAs/s1600/pass%2Bthe%2Bmic.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4MHW4A23xc0/WgyLv7h251I/AAAAAAAAMo0/EuaFOkaprNUbGJnn7d-CYe7RO7K4LWyhgCLcBGAs/s320/pass%2Bthe%2Bmic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-21025141877952987972017-10-09T16:47:00.002-07:002017-10-09T16:47:14.596-07:00And then it came...<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
When Argentine and Mapendo and their families went in for interviews with the Canadian government a few weeks ago, they were hoping to come out with medical forms. They knew that was a sign you were really going to be resettled, when you got to the medical exam stage. They left the interviews with no medical forms, and only the promise that soon they would be contacted about the next step! It has been a long couple weeks of holding our breath.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Today they received their medical forms! And onward they move to the next stage in this journey. Medical exams, background checks...With each step it becomes more real that soon (just in time for winter?!?!?) they may find themselves in Canada.</div>
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Let's celebrate this latest step on Mapendo and Argentine's journey and at the same time also remember Solange and Riziki, who remain in Congo. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Many times on this journey I have wondered about the different paths we all take. When do you stay in your home and when do you flee? Which road will prove safer? Please keep Solange and Riziki in your thoughts and prayers these days. Living the daily work of life is never easy and in Goma, it can be a real struggle. Yet these women endlessly impress me with the beauty they create, and the steadiness of their hands each day.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-24389542479811817722017-09-18T15:52:00.000-07:002017-09-18T15:52:24.933-07:00"A Memorable Day in Our History"<br />
<br />
That is what Mapendo's husband called this day...the day this photo was taken.<br />
<br />
They were sitting in an office building waiting to meet with Canadian
Visa Agents. How amazing that this day should ever arrive.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FCR7lKuRT04dUFEG1LZTUIk7nX_b2PA9OPmPiKQREVfII3TISYnp5zBCRlAQEZ1jui_BZHoWP2ywXJJsZxSn3ZrFCdr9G4yzgMLjN8NjIfmpTS7u9BOghIsSS5jx2gy0qtJGaosgL9o1/s1600/21586012_607765606280393_843168698_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FCR7lKuRT04dUFEG1LZTUIk7nX_b2PA9OPmPiKQREVfII3TISYnp5zBCRlAQEZ1jui_BZHoWP2ywXJJsZxSn3ZrFCdr9G4yzgMLjN8NjIfmpTS7u9BOghIsSS5jx2gy0qtJGaosgL9o1/s640/21586012_607765606280393_843168698_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
They were asked many questions. The interviewers were kind. And shocked
by all they had been through. And by the clothes they were wearing.
Argentine was wearing a dress she had made (if you look real close at
the purple cloth she has on you will recognize it as a SHONA cloth!)
The interviewer asked "Did you really sew that dress? On your own?"
She loved the dress. And the hands that made it,<br />
<br />
Their fingerprints were taken. They signed forms.<br />
<br />
And then they were sent home to wait some more. We think everything went well, but still it is a nervous wait.<br />
<br />
Perhaps the SHONA women are better at waiting than I am. Perhaps all of Africa is.<br />
<br />
<em>When it rains in Congo, you find a roof to stand under and you
wait. That is what everyone does. You stand with complete strangers,
huddled together, just barely out of the rain. But there is no cursing
the sky and looking impatiently at your watch. There is chatter and
laughter.<br />
<br />
It always felt to me as though no one had anywhere else to go, nothing
else planned. Then I would glance at the basins full of tomatoes they
had been carrying on their heads, the bags of charcoal by their sides,
and I would know that they were headed somewhere. We all are. My
schedule was no more urgent than theirs. They just knew to expect the
rain. And to expect the sunshine after a while.</em><br />
<br />
We will let you know as soon as we hear more! Thank you for sending
your love and prayers! And in the meantime please keep shopping SHONA!
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-71396048135411202762017-01-26T18:37:00.002-08:002017-01-26T18:38:23.507-08:00Chalk dustIt's loud outside.<br />
<br />
In the world these days.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But here I find myself in the quiet. <br />
<br />
Unpacking a shipment<br />
<br />
of new bags from Mapendo and Argentine.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jNOAfsQd7vk/WIqfnw7rqcI/AAAAAAAAK00/-6pZMCJAkj07QgoA5v-Lski9ff4RGqZQQCLcB/s1600/IMG_1190.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jNOAfsQd7vk/WIqfnw7rqcI/AAAAAAAAK00/-6pZMCJAkj07QgoA5v-Lski9ff4RGqZQQCLcB/s640/IMG_1190.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
I unfold each bag slowly, feeling the cloth in my hands. <br />
<br />
tracing the stitches made just slightly uneven, by a hand-peddled sewing machine.<br />
<br />
My heart rests for just a minute.<br />
<br />
<br />
Soon I will go out in the world again.<br />
<br />
<br />
But first I peer inside the darkness of each bag,<br />
and look for what I know I will find.<br />
White dust on black cloth,<br />
The line of chalk that Argentine drew. <br />
The path her scissors followed. <br />
<br />
I let my fingers trace that path.<br />
<br />
It is not enough.<br />
Selling these bags. <br />
Argentine and Mapendo are only 2 refugees.<br />
<br />
But I know their names.<br />
<br />
So I fold each bag carefully<br />
and am thankful for the chalkdust that rubs off on my hands. <br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-52271067226188123722017-01-14T10:15:00.003-08:002017-01-14T10:19:07.241-08:00In search of miraclesA miracle happened.<br />
I just don't know when.<br />
<br />
Maybe that is the way that miracles work. They dance in the shadows, just out of sight, and you can never quite see them full-on.<br />
<br />
Let me explain. You remember that Refugee Resettlement Fund...that fund which so many of you donated to months and months ago. Remember how it seemed like we could never possibly reach our goal? Guess what! We reached our goal!!!<a href="http://www.airssociety.com/updates/"> $58,500!</a> (.That amount is truly unfathomable to me. It seems like a miracle and I am incredibly grateful.<br />
<br />
But where did this miracle start? Did it start with a <a href="http://www.airssociety.com/">small group of Canadians</a> who started this fund...who heard about Argentine and Mapendo and their families and decided to try and sponsor all 9 of them at once. Never mind how much money they would have to raise, or the paperwork they would have to do...or the fact that they had never sponsored that many people before. <br />
<br />
Or was the miracle when so many of you showed up and chose to support the fund. Because honestly... You could have looked at the numbers and gotten discouraged. But you gave anyway. That amazes me.<br />
<br />
And then, out of the blue, I got a message from a supporter. Her family wanted to donate some money toward the fund. That sounded nice.<br />
<br />
Then it turned out they wanted to donate <u><b>the whole rest of the fund</b></u>. Can you imagine that? At the time both SHONA and AIRSS had been working really hard. And had raised around $25,000. Over $28,500 left to go. <i><b> It seemed like an awful long way</b></i>. And now, in a moment, this generous family wanted to donate the rest. They said they wanted to remain anonymous and that it was a reminder of God's provision.<br />
<br />
A miracle, right? Yes, and we are so thankful.<br />
<br />
But maybe miracles aren't really about where you arrive at, no matter how amazing.<br />
<br />
They are about where you started from... and the little acts of faith that carries you forward each day.<br />
<br />
Because here is the thing. That family that showed up in the end...they didn't really fall from the sky, Hollywood style. They actually showed up 8 years ago. And bought a few purses. Purses that the women sewed themselves. And then this family stood with us, exactly the way all of you have stood with us. For a long time. Making small donations, sending love, praying for these women. And that, to me, is the miracle, dancing in the corners, just out of sight, scattered in a thousand pieces.<br />
<br />
The miracle is that each of us have our piece to the puzzle. And then somehow, when we least expect it, those pieces fit together. Thank you all for each piece that you hold.<br />
<br />
