To Stay or To Go

To stay or to go?

This is a conversation that the SHONA ladies have been having since the rebels seized Goma a few weeks ago.  After all, what do you do, when fighting arrives at your doorstep?  Do you hunker down, or do you try to get out?  And if you leave, where do you go?  How do you get there (especially if you are disabled) and what do you do with all the relatives and children who have sought shelter in your home, because they've already had to flee their own homes?

I remember being told about the volcanic eruption in Goma in 2002.  The nearby volcano erupted and spewed lava onto a huge portion of the town.

  Even then, there were people who  didn't leave.  Afraid that they would lose everything they owned, or perhaps too sick to run.  Or maybe with too many children to carry.  There were a lot of people who barely fled in time.  And by the same token, the population flocked back to Goma, long before the experts declared it safe.  People headed back to Goma while the lava was still hot on the ground.  Or so I've been told.  That image has always stuck in my head, of rushing back into the inferno.

Because it is home.
Because if you don't someone will probably loot your home of all that you have.
Because to be a refugee is to suffer.  And to be a refugee in a place where you are not welcomed, is to suffer even more.

When the rebels attacked Goma, the ladies stayed for a night and listened to the explosions overhead.  The next day, they decided to leave but had to split up because there was no other way to get out.  One of the unspoken tragedies of war is the way it separate loved ones.

For the ladies, they were fortunate to reunite along the way.  And they were fortunate to have the resources from their work with SHONA, to pay for truck rides and motorcycle taxis and any other way they could find to flee. Otherwise, with their disabilities, it would have been impossible.

And eventually, miraculously, they made it to Bukavu.  That is roughly 130 miles, on roads that would not qualify even as dirt roads in this part of the world.  Along the way strangers welcomed them into their homes.

In Bukavu, the hotels were expensive, and the city on a hill during rainy season, was virtually impossible for them to navigate.  Seeking safer ground, they tried to cross the border into the neighboring country, but with 5 disabled people, 3 babies, 5 children, and 2 teenagers they were turned away.  We looked too much like refugees, they said.

So they fled, back to their homes in Goma.  If we are going to suffer, we might as well suffer at home, they said. 

Again, miraculously, they made it safely through an overnight bus ride through an incredibly volatile area.

And they returned to Goma, to find all the food and water in their homes gone, the markets closed and the nights filled with shooting.  The rebels had pulled out of Goma by this point, but the shooting had not stopped.  And it still hasn't.

The shooting is not war...exactly.  It is another of those unspoken tragedies of war.  Goma always has a bit of a "wild west" feel, especially on the edge of town where the ladies live, and where refugee camps are located.  But the seizure of Goma, and the following withdrawal, has left the town spinning out of control.  The night is full of shooting because bandits are arriving at people's homes.  Shooting their way into these tiny wooden homes, with nothing but a small lock on the door, to demand whatever they can.  Who are these bandits?  That is precisely the problem.  Who knows?  Perhaps they are connected to the war, or perhaps they are the young men who live down the street.  As long as there is confusion, there is impunity. 

So the people of Goma take justice into their own hands.  Yesterday when I talked to one of the ladies, she reported that her neighborhood had risen up against a group of thieves.  They caught one of the thieves, threw rocks, beat and killed him.

So do you stay or do you go?  The ladies have tried both at this point, and I can't say that either one has worked out very well.  For now they are back in Goma, but with this question constantly replaying in their minds.  At least when the volcano erupted, it was easy to tell when the lava was cool and firm.  But as for peace in Goma, nothing is ever really cool or firm.

In this holiday season, I can't help but be especially struck by the Christmas story.   I am especially struck because I learned just the other day that Argentine is pregnant.  With her tiny body, and a little one growing inside, I really cannot imagine how she made that trip to Bukavu and back.  But she did.  And there were strangers who welcomed her, and pushed her "wheelchair bicycle" and helped her along the way.  And so have all of you, through your thoughts and prayers, and through your support of SHONA.

