Home for the Holidays

The SHONA women need to move. Their home, as pictured below, is about to be torn down. As you see the house has blue, wooden walls, and is built against a lava rock wall on one side.

It is a humble home. But it has been their home for more than a year. And in many ways it is a proud home. 4 young disabled women in Eastern Congo have rented this home through the work of their own hands. It is hard to explain exactly how amazing this is. Young women rarely live independently in Goma, and least of all, those struggling with disabilities. The fact that the SHONA women can rent their own home, and live and work in it, is in fact quite astounding. But not only that, their home has been an open one. They have taken in younger siblings and other relatives, who needed a place to stay.

None the less, their home is being torn down. This happens again and again in Eastern Congo, where small shacks are routinely thrown up on top of piles of stone and dirt, only to be taken down as soon as there is a little more money to build a bigger building. And so poor people are pushed further and further to the outskirts of town.

For the SHONA women, that is a risk they cannot take. The outskirts of town are insecure, prone to armed robberies. The outskirts have virtually no access to running water or electricity. Moving to the edges would put at risk, both their own lives, and their work. So for the past few months the SHONA women have been looking for a new home that is both a safe place to live and a reliable place to work. They are not rich, and they are no longer so extremely poor. But in Goma there is very little in between.

Fortunately the women have found a good option. It is an apartment in the same compound where they live now. For the first time in their lives they will have running water in their own home. They will be able to go to the bathroom at night, without stumbling with their crutches, in the dark, over rocks, to get to a public outhouse. It is not a fancy apartment but it is a solid one. I know it is a good apartment, because in fact, it is the same apartment I lived in while I lived in Goma.

But the women need your help. Renting a home in Goma generally requires at least 5 months rent up front. Although the women can pay the monthly rent, they don't have the money for this kind of deposit up front. It is a lot of money, and comes at a time when many of their families are experiencing very significant struggles of their own.

So would you consider making an extra special purchase this holiday season? We've taken some of our favorite household goods and made them even more. When you purchase one of these special household items, you will not only be purchasing a beautiful handcrafted item for your home, but you will be making a donation to the SHONA women's new home. You will be sharing the gift of a warm and safe home with these amazing young women.

We also have a special section of items that the SHONA women have donated freely in order to raise money for Mapendo's sister's family, a family with 10 children, who recently lost their father, and who are also fighting to keep their home. Even in the midst of struggling themselves to raise money to move, the SHONA women have chosen to donate some of their hard work to a family who deserves a little more help. Thank you for joining hands with us!

SHONA on the big screen

Ok, maybe just on You Tube.

But this is our debut on You Tube and we need your support.

The more you visit, and tell others to visit, the higher we will show up in searches.

Vote with your feet. Come visit us on You Tube

Why do I write about happy stuff?

I got an email today from a high school teacher who is teaching a class on Africa and the Middle East. She said this...

"We have spent the last few days talking about Congo and my students have voiced over and over again how they can't believe this is the first they have heard of it, especially considering the magnitude of the situation."

The class has been reading my blog and has posted questions for me on their blog .
Check out their very interesting questions, as well as their other entries on the blog, and it will make you happy for the state of education in the US. (At least in this classroom!) I am afraid I won't be able to answer all their questions, but I am picking a few of them to answer here in the next couple days. Please feel free to add a comment and join in the discussion, whether you are a student or not. I think you will find it interesting. Here is the first one...

QUESTION ONE

"You talk about the hardest thing about living in the Congo is being white, and you also talk about how they like Americans and are friendly to you, so I'm wondering why you think that's the hardest thing? "

What I meant was that the hardest part of my experience in Congo was being white. There are certainly many, many things more difficult than my own experience there. In fact, let me start out by stating that I love Congo and have deeply enjoyed living there.

But on to the question at hand. The hardest part (or at least one of the hardest parts) of my experience in Congo was being white. And yet, as I said, people were extremely welcoming and friendly toward me. Yet still, I was always a "white person" and a foreigner, and would be greeted with those names every time I walked out the door. And of course every time we label someone, there are stereotypes that go with those labels. In this case, a white person is often assumed to be rich and willing to give out money. Are these the worst stereotypes to have? Perhaps not, but any label can begin to weigh very heavily. Many of the white people who are in Goma are often working with non-profit organizations that are there to give out aid to refugees, and so you can see how the assumption would begin that white people are rich and are there to give out stuff. But when you are living there for years and you don't have a supply of anything to give out, it gets a little frustrating to wear that label every time you walk down the street. Sometimes you just want people to see you and not your skin, and that is not always easy when you are in the minority.

The second thing that makes being a "white person" or really an American of any color, difficult is that we are rich. No matter how humbly I live, or how poor I am in America, the truth is that I still have many more resources than most Congolese people. So what do I do with that? I found it difficult to be white in Congo because of the way that I was perceived by others, but also because of the way it forced me to perceive myself as part of a larger world, which in all reality is incredibly unjust.