Learn more about the <a href="http://www.shonacongostore.com/refugee-update/">Resettlement Process and where we are now</a> <br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-25039066025864731532016-08-02T19:23:00.003-07:002016-08-02T19:46:42.866-07:00The text<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Argentine's daughter Rachelle died a year ago. </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This year, on the anniversary of that date,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Argentine sent me a text. </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It came late at night.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As I lay in my own bedroom</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">with the blankets tossed across my bed.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And my daughter asleep beside me.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The sound woke me,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">and I froze there for a minute in darkness</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">wondering what bad news might await.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mustering the strength to pick up my phone, </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">finally I did.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And there was Argentine's text...</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Sister" (she calls me)</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We have finished a year without Rachelle. Pray for us" </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And in my own bedroom</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">my eyes dance away from those words.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Into the darkness.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My own daughter's face warm beside me</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">suddenly glowing in the pale yellow light of my phone.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And as I lay there </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I imagine Argentine writing this text.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sitting in that small shack</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">in a refugee camp, the dirt rubbing at her feet. </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Her arm raised at an odd angle,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">tilting her phone just so.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I can see how that pale yellow light </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">would spill out in the darkness... there, too.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Illuminating the face of Argentine's new baby girl,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">only a few weeks old, nestled in her arms.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The new baby is called "Asante Mungu"</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Her name means Thank God.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I sit in that darkness.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Sister"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I type my response. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"we remember."</span><br />
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W-RSWivhIJY/V6FU7Etay1I/AAAAAAAAINs/kFCqTIUQHtIYcZUZK1Cs5FpGXCGH0AVGgCLcB/s1600/DSCN1344%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W-RSWivhIJY/V6FU7Etay1I/AAAAAAAAINs/kFCqTIUQHtIYcZUZK1Cs5FpGXCGH0AVGgCLcB/s320/DSCN1344%255B1%255D.JPG" width="299" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></pre>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Baby Asante Mungu</span></pre>
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<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oQZ-wSxWkQ8/V6FWz55rW3I/AAAAAAAAIOA/9K5EhfCH3SMRYuq2oqqr7piH6cDr11xjgCLcB/s1600/HPIM6979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oQZ-wSxWkQ8/V6FWz55rW3I/AAAAAAAAIOA/9K5EhfCH3SMRYuq2oqqr7piH6cDr11xjgCLcB/s320/HPIM6979.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></pre>
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<pre><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Baby Rachelle</span></pre>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-32722192535639373002016-06-24T11:44:00.001-07:002016-06-24T12:12:18.985-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HOGaZkR2Wl0/V21Z15MMrOI/AAAAAAAAFQ4/I16Ft0nw8C4g587ZACnpPN3x42j0L9-VgCLcB/s1600/DSCN1260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></h2>
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<b>From a refugee camp in Africa... </b></h2>
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<b> </b></h2>
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<b>The steps for taking a family picture with a toddler. (Apparently they apply no matter where you live.) </b></h2>
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<b>Step 1: Parents prepare for the picture</b></h3>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HOGaZkR2Wl0/V21Z15MMrOI/AAAAAAAAFQ4/I16Ft0nw8C4g587ZACnpPN3x42j0L9-VgCLcB/s1600/DSCN1260.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HOGaZkR2Wl0/V21Z15MMrOI/AAAAAAAAFQ4/I16Ft0nw8C4g587ZACnpPN3x42j0L9-VgCLcB/s640/DSCN1260.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Step 2: Toddler stands still for the picture</b></h3>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FKLAHzS2ccY/V21Z4KGwvFI/AAAAAAAAFRA/7_cC9JwnRc8IM1jjOyU35a2QNbNNLMBHgCLcB/s1600/DSCN1267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="507" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FKLAHzS2ccY/V21Z4KGwvFI/AAAAAAAAFRA/7_cC9JwnRc8IM1jjOyU35a2QNbNNLMBHgCLcB/s640/DSCN1267.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Step 3: Parents give up on that</h3>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ofX4gh9v9CI/V21Z5REuTMI/AAAAAAAAFRI/h7Iznu1t6VMuW-fbUvhaFvtj1VPfMmWiQCLcB/s1600/DSCN1269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="462" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ofX4gh9v9CI/V21Z5REuTMI/AAAAAAAAFRI/h7Iznu1t6VMuW-fbUvhaFvtj1VPfMmWiQCLcB/s640/DSCN1269.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Step 4: Toddler celebrates</b></h3>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ue5EHxjHEXU/V21Z60gz0LI/AAAAAAAAFRQ/-JaDq5HmxM000yo1RUfMLxPB7pjUKKmlwCLcB/s1600/DSCN1274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ue5EHxjHEXU/V21Z60gz0LI/AAAAAAAAFRQ/-JaDq5HmxM000yo1RUfMLxPB7pjUKKmlwCLcB/s640/DSCN1274.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
This is Mapendo and her husband,along with her 2 sons and the 2 nieces that she cares for. They have been in this refugee camp for 5 months. They previously were in another refugee camp in another country. In fact they have been forced to flee their home in Congo at least 4 different times. Both Mapendo and her husband wear metal leg braces and walk with crutches. Can you imagine what it is like to flee for your life and carry these little guys with you...that one who won't even stand still for a photo? Can you imagine what it is like fleeing with these young nieces through war zones in which rape is far, far too common? The questions go on...<br />
<br />
We have an amazing opportunity. After years of being refugees, of fleeing in circles, again and again...Mapendo and her family (and Argentine and her family) are being sponsored for resettlement in Canada by <a href="https://www.youcaring.com/airss-sponsorship-group-of-10-from-africa-561665#goto-updates">Athabasca Interfaith Refugee Sponsorship Society</a>.<br />
<br />
It is a long process, involving a lot of documentation and a lot of waiting. And a lot of friends helping us out along the way. I have been working on filling out the documentation for months now. It has been countless hours on the phone with each person, reliving the events that brought them here. It is a crazy process. Here is how Argentine and Mapendo described their trip to the refugee camp. <br />
<br />
<b><i>We took a bus. When we got on the bus everyone told us "that road is very dangerous. You might make it or you might not. All you can do is pray." While we were riding in the bus we heard shooting up ahead. Our driver stopped the bus. He got out and walked ahead in the forest to try and see what was happening. All the other passengers got out of the bus and hid themselves along the sides of the road. But not us. We just sat there in the middle of the bus. Our disabilities make it hard to get in and our of the bus. So we knew there was nothing we could do but sit there and pray in that empty bus. After a while the driver would get back in the bus and drive us forward. We passed by the bus that had gone before us. It had been stopped by bandits and pillaged. They took everything from those people, even their clothes. Some people had been hurt. Some people had been killed. We drove on. And then we heard shooting again. The driver stopped the bus again. All the people got out of the bus again. And we just sat there...again. And prayed... That is what it was like...the whole way.</i></b><br />
<br />
This was just one small story, of the road they traveled to get out of Congo. But the truth is that each one of these 10 people has a million stories like this. To listen to their stories is to break your heart again and again. But it is also to marvel...marvel that they have survived. And it is to understand...understand in an instant... what it would mean for these 10 people to have the chance to live in a place where the word "safe" has meaning...where the bus doesn't stop again and again., listening for the sound of shooting around the next bend in the road. <br />
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I love this picture of Mapendo's 2 sons. After months spent listening to the stories of war, it brings me back to hope. You wouldn't know that these little guys are refugees. They are just little guys. Filled with lots of giggling and so much promise.<br />
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And like all of us, they deserve a future where they don't have to listen for shooting around the next bend in the road. And the great news is that we have a good chance of giving them that.<br />
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*<a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">SHOP: </a> Argentine and Mapendo (along with 2 other disabled women who
have remained in Congo) sew beautiful handcrafted bags. <i><b>Each purchase is an affirmation of
their dignity, beauty and talent. </b></i> </div>
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<a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">www.shonacongo.com </a> </h2>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q2I_EBF-ZiM/V217bg-i64I/AAAAAAAAFR0/l4EL3Ne8Cjs8xV0UUmSiOs0CS4kOe7PDACLcB/s1600/orange%2Bflower%2Btote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q2I_EBF-ZiM/V217bg-i64I/AAAAAAAAFR0/l4EL3Ne8Cjs8xV0UUmSiOs0CS4kOe7PDACLcB/s400/orange%2Bflower%2Btote.jpg" width="275" /></a></div>