This year, in the midst of all the twinkling lights, cheery songs, and colorful packages, my eye keeps seeking out that manger scene.  There is something truthful in it. It is more sobering for sure, but also somehow more miraculous.  And that gives me hope.

Please keep the people of Eastern Congo in your prayers this holiday season.

Argentine, Mapendo, Solange and Riziki, never cease to remind that beauty and hope shine most brightly in the most difficult of places.  I got a new shipment of their stock last week and I was floored by the beauty.  You can find their handcrafted work at www.shonacongostore.com

    

Insecurity

One of the hard parts of life in Congo is the "insecurity".

We use this term often to talk about the sense that Congo somewhat teeters on the edge of violence. Fighting could always break out, armed robbers could always show up at night.

But the insecurity amounts to more than that.

We have a friend who is a poor farmer, in a rural region. He owns a small piece of land next to a big piece of land owned by an important person. And so he stands always on the brink of losing his small plot of land, his only livelihood.

Last week, people came onto his land and began taking his crops. He complained. And so he was put in jail for a week. He just didn't have friends on the right side, and someone else did.

His extremely poor family then spent the week buying the guards beers and handing off cash trying to get this elderly man moved to a less harsh prison.

Eventually they borrowed enough money to pay the system off, and get him out of prison. What will happen with his land is unclear.

And this is precisely the insecurity with which many Congolese live everyday. That which they have can always be taken away.

In the grand scheme of things, all that anyone has can disappear in an instant. None of us are guaranteed tomorrow. All of our lives are in fact, teetering on the edge.

But here in the US, we live with the illusion of security. And with some sense that only God, or a huge natural disaster or some other force beyond our control, can rip out of our hands that which we believe is ours.

It is a different type of insecurity to know that the people living next to you can do the same.

Part II:Conflict Minerals in Congo

This is a continuation of my previous post. Please check it out here.

So what is it that bothers me about the lobby against "conflict minerals in Congo"?

I think it is the specificity of the argument.

By making the argument so specific, we are lying to ourselves about complex realities both in Congo and in our own backyard.

Myth #1:Congo Conflict=Mineral Trade

Enough Project claims...
Our demand for cell phones, laptops and other electronics is ravaging the Democratic Republic of the Congo...the battle for resources has left over 5 million dead...We, as consumers of products made from Congo's "conflict minerals," hold the key to the solution."

The conflict in Congo can not be boiled down to a battle for resources. The situation is far more complex than that.

The Enough project knows better than this. In other places they are more careful to state that the conflict minerals trade is one of many factors fueling the conflict.

But that is precisely the point. They know that the situation is far more complex. But that doesn't make a good advocacy campaign. Mobilizing support and outrage here, requires a simple villain. And a solution that we can control. So there it is... let's call them “conflict minerals”...or perhaps “blood phones” (hat tip to Lynn).

By doing this we lie to ourselves about the complexity of the situation in Congo, and about the types of changes that are needed to create real peace in Congo, and unfortunately we make the quest for peace far easier than it actually is. Besides which, even if controlling the mineral trade was a concrete solution to the conflict, this US legislation is unlikely to get us there. It relies on the idea that there can be meaningful verification, documentation and monitoring of mineral resources within Congo. This assumes the existence of structures that simply don't exist in Eastern Congo at this time. You have to build the structures first, or the paperwork is meaningless in Congo.

That is not to say that the legislation isn't important.

Legislation here in the US, requiring companies to be more transparent about and responsible for their supply chains is important and , and so is pressure for companies to produce and trade more ethically . But by limiting the problem to “conflict minerals” we make the argument so specific as to pretend that the larger problem doesn't exist. The supply chain problem isn't a Congo problem, and we aren't the heroes rushing in to save the day. Our corporate systems, our regulation systems, the types of products that make it to our shelves, and the amount of information we have about those products is deeply broken. By reacting in horror to the unjust, exploitative and irresponsible ways in which minerals are sourced, somewhere in the back of our heads, we assure ourselves that the rest of the stuff we buy doesn't have the same problem. This leads us to...

myth #2: The problem is limited to minerals.

But I'll be back next time to talk about that.