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*<a href="http://www.shonacongostore.com/airss-resettlement-fund-for-argentine-and-mapendo/"><b>Resettlement Fund</b>: </a>You can donate to this fund on
our website. Donations here help us prove that our Canadian friends at AIRSS will have enough money to care for Mapendo and Argentine and their families when they arrive in Canada.<br />
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*<a href="http://www.shonacongostore.com/refugee-fund/"><b>Refugee Fund: </b></a>This fund helps care for the women and their families while they are still refugees in Africa. It is a long waiting process until the group can get resettled in Canada and in the meantime emergencies happen and life is hard. We are currently working on moving the women from the refugee camp to a safer place closer to a hospital so Argentine can give birth in a safe environment and so that they all can get better medical care. <br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-61370081302021236152016-04-10T10:34:00.001-07:002016-04-10T11:20:09.508-07:00On what it means to be a "mother"Mother's Day is exactly one month from today. So now is the perfect time to stock up on <a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">SHONA bags</a> to give to all the amazing women in your life.<br />
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Because we are all in this together.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gDLqldaILiE/Vwp5maeLocI/AAAAAAAAFHI/nKbAHb2gSaEZu6DDA2PpkMs9D0ifzCPog/s1600/parlaimant.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="401" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gDLqldaILiE/Vwp5maeLocI/AAAAAAAAFHI/nKbAHb2gSaEZu6DDA2PpkMs9D0ifzCPog/s640/parlaimant.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Do you remember when this picture of European parliament member taking her daughter to work went viral a few years ago? When I saw it I thought immediately of <span style="font-size: small;">this picture of Solange sewing.</span><br />
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ys7psulLX-k/Vwp40lJ0jtI/AAAAAAAAFHA/hjW2rdBU4zsQWAopjfqjGAXZ2hbE0aghQ/s1600/sewing3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ys7psulLX-k/Vwp40lJ0jtI/AAAAAAAAFHA/hjW2rdBU4zsQWAopjfqjGAXZ2hbE0aghQ/s640/sewing3.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
What struck me wasn't the difference between these 2 mothers. It was the similarity. The way that across countries...across languages, cultures and economic differences... so very much remains the same.<br />
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And then I thought of this picture.<br />
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That is Solange again. With a baby on her back again. She is in the process of delivering SHONA stock to the post office. But wait... it is different..that is Mapendo's son on her back. Yet what strikes me again, is not the difference but the similarity. Can you tell the difference between the photo where she is carrying her own child and the photo where she is carrying a friend's baby? I can't. <br />
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And then I thought of this picture. <br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uBP-Qrc7TVs/Vwp9zvWMLVI/AAAAAAAAFHg/vt_q0mDUpj82jwlDqSgUXvQQFaOeOEQag/s1600/baby%2Bmarlaine%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uBP-Qrc7TVs/Vwp9zvWMLVI/AAAAAAAAFHg/vt_q0mDUpj82jwlDqSgUXvQQFaOeOEQag/s400/baby%2Bmarlaine%2B2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Of the arms wrapped around <a href="http://www.shonacongostore.com/baby-marlaine/">Baby Marlaine</a>. Whose mama died in childbirth. Whose family couldn't care for her, but who found the loving arms of Mama Sifa wrapped around her at <a href="http://reedsofhope.org/family-bethlehem-1/">Family Bethlehem</a>. And who grew up into this adorable little girl. In part, thanks to many of you, who helped get her there. Because they are all our children.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiLrtwQ-tKreqgTsNdsqwdZfMmzADrwfkz66FHY9jiggONHf1BnXN4-OgFSxt-glrXAqqALbvOXmta9tfPRe-sbHq-obBPBBFpPm6VB7C4SwpyuO8LXoXAvmVUcRcFtw7Nm1lDz2OfdL5W/s1600/baby+marlaine+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiLrtwQ-tKreqgTsNdsqwdZfMmzADrwfkz66FHY9jiggONHf1BnXN4-OgFSxt-glrXAqqALbvOXmta9tfPRe-sbHq-obBPBBFpPm6VB7C4SwpyuO8LXoXAvmVUcRcFtw7Nm1lDz2OfdL5W/s320/baby+marlaine+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And then I think of Argentine, and her daughter Rachelle.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aRR-dhjDvV0/Vwp_xKpb5xI/AAAAAAAAFH0/WwEbuEr6F7UlC_cOIJnEf8MDtBoOV3TTQ/s1600/SUNP0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aRR-dhjDvV0/Vwp_xKpb5xI/AAAAAAAAFH0/WwEbuEr6F7UlC_cOIJnEf8MDtBoOV3TTQ/s320/SUNP0041.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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When Argentine lost her daughter Rachelle, I can't count how many of you wrote with stories of you own, of the loss of your own child, or the suffering of a friend who had been through something similar. Because they are all our stories. <br />
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And that is precisely why I want to share this picture with you today.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIzDxDUf-XsEy28hlYdYgLT7hY2hzjBzb_dlE8UDnwTOz5InMgxA63PBP55G2dh2qM0YhYBgsXayAb-y7uZqXS8qWojTk2k3DokyURekConk2tOmvTLvmlZOHkFGyihsm3x1ytojxSqYt/s1600/camp+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIzDxDUf-XsEy28hlYdYgLT7hY2hzjBzb_dlE8UDnwTOz5InMgxA63PBP55G2dh2qM0YhYBgsXayAb-y7uZqXS8qWojTk2k3DokyURekConk2tOmvTLvmlZOHkFGyihsm3x1ytojxSqYt/s400/camp+5.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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That is Argentine, in a photo from a few weeks ago. I am happy to announce that she is pregnant again. That is one of the reasons why she needed to flee to the refugee camps again, she needed safety for herself and for the new life growing inside her. It is why we are incredibly thankful to our friends in a refugee sponsorship group, who are working so hard to sponsor her for resettlement in Canada. It is why we pray that will happen miraculously fast. And why we continue to ask for donations to our <a href="http://www.shonacongostore.com/categories/Contributions/">Refugee Help Fund</a>, in case that doesn't happen fast and we need to look for emergency medical care for her while she is still in the refugee camps.<br />
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But mostly it is why our heart breaks with Argentine, for all that she has lost, and soars again, for all that is still possible.<br />
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I have learned that this is what it means to be a "mother". To love fiercely in the midst of whatever world we find ourselves in. To offer our hearts to another, fearlessly in the midst of a fearful world.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflO7kuV9s_VYhjV5q3KpqNRAGGCtIP66XtGpMHJF7q29177ypkUXu73PWqDybUZBAuggno0BeiCStJq4RlXG5lVRcMo9m56uoqOUgFab5YMqEvFJanDfptnHIMv20PP4-RQ1WW01z4gc0/s1600/parl+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflO7kuV9s_VYhjV5q3KpqNRAGGCtIP66XtGpMHJF7q29177ypkUXu73PWqDybUZBAuggno0BeiCStJq4RlXG5lVRcMo9m56uoqOUgFab5YMqEvFJanDfptnHIMv20PP4-RQ1WW01z4gc0/s400/parl+2.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>
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We love our own children, or the children we find next door, or down the street, or across the world. We love the children we carry on our backs and we love equally those we carry only in our hearts. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZT6e6kXUvQCCfwGSGbiY3ZOR0m6TYb9oRCs8gDP33xgIeGt-wKhI3NwA7ZW7HWSGcRaxs5UQZ_M9CoMB4Kauc82SSunV5s5rkQlTfwQ75S0jZ4nR418p1we9AjGHFfW1CMySTfRGATe51/s1600/SUNP0197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="628" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZT6e6kXUvQCCfwGSGbiY3ZOR0m6TYb9oRCs8gDP33xgIeGt-wKhI3NwA7ZW7HWSGcRaxs5UQZ_M9CoMB4Kauc82SSunV5s5rkQlTfwQ75S0jZ4nR418p1we9AjGHFfW1CMySTfRGATe51/s640/SUNP0197.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Because, in truth, we are all mothers to someone. And we are all in this together.<br />
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Shop SHONA and share the story of 4 incredible mothers this Mother's Day. And remember that 100% of the profit from every bag goes back to the woman who made it...and the children she supports. <span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">www.shonacongo.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Mother's Day Sale: SHOP this week and get an amazing 25% off all your purchases. Do you need another reason? </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Use code: <b>mother </b>in the discount box at the end of checkout. </i></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-62085710488246811352016-02-06T13:24:00.001-08:002016-02-06T13:28:49.936-08:00And the journey goes on...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sometimes it seems as if life is forever muddy and complicated. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And then there is this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A photo I could look at forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A photo taken a few days ago, with Argentine smiling. After losing her daughter last year I wondered if we would ever see this beautiful smile again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> But here is Argentine smiling again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And cuddling a child in her arms.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrHeO6wVXR0jDp4uzY0E3TILgEdx01UyUEuxoqOQOsrDJsrTNMvlxEQoKfPWGIVuLVmSdeK1Sz4jKbGs_q84oD_vUifCtv-V3PzPrEJRYEo3z2FqW1rZC3rW2gSxdRuDuTPStkHLv3H7D/s1600/argentine+and+noella.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrHeO6wVXR0jDp4uzY0E3TILgEdx01UyUEuxoqOQOsrDJsrTNMvlxEQoKfPWGIVuLVmSdeK1Sz4jKbGs_q84oD_vUifCtv-V3PzPrEJRYEo3z2FqW1rZC3rW2gSxdRuDuTPStkHLv3H7D/s400/argentine+and+noella.jpg" width="350" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And joy, simply... inexplicably, seems possible again. Surely this is the miracle of life..that however muddy and complicated and full of heartbreak the way gets, joy still makes appearances. Hope still exists. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Here is the news: Argentine and Mapendo have left Congo and fled to a refugee camp again. But wait...before you heave a sigh and your heart breaks for them again...know this. Despite the fact that they are sleeping in a refugee camp on the cold hard grown, under a tarp, they are counting their blessings. Because for the first time in what seems like a year, they are able to sleep in peace again. I received a message just today telling me "we are thanking God so much, so much, because we are not afraid here."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Argentine has fled with her boyfriend and his <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">young</span> daughter (in Argentine's arms above), along with Argentine's younger sister (above left). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Mapendo fled with her husband, her 2 sons, and the 2 nieces she cares for Neema and Ziada (you will remember them from their journey to the refugee camp in Burundi a few years ago). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjwvtbVcObir6ieOAGwuBCyRCH53KF24-_Topizi6T3AeUmU0K3FOec1nHSpRnSz2NofmV6Reln48zgMOSK423G6bZUJAOU1kdYqvVmKzoS5J_wv3zcwsgDLd2s2SzawR4ZpLIuGRgvrG/s1600/Mapendo+and+kids.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjwvtbVcObir6ieOAGwuBCyRCH53KF24-_Topizi6T3AeUmU0K3FOec1nHSpRnSz2NofmV6Reln48zgMOSK423G6bZUJAOU1kdYqvVmKzoS5J_wv3zcwsgDLd2s2SzawR4ZpLIuGRgvrG/s640/Mapendo+and+kids.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Both Argentine and Mapendo were living in fear in Goma, with thieves often trying to break into Mapendo's home and Argentine facing personal threats on her life and safety. The situation, ever since Argentine's daughter died, has escalated. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But to flee and return to a refugee camp is no small thing. We tried again and again to imagine a way that life could be better in Goma. Was there a safer neighborhood or a safer way for them to work? But for these women, with all that they have been through and all they are facing, they concluded that there was no other way forward. So they fled. Miraculously they made it, finding a way across the border and to a refugee camp, 4 adults (3 of them on crutches) and 6 children. Just making it there safely is a cause for celebration.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRW9dPVY49M/VrZlN9hLKtI/AAAAAAAAFFw/RytFrtp9Hbw/s1600/kids%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRW9dPVY49M/VrZlN9hLKtI/AAAAAAAAFFw/RytFrtp9Hbw/s640/kids%2B2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">They are in a transit camp and have been assigned to a tarp covered structure. They made their beds by stretching out<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> a thin ma<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">t </span></span>on the cold hard ground and covering <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">it</span> with cloth. And there on that ground, they smiled. Because there was no sound of thieves at the door and there was no one threatening to hurt them. They slept in peace. And they woke up to a new day, and a new path on their journey. Thank you for joining this journey with us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Please keep supporting these amazing and courageous women by buying their beautiful, handcrafted work.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b> <a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">www.shonacongo.com </a></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b> There will be more news coming soon about what this new journey may hold for them but in the meantime thank you for sharing this journey with us. We truly could not do it without all our friends. And also, Riziki and Solange are both doing well in Congo and are still sewing so your purchases matter to all 4 women and the 12 children (or more) they care for!</b></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PZKebM8cW8E/VrZjmtvvFJI/AAAAAAAAFFg/ZZVHW23kLD0/s1600/IMG_5008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PZKebM8cW8E/VrZjmtvvFJI/AAAAAAAAFFg/ZZVHW23kLD0/s640/IMG_5008.jpg" width="482" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b> <a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">SHOP SHONA</a></b></i></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-37252924043974759962015-09-11T19:34:00.001-07:002015-09-11T19:36:50.173-07:00The Risk of Loving<br />
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<td style="-ms-text-size-adjust: 100%; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; mso-table-lspace: 0pt; mso-table-rspace: 0pt; padding-bottom: 9px; padding-left: 18px; padding-right: 18px; padding-top: 9px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="18" cellspacing="0" class="mcnTextContentContainer" style="-ms-text-size-adjust: 100%; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #ebebeb; border-bottom: #999999 1px solid; border-collapse: collapse; border-left: #999999 1px solid; border-right: #999999 1px solid; border-top: #999999 1px solid; mso-table-lspace: 0pt; mso-table-rspace: 0pt; width: 100%px;">
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love someone, we open ourselves to great suffering.... The greatest pain comes
from leaving. When the child leaves home, when the husband or wife leaves for a
long period of time or for good, when the beloved friend departs to another
country or dies … the pain of the leaving can tear us apart.</b></i><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b>Still, if we
want to avoid the suffering of leaving, we will never experience the joy of
loving. And love is stronger than fear, life stronger than death, hope stronger
than despair. We have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth
taking.”</b></i></div>
― <a href="http://shonacongo.us2.list-manage.com/track/click?u=357c10f79bc2edbbd2026107a&id=be82057e56&e=1037952924" style="-ms-text-size-adjust: 100%; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; color: #6dc6dd; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; word-wrap: break-word;">Henri
J.M. Nouwen</a> </td></tr>
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<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 14px;">The Risk of Loving</span></b><span style="color: navy;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">:</span></span><br />
<span style="color: navy;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: navy;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">(This reflection is based on the previous post. Please see <a href="http://fromcongo.blogspot.com/2015/07/being-there.html">here</a> for more info<br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: navy;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Recently my
husband was in Goma for work and was able to visit with Argentine. He said that
she is sad, but that she seems to be doing OK. He taught her to use a smart
phone to send email and photos. It is something she has always longed to do.
Sharing photos of her life, joining the global community. But it has always
been a step beyond her capacity for one reason or another. The technology or
the logistics were always just a little too complicated. But this time it seems
she has got it. And so I have gotten a bunch of emails and photos from her
recently. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: navy;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: navy;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Her most recent message read </span></span><b>"Don't tire of praying for me...because my head hurts and at night I
can't find sleep. I hope in God alone. I will be well."</b><br />
<span style="color: navy;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br />When she dreamed of learning to send an email, this is probably not the message she imagined sending. I am sure she had imagined sending happy messages and
joyful photos. Or at least that is what I always imagined receiving. <br /><br />It
seemed ironic to me, that now, in this time of struggle, is when she finally,
miraculously, learns to send an email. How can she have space in her head for
that right now? <br /><br />But maybe now is the perfect time. Maybe there is an
urgency to sending messages now...an urgency you find more in moments of
struggle than you find in moments of triumph. After all, when is it that we
need our friends and family the most? <br /><br />I have to say, it is not easy from
me. To be connected. I am always happy to hear from Argentine. But I am
always also heartbroken. Immediately carried back into her loss, and into my
own powerlessness to take away that pain. <br /><br />I am reminded of the words of
Henri Nouwen...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 14px;">...Still, if
we want to avoid the suffering of leaving we will never experience the joy of
loving. And love is stronger than fear, life stronger than death, hope stronger
than despair, we have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth
taking."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: navy;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Sometimes that risk, the risk of loving, seems
astronomically high. Especially in Congo. Suddenly I find myself counting the
number of times that every one of the SHONA women's children have been sick.
Promese, Prince, Daniel, Daniella, Jonathan, Joashe, Rachelle. They have all
been sick far too often. And I can feel myself calculate the cost of loving
women whose lives are a world away from mine, and who face countless challenges
that I will never be able to make disappear. <br /><br />But then I think of the
risk they take to love. Right there in the midst of it. They love children,
and parents and friends in a world that they know is terribly unstable. And
they continue to hope. What kind of risk does it take for Argentine to conclude
her message with "I will be well"?<br /><br />And come to think of it, what kind of
risk does it take for her to send that message in the first place, to reach out
and say "don't tire of praying for me"... to people halfway across the world,
who have a million other things calling out for their attention. The risk of
loving me, of loving you, when we might just as easily disappear from her life,
or just never get the message. <br /><br />But the messages keep coming. From both
sides. When I sent out our last newsletter, explaining Argentine's loss, I got
a lot of personal responses from many of you. Sharing your love, and for many
of you, sharing a story of your own loss as well. I've gotten countless
messages on Facebook asking how Argentine is doing, or saying that you are
praying. Many you have also generously donated to the fund in memory of
Rachelle. With those donations Argentine is putting a monument on Rachelle's
grave, and she is having a closing ceremony, to mark the end of 40 days of
mourning. She is also using the funds to contribute back to the community where
she has been staying and which has supported her. <br /><br />But what I want to
say is this: thank you. Thank you for taking the risk of loving. I often use
the phrase "it makes all the difference in the world". I use that phrase when
you buy something from SHONA, and it is true. Your purchase does make all the
difference in the world to these women. It puts food on their table, buys
medicine when they are sick, and builds homes to keep them warm. So thank you
for shopping.<br /><br />But thank you, for not just shopping, but for giving your
hearts as well. For taking the risk to love. Because that too makes all the
difference in the world. It doesn't so much change the world, but it changes
each of us. It strengthens us, so that together we can conclude every message
as Argentine did. We can say to each other... "I will be
well".</span></span> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCnKLaGw0A3V9sbN8eJr50faiKjSKfbkKHApWmKVeWlhdwXlnMRtz6iPuaISxw_1ho1UkeqVaxpPQz-4MQgReBmrV_jlCEX6JIfM2b9_jU7uWfu6jChek-OsISiUatT7HDcHJexvZsPfnd/s1600/IMG_20150908_173105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCnKLaGw0A3V9sbN8eJr50faiKjSKfbkKHApWmKVeWlhdwXlnMRtz6iPuaISxw_1ho1UkeqVaxpPQz-4MQgReBmrV_jlCEX6JIfM2b9_jU7uWfu6jChek-OsISiUatT7HDcHJexvZsPfnd/s320/IMG_20150908_173105.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-48000828323221253872015-07-31T17:03:00.001-07:002015-07-31T17:03:23.317-07:00Being thereArgentine's daughter, Rachelle, died. She was 2 and a half years old. It seems impossibly unfair.<br />
<br />
It seems so unfair because Rachelle had made it through so much. Born a refugee, she survived infancy in a refugee camp. On her way home to Congo a few months ago, she survived gunfire and a riot. And she made it home to Congo. And things were going well. We were building her and Argentine a house.<br />
<br />
And it seems unfair because Argentine has been through so much. More than anyone else I know. And that was before losing her only child.<br />
<br />
But mostly it seems impossibly unfair because Argentine is the most hopeful person I know. Hope, in the deepest sense of the world.<br />
<br />
But what becomes of the most hopeful person you know when they lose it all?<br />
<br />
I've been mourning Rachelle all week. But I've also been mourning Argentine. It felt like there would simply be nothing left of her after this loss. Argentine and Rachelle were a pair, just the two of them making their way through this world. And Rachelle was the light of Argentine's life.<br />
<br />
Indeed, I couldn't even talk to Argentine the first few days after Rachelle death. She has been out of her head with grief, unable to hold a conversation.<br />
<br />
But I spoke to her today.<br />
<br />
And as I talked to her my heart felt a little lighter. Because I found that she was still there. Still Argentine.<br />
<br />
Her voice was faint and she couldn't talk for long, but she took the phone and did exactly what Argentine always does. She launched into a litany of thanks. Thanking me for calling, thanking you for praying for her, thanking Mapendo, Riziki and Solange for being at her side for every minute since Rachelle's death... and the list went on.<br />
<br />
Vintage Argentine.<br />
<br />
And she ended exactly the way she always ends a conversation. Asking us to pray for her. <br />
<br />
How amazing is that? To talk to a person in the midst of the deepest grief imaginable, and find a seed of hope still lives. To find that they somehow, miraculously, still remain...<br />
<br />
She encouraged me and strengthened me, just by still being there. By still being Argentine.<br />
<br />
It strikes me that is all any of us really have to offer in life. To still be there. To still offer ourselves to eachother.<br />
<br />
It is what Mapendo, Riziki and Solange have been doing all week. Being there. When Argentine fainted again and again, and couldn't bear it, they were still there. Even with their own hearts breaking inside, they were there. And I have no doubt that encouraged Argentine.<br />
<br />
To be present in mourning is something Congolese culture does well. Family and friends arrive...and they don't leave. For days and days. In fact it is a part of the culture that I have sometimes been frustrated by. It can be an economic hardship on a mourning family when suddenly dozens of people need to be welcomed and fed.<br />
<br />
But perhaps they understand grief better than I. Perhaps they understand the power of simply sitting with eachother...in the midst of grief and in the midst of life.<br />
<br />
When I posted on Facebook the other day about Rachelle's death I was encouraged by all of our SHONA friends responses. All the love. But what struck me was that out of 38 comments, only 2 or 3 were people that know me, friends or family of mine (I didn't post it on my personal page). Everyone else was people that I have never met...but people that have come to love Argentine through her sewing with SHONA. I was particularly struck by one comment that said "I <span data-reactid=".2f.1:5:1:$comment10153677019353273_10153677361863273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2f.1:5:1:$comment10153677019353273_10153677361863273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2f.1:5:1:$comment10153677019353273_10153677361863273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2f.1:5:1:$comment10153677019353273_10153677361863273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.$end:0:$text0:0">remember how joyful we were when Rachelle was born. What a celebration..."</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-reactid=".2f.1:5:1:$comment10153677019353273_10153677361863273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2f.1:5:1:$comment10153677019353273_10153677361863273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2f.1:5:1:$comment10153677019353273_10153677361863273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2f.1:5:1:$comment10153677019353273_10153677361863273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.$end:0:$text0:0">Something about that seemed beautiful to me...that there was all of you... this intangible "we" who had celebrated with Argentine and who now mourn with her. Who know her. It strikes me that there is this whole collection of people spread across the world who can stand with Argentine in her loss,<i> because they have traveled her joys with her as well. </i> It means more... to know that the person who stands with you in that darkness, also remembers the life and the joy. </span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
Thank you to all Argentine's friends, for being there, in celebration and in mourning.<br />
<br />
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<i>Saturday, Argentine will go back to the Center for People with Disabilities in Goma. It is the place I first met her, and a strong community for those with disabilities. They will have a special prayer service in honor of Rachelle. I am encouraged by the way the community has rallied around Argentine. It will be a large turnout and that will mean a lot to her. The prayer service will be at 10 in Goma which is 4 in the morning on the East Coast of the US. And still I mention it because I know that Argentine has no shortage of friends who might want to wake up at that time to pray for her. </i><br />
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<i>Also, if you would like to help defray the cost of welcoming and feeding all those who have come out in support of Argentine, <a href="http://www.shonacongostore.com/in-memory-of-rachelle/">here is the link.</a> Argentine's mother and siblings will remain in Goma for several more weeks to continue to be with her. </i><br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-84513479676179262952015-06-15T21:21:00.001-07:002015-06-16T18:42:13.545-07:00A Bag from Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last month Argentine, her daughter Rachael and her little sister Aline returned to Goma. We are so thankful. She is the last of the SHONA Congo ladies to return home.</div>
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Argentine fled Goma when over 2 years ago, when she was about 5 months pregnant, and very, very scared. She made it to a refugee camp and give birth in a foreign country. </div>
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She often wondered how she could survive on her own, so far from family. </div>
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She wondered how she could provide for her little girl.</div>
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But she kept sewing and your purchases kept her going. </div>
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A month ago, as war threatened to break out in Burundi, Argentine decided to flee again. But this time she was fleeing from the refugee camps, back home to Congo. On her own, with her baby girl, and her younger sister Aline (a little girl of 9 years old) she packed up all work that she had been sewing for the past 2 months.</div>
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And Aline carried it on her head...along with Baby Rachel.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bU7JZZAsLOE/VX-bjnSAVaI/AAAAAAAAEaQ/K-D04DEfVac/s1600/SUNP0187.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bU7JZZAsLOE/VX-bjnSAVaI/AAAAAAAAEaQ/K-D04DEfVac/s400/SUNP0187.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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While Argentine made her way on crutches behind. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M_ZKnbiK-d8/VX-brfFK_DI/AAAAAAAAEaY/1N5AMM1qArs/s1600/SUNP0188.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M_ZKnbiK-d8/VX-brfFK_DI/AAAAAAAAEaY/1N5AMM1qArs/s640/SUNP0188.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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They hoped to mail the finished SHONA bags as they passed through the capital of Burundi. But by the time they made it there, tensions had escalated and everything in the capital was shut down in fear of war. </div>
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They found a bus to carry them over the border to Congo, and piled their parcels on the rooftop of the bus for safekeeping.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaKekYIwOizdqq-m6RfQhzPQu3GATMa_-1E4b5yuNTW4voLlByTdlWb9_kCS-TUnKHAzJHhmLAPeqIlkAPyi4bLvHj-FWmlSIwtytGve-1Y1Ab-cumsfAuYtVz4GlZ7GrDuwpFa1HRaJU/s1600/SUNP0183.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaKekYIwOizdqq-m6RfQhzPQu3GATMa_-1E4b5yuNTW4voLlByTdlWb9_kCS-TUnKHAzJHhmLAPeqIlkAPyi4bLvHj-FWmlSIwtytGve-1Y1Ab-cumsfAuYtVz4GlZ7GrDuwpFa1HRaJU/s320/SUNP0183.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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But on that bus journey, they ran into a riot. The population had barracaded the street, and was looting the possessions of everyone on the bus. Argentine listened to the chaos and held the little girls tight. </div>
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She thought they would die. </div>
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But somehow, just as the angry crowd started to unload the luggage from the roof of the bus, police arrived shooting in the air and sending the population fleeing.</div>
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(Does this sound like an amazing story? Read the full story <a href="http://fromcongo.blogspot.com/2015/05/argentine-on-way-home.html">here</a>.)</div>
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And these 3 little ladies continued their journey home. </div>
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Carrying these bags all the way back to Goma.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMIb_eDAtoj2FcpOCfC99FoEKcH47BvSc7oEZvYzFGHW8_jEoFI1YwCXomndzNm391PGutnVsOQXhR5gO03029O3GMIYZ_aD-g93z52mRlj-PC4jab3TbM2SXN_5K6jwwSF0R7IZVeR7U/s1600/0615152059a%257E2%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMIb_eDAtoj2FcpOCfC99FoEKcH47BvSc7oEZvYzFGHW8_jEoFI1YwCXomndzNm391PGutnVsOQXhR5gO03029O3GMIYZ_aD-g93z52mRlj-PC4jab3TbM2SXN_5K6jwwSF0R7IZVeR7U/s320/0615152059a%257E2%257E2.jpg" width="185" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nXqkRQ-KOM0/VX-hHrVcrcI/AAAAAAAAEbI/ATqfWOPQyWQ/s1600/0615152057a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nXqkRQ-KOM0/VX-hHrVcrcI/AAAAAAAAEbI/ATqfWOPQyWQ/s320/0615152057a.jpg" width="170" /></a></div>
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And now they are here. In the <a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">SHONA shop</a>. </div>
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They are lovely bags. I wish I had better photos of them, but maybe the photos below paint the best picture of all.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4E11VNfkLL8/VX-cZHLkNBI/AAAAAAAAEaw/Z3DbVTVDD7w/s1600/SUNP0197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="628" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4E11VNfkLL8/VX-cZHLkNBI/AAAAAAAAEaw/Z3DbVTVDD7w/s640/SUNP0197.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPshUsEzBlkPuw338eFOwD7Msegu8fgIJz9megj9ENfQdjJFjnDM2p_SBh-Phsv6PT1ON_V1r3gZvPGx3jyHPIJ5SPs8XwBtVj828Hdh7uQHGBP0UKMt77-kaTLzcU_zNAuMBxFSRcQe4/s1600/SUNP0199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPshUsEzBlkPuw338eFOwD7Msegu8fgIJz9megj9ENfQdjJFjnDM2p_SBh-Phsv6PT1ON_V1r3gZvPGx3jyHPIJ5SPs8XwBtVj828Hdh7uQHGBP0UKMt77-kaTLzcU_zNAuMBxFSRcQe4/s640/SUNP0199.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ever wanted a bag with a story? This is it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">www.shonacongo.com</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D2eYd0mbGyM/VX-hLEKhimI/AAAAAAAAEbU/paGsgrVcoZc/s1600/0615152054a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D2eYd0mbGyM/VX-hLEKhimI/AAAAAAAAEbU/paGsgrVcoZc/s320/0615152054a.jpg" width="157" /></a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-6103734489580367702015-05-14T08:03:00.002-07:002015-05-14T08:06:23.783-07:00Argentine On The Way Home...In my mind this is really the most unbelievable story. And yet entirely true.<br />
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As many of you know most of the SHONA Congo women left the refugee camps and returned home to Congo a year and a half ago. <br />
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But 1 woman, Argentine, chose to remain in the refugee camp in Burundi with her young daughter. As a single mother she felt it was the only way she could keep her daughter safe.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDDEW-6L62tEgteskSblePN9KSuWPJrlHr_GBwnEWOVRYNnS0tpcW7sDhN1iGCqkA5TFEltQ-Pi81qoz7kBG8p8zeub7QVd6344PKaNmOae3160bFY1giAfRl0m410FfxynAq0Rm1fQY6/s1600/SUNP0044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDDEW-6L62tEgteskSblePN9KSuWPJrlHr_GBwnEWOVRYNnS0tpcW7sDhN1iGCqkA5TFEltQ-Pi81qoz7kBG8p8zeub7QVd6344PKaNmOae3160bFY1giAfRl0m410FfxynAq0Rm1fQY6/s400/SUNP0044.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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That was until a few weeks ago, when the President of Burundi declared he would run for another term in office, and strong opposition began to take to the streets. Argentine called and said that she needed to get out of Burundi before the war broke out, but she couldn't find a safe way to leave.<br />
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Imagine that... sitting in a refugee camp, having fled the war and insecurity in your own country, only to be threatened by war breaking out in the very place you have taken refuge.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9Bnfh_GZ9xw/VVSuB9_XZjI/AAAAAAAAEYA/osV261MGCmA/s1600/SUNP0075.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9Bnfh_GZ9xw/VVSuB9_XZjI/AAAAAAAAEYA/osV261MGCmA/s320/SUNP0075.JPG" width="284" /></a></div>
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Imagine sitting in a refugee camp and looking at your 2 year old daughter, who was born in that camp.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0C-sGfrsuRA/VVSufxP167I/AAAAAAAAEYQ/oAmCufoyNi4/s1600/SUNP0037.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0C-sGfrsuRA/VVSufxP167I/AAAAAAAAEYQ/oAmCufoyNi4/s400/SUNP0037.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Then looking down at your legs, covered in metal leg braces and the crutches that lay by your side. And then glancing at the work you have done for the past 2 months.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PLffCpr-Y6w/VVSupeRLLOI/AAAAAAAAEYY/RGsfA6gl_P8/s1600/SUNP0035.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PLffCpr-Y6w/VVSupeRLLOI/AAAAAAAAEYY/RGsfA6gl_P8/s400/SUNP0035.JPG" width="300" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5B9OCkjkkDw/VVSuwJJ7LGI/AAAAAAAAEYg/d-BTNXFxXjA/s1600/SUNP0071.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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Seeing the 80 bags that you have carefully sewn, and packed, ready to send to America. And hearing that the roads are closed, and that fighting will break out any time now.<br />
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What do you do?<br />
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There was a moment of relative calm last week where Argentine saw her opportunity, and fled. She fled with her daughter and her younger sister, a little of girl of about 8 years old, hanging on to whatever they could.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvX9RvEZGwm-zhWMxVRpQZZs6BZ9vSju5tSYlj4x0usIghFQQOPWqfDmRODU_jViGJn3-bvW5M0v59ZTNCw-k39fPfDi6ZcRnOBj2COQ_jhMr2lLhhIPHm6RQpVknhQGwafXpoIV1nqyc/s1600/SUNP0049.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvX9RvEZGwm-zhWMxVRpQZZs6BZ9vSju5tSYlj4x0usIghFQQOPWqfDmRODU_jViGJn3-bvW5M0v59ZTNCw-k39fPfDi6ZcRnOBj2COQ_jhMr2lLhhIPHm6RQpVknhQGwafXpoIV1nqyc/s400/SUNP0049.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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They fled to the capital of Burundi, where they found all the businesses closed and they were unable to mail the giant bundle of SHONA bags that they were carrying with them. So they just kept going.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R_UHmu-8ECY/VVSuYVRf8VI/AAAAAAAAEYI/l3q3hn2hlfg/s1600/SUNP0027.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R_UHmu-8ECY/VVSuYVRf8VI/AAAAAAAAEYI/l3q3hn2hlfg/s640/SUNP0027.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Argentine and the 2 little girls climbed on a bus with their possessions and their SHONA bags and made it to the Congo border. They breathed a sigh of relief as they arrived at a town in Congo where a friend had offered to let them stay for the night. But they found the house crowded and knew they had to push on, to make it back to Goma. They borrowed money from their friend to buy tickets on a bus to Bukavu, the town across the lake from Goma. When they made it to Bukavu they would climb on a bus for the last leg of their journey.<br />
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They breathed a sigh of relief as they sat on that bus. But halfway through the journey that bus suddenly stopped. Argentine peered out the windows and grabbed the little girls closer as she saw the streets had been blocked by angry protesters. The population was rioting. Angry people clambered on board of the bus and began to beat the bus driver. A few Congolese soldiers happened to have been traveling on the bus. They slipped out the back and went to look for more soldiers for help. Meanwhile the angry population began to make its way through the bus, roughing people up, demanding all that they had. Argentine grabbed her little girls tighter and began to pray. She had only enough money on her to pay for their boat tickets for the final leg of the journey home. What would happen if they took that? The crowd got to Argentine. They picked up Argentine's metal leg braces, which she had taken off and set to the side for the journey. Without those braces Argentine cannot stand. <br />
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And then somebody said "she's disabled. Leave her alone."<br />
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And they did.<br />
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Argentine glanced to the heavens and heard a thump from the roof. People were on the roof of the bus, pillaging through the luggage that had been tied to the top of the bus. SHONA's 80 bags, all of Argentine's work for the past 2 months, were up there. <br />
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And then she heard shooting. The soldiers were back, this time with reinforcements and as they fired into the air the crowd began to disburse. Argentine hugged her little girls tighter. And someone started the bus again, and they fled down the road. Hoping this time to find an empty road to travel home.<br />
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Here is the crazy thing. This happened in Congo. Remember how Argentine was fleeing the unrest in Burundi? She was right to flee. <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-32732793">Yesterday a coup was announced in Burundi</a> and it is unclear what will happen next, but it is hard to imagine that it won't involve continued violence. But when Argentine fled the refugee camp she fled back to Congo, and as it happened, she stumbled right into another conflict. It isn't even the same conflict that plagues Goma. It was local unrest that Argentine could never have forseen. <br />
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Argentine had fled her home country, found a refuge, only to find her refuge threatened with war, and as she fled that refuge back to a home that still remains insecure, on the road home, she stumbled into a 3rd conflict.<br />
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And she did all of this with 2 little girls, metal leg braces and crutches, and 80 SHONA bags. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoM96WBUQh5CicVpReD_U42cghIW2dU65a2Pd747pF9uwdS-0VvB1wqGzqpid3W3MeWuxa76cqt95KRZghx5g3IX9wB0qnUdPCBv2FWsFQkf0g3sq9owKqvPKi4T3U2lrG1veRZ115Z6n/s1600/SUNP0028.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoM96WBUQh5CicVpReD_U42cghIW2dU65a2Pd747pF9uwdS-0VvB1wqGzqpid3W3MeWuxa76cqt95KRZghx5g3IX9wB0qnUdPCBv2FWsFQkf0g3sq9owKqvPKi4T3U2lrG1veRZ115Z6n/s400/SUNP0028.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
When they finally did get off that bus in Bukavu, Argentine climbed out and looked at the roof. And there was the bundle of SHONA bags, untouched.<br />
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Argentine asked me to tell those of you who pray, that your prayers matter. That she should have died. That she thought they were going to. That those bags should have been lost.<br />
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But somehow, they have made it home. Bags, and little girls, and mama. They are back in Goma. It was a long road home, but they made it.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b> The bags that Argentine sewed are her income from the last 2 months. That money that has carried her home and is keeping her and her daughter and sister fed and safe. Your purchases matter infinitely. Support the work of the 4 amazing women from <a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">SHONA Congo</a> as they continue to fight for stability, safety and hope in the midst of chaos.</b></i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtosRq9zgvKoksLBZqvRG8EsDX4tO_D2OBcEEQrq2kX3b1o71gkESKuDk_79ZqRu9DWCgbMMrAqnu3escT28X5cAleqv-xJcEYSeUMw0ozFDBN_TkI39fV8AJqm0rHKP9gKb43ijr3kdGA/s1600/swirl+long+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtosRq9zgvKoksLBZqvRG8EsDX4tO_D2OBcEEQrq2kX3b1o71gkESKuDk_79ZqRu9DWCgbMMrAqnu3escT28X5cAleqv-xJcEYSeUMw0ozFDBN_TkI39fV8AJqm0rHKP9gKb43ijr3kdGA/s640/swirl+long+1.jpg" width="454" /></a></div>
</div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-82753253864620242402015-02-02T15:51:00.003-08:002015-02-02T16:24:39.904-08:00Who is your child's hero?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Who is your child's hero? In this world of mass-marketed super-heroes, it may seem that there is a different answer each day. But the truth is, sometimes you are the hero. Even when you are exhausted, and out of patience, and covered with crumbs, you get to be the hero. You somewhat miraculously deliver food when the troops are hungry and comfort when a toe is stubbed. And that makes you a hero for a moment.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6NYttS0ON3s/VM_ZFjsd1UI/AAAAAAAAEUg/sDH7wboBt-k/s1600/mapendo%2Bwebsite%2Bbanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6NYttS0ON3s/VM_ZFjsd1UI/AAAAAAAAEUg/sDH7wboBt-k/s1600/mapendo%2Bwebsite%2Bbanner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6NYttS0ON3s/VM_ZFjsd1UI/AAAAAAAAEUg/sDH7wboBt-k/s1600/mapendo%2Bwebsite%2Bbanner.jpg" height="292" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This is <a href="http://www.shonacongostore.com/mapendo/">Mapendo</a> with her 2 sons. Cooking what seems to be an enormous pot of beans. I'm not sure what I love about this picture. But I think it is the way Joashe and Jonathan are looking at their mama. They are literally looking to her for nourishment, with the little one trying to steal a sip of milk and the older one's eyes glued to her face as she cooks. And look at the smile on Mapendo's face, as she provides for them.<br />
<br />
Because that is where the key lies. The ability to provide.<br />
<br />
Mapendo is disabled. Her childhood home was destroyed by the ongoing war. Shortly after her older son was born she had to flee to a refugee camp.<br />
<br />
If you were taking a poll of women who were likely to have to "relinquish" their children to an orphanage, she would surely rank fairly high. All the SHONA Congo women would. And yet they are such proud mamas. <br />
<br />
For the SHONA Congo women <a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">their sewing</a> has made all the difference. It has empowered them to provide for their children. It has empowered them to be their children's heroes.<br />
<br />
It is an experience that perhaps I have taken for granted. Every time my daughter asks for a snack, and I can give it to her. Everytime I tuck her into a snuggly blanket and she says "thank you mama"...in her 3 year old world I am her hero. I have what she needs. <br />
<br />
And that's what I love about this photo. Look at those little boys' faces. They are looking at their mama like she is a hero. It is no wonder she is smiling.<br />
<br />
That should be a right of every parent. To be their children's hero. Oh I know, children grow and become teenagers and you can't stay a hero forever...or even for an hour. But for a moment, when they are little, we are.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I think we lose sight of this privilege. We love children. And in our rush to help other children, especially those in countries torn by poverty and war, we rush in and become the heroes. We donate clothing, or make a doll, or pay school fees, or visit an oprhanage.<br />
<br />
And I don't mean to dismiss those endeavors. Perhaps sometimes that is the only way to help a child. But often it is not. Most children have adults in their lives, families that we can empower. That is true even of a surprising number of children in orphanages in Congo. Sure, it is difficult. But I think there are actually a lot of organizations out there doing this work. <br />
<br />
There are products we can buy that empower adult by creating real jobs in Congo with real dignity. <br />
<a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">www.shonacongo.com</a> (that's us!)<br />
<a href="http://www.mamafricadesigns.com/">www.mamafricadesigns.com</a><br />
<a href="http://equalexchange.coop/congo-coffee-project.">http://equalexchange.coop/congo-coffee-project</a><br />
<br />
There are micro-finance loans that you can give small vendors in Congo. By empowering a woman selling beans in the market to buy more inventory you help her to build a business which will sustain her family. <br />
<a href="http://www.kiva.org/">www.kiva.org</a><br />
<br />
There are programs that help educate and empower families and communities to support grieving children<br />
<a href="http://www.newhopecenter.org/">www.newhopecenter.org</a><br />
<br />
There are programs working to empower families to welcome home their children.<br />
<a href="http://reedsofhope.org/foundational-initiatives/"> http://reedsofhope.org/foundational-initiatives/</a><br />
<br />
There are programs that hire local women, train them and empower them to support each other in the face of sexual violence.<br />
<a href="http://www.healafrica.org/womens_center"> http://www.healafrica.org/womens_center</a><br />
<br />
And I am sure this is only the beginning of the list. Feel free and add more, because I am sure together we can come up with a great list of ways to empower adults in Congo. And for every time that we talk about children in Congo we should talk about adults. Because it takes only a second of glancing at Congo to realize that most adults in Congo have children that they care for, in one way or another. Let's be honest, most adults have <i><b>many</b></i> children that they care for. <br />
<br />
So let's make some new heroes today. Being a child's hero is an experience that should belong to us all! <br />
<br />
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-19695997481753716122014-10-17T14:49:00.001-07:002014-10-19T08:36:24.648-07:00Would you pick up that baby?<span style="font-size: large;">Imagine you hear a newborn baby crying. The mother has died, leaving the baby alone and shaking as she cries. Would you pick the baby up?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3sA5lvIkaec/VEGTcV4WwVI/AAAAAAAAERU/Yv61PGAjUdE/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3sA5lvIkaec/VEGTcV4WwVI/AAAAAAAAERU/Yv61PGAjUdE/s1600/baby.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now what if that baby might have Ebola and you have no protective gear? What do you do then?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It is a horrific question, but one which is shockingly real in West Africa. <span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">(</span>Read this shocking story from the NY Times<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/10/world/africa/heart-rending-test-in-ebola-zone-a-baby.html"><u> <span style="color: red;">here</span></u></a> </span>to find out what happens far too often and <span style="color: red;">from NPR</span><a href="http://www.npr.org/2014/10/10/354888965/when-holding-an-orphaned-baby-can-mean-contracting-ebola"><u> <span style="color: red;">here</span></u></a>)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In this culture it is easy to imagine a world of medical solutions. We can comfort ourselves with the idea that we would call 911. We can imagine loving nurses in protective gear. And there would be an incubator to keep her warm, Formula to feed her. And maybe a happy ending. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But in the West African countries reeling from the Ebola crisis, these solutions most often don't exist. These are impoverished countries whose medical systems were struggling even before the crisis. For example before the Ebola crisis the Liberian Ministry of Health listed just 50 doctors working in public health facilities serving a population of 4.3 million".(according to the <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/whats-missing-in-the-ebola-fight-in-west-africa/2014/08/31/19d6dafc-2fb4-11e4-9b98-848790384093_story.html">President of the World Bank</a>)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">How can we expect a country like this to respond to a crisis of this scale largely on their own? Yes, we have sent some help. But not nearly enough. And so we have left the people of Liberia, Sierra Leone and Guinea in an impossible situation. Every day families bring their sick loved ones to the hospitals only to be turned away at the gate because there are no resources to care for them. The Washington Post reports that as the epidemic rampages,there is increasing fear of providing maternal care for women in labor. So pregnant women, who might possibly have Ebola, are turned away at the gates, sometimes dying in childbirth. This leaves an orphaned newborn behind, and the question of what to do with a possibly infected baby. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And so imagine yourself in a place like this when you hear that newborn baby cry. With no one to call for help and no protective gear in sight, honestly, do you touch that baby? What if it was your grandchild? How could you not reach out a hand? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So how can we expect anything else from the people of West Africa? As long as we continue leave people stranded with an impossible choice, the epidemic will continue to spread. Because as long as medical care is unreachable and protective gear is unavailable, people will continue to offer their sick loved ones the only thing they can, a comforting hand and a place to die. No matter how much that puts them at risk of spreading the disease. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But there should be another option. We may not have a cure for Ebola but we definitely do have the resources to care for people much more safely. We could provide a massive response in these 3 hard-hit countries, with adequate protective gear, medical equipment, and trained professionals. Our government is capable of mounting massive wars, we are capable of this. And it would make a huge difference to the course this epidemic takes. But there is no will politically. And that will not change until the American public begins to demand it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So how is it that we have fallen silent? Or worse, fallen into circular discussions about how much we are in danger here in the US. No matter what you think about grounding flights or closing our borders, these are only secondary measures and will never contain the epidemic on their own. The best way to make ourselves safe here is to end the epidemic there. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But the epidemic in Africa continues to spread. And we continue to remain largely uninvolved.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Lately, I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be human. I have full faith in the humanity of the people of Sierra Leone, Liberia and Guinea. Without any other resources, and in the face of very real danger there are still people carrying a bleeding woman to the hospital or picking up an orphaned baby. They refuse to turn away.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The question is whether we ourselves will find the humanity to share our resources and help them do it more safely. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-7659181819573610442014-09-01T13:53:00.000-07:002014-09-01T13:53:18.316-07:00Labor Day<span class="text_exposed_show">In honor of Labor Day, I thought these words from Argentine were fitting. Here they are translated into English and in the video you can listen to Argentine speaking in Swahili. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxUK_uGNXoaI6dK9CsUtsAF_RWmZYZwK1CapiUF3AB6hZk-FD9IX9AU2rPiLY28Xla1cgKwz6VrwcxGRdnZZw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">"Me, I am thanking God very much because
of this work we have... Before we had a very poor life...we were
sewing in a shop...and they were "eating us" (taking advantage of us).
We didn't even have the hope that we could get work...<i><b>work that we could see is helping us and helping our families."</b></i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">Those words strike me... </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">"</span><span class="text_exposed_show"><i><b>work that we could see is helping us and helping our families." </b></i>What a seemingly small thing to ask for. The video continues and Argentine goes on to list all the things that they do with the money they earn. She mentions "small things" like buying vegetables to eat and soap to wash their children's clothes. And then she talks about the money having made it possible for them to flee Congo when the war escalated and find safety in a refugee camp. And then she goes on to say that she probably would have died in child birth if she hadn't had the money from her work to pay for a good hospital and medicine. Finally she points to the young woman sitting behind her in the video, with the baby. She explains that this is her sister in law with a new baby, who has also fled the war, and who Argentine is providing for through her earnings.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">To my American mind it is a scattered list with vegetables and laundry soap in between references to near-death experiences. And yet in a world like Congo it makes perfect sense. On the edge of poverty and war, there are no small things. Buying vegetables is as vital as fleeing war. And the SHONA Congo women have done both through your purchases.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">In honor of Labor Day we would like to thank each of you for creating a world where Mapendo, Argentine, Solange, and Riziki <b>can labor and reap the fruit of their labor. Thank you for supporting the work of their hands. </b></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"><b> </b> </span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6251067692014237805.post-30043840490002417622014-08-30T09:24:00.001-07:002014-08-30T09:24:47.952-07:00My problem with "reusable bags"This is how it happens. I am at the grocery store. <br />
<br />
Finally, miraculously, with my 2 year old daughter in tow, I am finished shopping.<br />
<br />
I
get to the check out line and realize I have no cloth bags with me. I
stare at the clerk as she readies her stockpile of plastic bags. I
calculate how many of those bags she is going to use on my purchases.
10? 15? Does she really have to double bag everything? I consider the
possibility of juggling my purchases home. Or simply abandoning them on
the counter. But then I glance at my daughter as she ogles the candy
display, and decide I have to get realistic. And I have got to get out
of here. <br />
<br />
So I reach to my right. Where I can happily
buy a few brightly colored reusable bags for 99 cents each. "What's a
few dollars for the environment?" I tell myself.<br />
<br />
But somehow it never quite sits right. Either way, disposable or reusable, my stomach churns. <br />
<br />
Because
there is something wrong with a disposable plastic bag. But there is
also something wrong with a reusable bag that costs a dollar. Or 59
cents. <br />
<br />
It's too cheap. <br />
<br />
I want to know who is making these bags. And how much their workers are getting paid. <br />
<br />
Because what on earth is the value of my "going green" so that I can support sweatshops? <br />
<br />
Still,
stuck in that line, wavering between disponsable and "reusable" I
choose reusable. I promise myself I will really re-use this bag. I
will hang it by the door, and remember it next time I go to the store.<br />
<br />
But
sadly, this bag is utterly forgettable. More likely than not, this bag
will be stuck, like a dozen similarly colored bags, in a drawer
somewhere I never quite remember.<br />
<br />
So what is one to do?<br />
<br />
I
don't have any easy answers, but it strikes me that maybe this is part
of the problem. Maybe real bags don't belong in the checkout lane next
to tabloids and cheap candy. If I can buy new "reusable bags" every
time I am at the store, something has gone wrong. Maybe we have made
"going green" just a little too cheap and easy. Maybe all those
"eco-friendly bags" are still far too forgettable and expendable. <br />
<br />
I would like to issue a challenge today. Buy one of our stunning new <a href="http://www.shonacongostore.com/new-category/">SHONA shoppers</a>. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOp5zcC9skZ3eBuchMpbVPMDaMV4iJThlIdPKjmYXfVw8JKNGJFKQn29r6lqhSbGTwUL67NYI1SGUoOuT3sb7N3HX2Ll-dShw-9sTAPiX9WnZIFMnKejMzP0uBdeYe4a1o-KDAMI5tyM_/s1600/sunflower+tote.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOp5zcC9skZ3eBuchMpbVPMDaMV4iJThlIdPKjmYXfVw8JKNGJFKQn29r6lqhSbGTwUL67NYI1SGUoOuT3sb7N3HX2Ll-dShw-9sTAPiX9WnZIFMnKejMzP0uBdeYe4a1o-KDAMI5tyM_/s1600/sunflower+tote.jpg" height="640" width="506" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes,
at $20, they aren't that cheap. But this is a real bag which will
carry your groceries for years to come. Do we really want it to come
cheaper? These bags honor the real work it takes to handcraft them in
one of the most war torn regions of the world. They are beautiful,
durable, and they come with amazing stories behind them. Leave the tag
on and tell someone the story.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwZdiThO8o/VAH0_p_WF6I/AAAAAAAAEQI/OwCvMwFtKDA/s1600/feltner_shona_061910_082.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwZdiThO8o/VAH0_p_WF6I/AAAAAAAAEQI/OwCvMwFtKDA/s1600/feltner_shona_061910_082.jpg" height="266" width="400" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Because here is the thing.
These bags, and the stories behind them, are unforgettable. They are the
bags you will not only remember to bring with you, but you will look
forward to it. And isn't that the point? Buy a bag you will remember. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.shonacongo.com/">www.shonacongo.com</a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm57x_JLKfMlTYLHphN0wC7hSQn2T5BPQBFs_PIxH5E4Qg73Rs_wn2wg3lOIV0_Tz5fRTAneMwtOg2B4UrAp1qCbzqYtsBzD9VmbyVXr-x76zB1ErBOJwOlkEywRhyuws8zTFhmwWG6bjR/s1600/morning+mist+shopper.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm57x_JLKfMlTYLHphN0wC7hSQn2T5BPQBFs_PIxH5E4Qg73Rs_wn2wg3lOIV0_Tz5fRTAneMwtOg2B4UrAp1qCbzqYtsBzD9VmbyVXr-x76zB1ErBOJwOlkEywRhyuws8zTFhmwWG6bjR/s1600/morning+mist+shopper.jpg" height="400" width="342" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Buy something that matters today! Support the work of handicapped women in Congo.
www.shonacongo.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0