"and also you talked about a lot of the good things going on in the Congo and in your life, and all I have seen and heard is the bad stuff about the Congo and I'm wondering do you see it and just not want to write about it or what?"

Hmm...Do I see the bad stuff and just not write about it? Why do I write so much happy stuff? Interesting question. Once I had the reverse comment. A young Congolese man pointed out that all people ever hear about Congo is negative stuff, and that I should depict Congo in a more positive light. So I guess I try to communicate some of both. It is a rough place with many difficult issues going on. But the people really are incredible on many levels, and the amazing thing about Congo is the way that life always goes on. I remember having visitors come to Congo shortly after the war started escalating last November and they were amazed to find that there were vendors in the streets, dance music blaring from the music shops and children playing soccer. Those images don't often make it in the coverage of "war-zones", but the fact is that the people of Congo have long ago learned to continue their lives in the midst of disaster. This doesn't mean that the disaster doesn't exist, or that it isn't terrible...it is. But it does mean that what you picture when you read the news articles about "the crisis" isn't the whole picture. I have spent the last three years just living life in Congo and working with some amazing people, and I guess that is what comes out in my blog.

But the war is very real. The refugees are very real. The epidemic of rape is very real. The disorder and insecurity are very real. If you dig around my blog a bit, I think you will find some of those entries as well.

All of that said...yes, there are things I don't (and can't) write about. I am just a regular person, I am not a war correspondent or a historian. I try to write about regular life and regular people, because that is what I know, but also because I think it is an important side to the story. We need war correspondents and advocacy groups to document the scale of the crisis, but we also need to be reminded that it is real people who live in the midst of it.

Handicapped sports

I must confess that one of the most discouraging things to me about life here in Goma are the beggars. I just find it such a hopeless state of affairs. Sometimes I think of Mother Teresa, whose life and work I deeply admire, and I remind myself that she herself begged in the streets. So perhaps I am a bit too quick to judge.

But still I find it hard to stomach the begging, partly because it is so widespread. But more-so because it seems like such a denial of possibility. Often the people begging in the streets are handicapped people, offering their disability on display as a demand for compensation from people passing by. Often it is not their fault, this is the life they have been taught to live, and this is all they have been taught to expect.

But so much is possible.

The handicapped people I know are some of the strongest, most innovative people in the world.

Here is an example of exactly what is possible.

This is "Sitball", a version of handicapped volleyball. The rules are similar to volley ball, except of course that you can't stand.

The team here is composed of young men from Rwanda and Congo who have lost the use of one or both of their legs. They, with determination and humility, are changing the culture for handicapped people here. Mapendo, one of the SHONA women, is the only woman on the team. She is number 11.

So check out these young people, playing with all the determination in the world despite their handicaps, or perhaps because of them. It is not an easy game, and I am quite sure that every one of them would beat me if I were to have the courage to leave the sidelines.

What can I do about Congo?

It is a good question. And a difficult one. Congo has many extremely difficult internal issues to face, as well as regional issues. However Western powers have also contributed to some of the issues Congo faces and also hold some of the responsibility.

So what are we, average American (or European) citizens to do?

Follow the news
Congo is the victim of both media silence in many cases and media oversimplification and sensationalization. Check here for solid reports on Congo. And then read other news. I have a google news search set to Congo, and I see a lot of different articles. Read them, but read them with a critical eye and don't be afraid to ask questions. The situation is not simple and anyone who pretends it is, is probably trying to sell you an easy solution.



Support better long-term foreign policy and make it an election issue.
We are responsible for the foreign policy of our government. Whether I like it or not, I am an American everywhere I go. People can and do hold me responsible for the foreign policy of my government. It is a frightening reality, especially when I look at American foreign policy over the past decade.

Too often foreign policy only becomes an election issue in the US when we are at war. And then it is narrowly focused on one or two countries. The reality is that our foreign policies have a huge effect on the world, and yet they are often largely unknown and unwatched by the average citizen. (myself including) Bush opposed international justice systems like the ICC and signed non-extradition treaties with many countries, directly erroding the possibility of applying international standards of justice and providing safeguards to human rights in countries that do not protect their own citizens. This has a direct impact on countries like Congo, and many others, who need extrernal safeguards. Obama has yet to weigh in fully on the ICC (see this article). I hope he has plans for a better foreign policy. But ultimately it is our responsibility to put the issue on the table. The American people need to make foreign policy an election issue, and I am not just talking about Iraq or Israel, and I am not only talking about presidential elections. Our congressmen and women vote on many of these issues. We should know them, and care.
Here is one good place to look, scroll to the bottom of this page for foreign policy.


Do your research before giving
Check the finances of any organization that you plan to support. Try to support long term development programs that have a history of success in a given country. Try not to support flashy, single issue, celebrity studded campaigns. They are probably spending a lot of your money looking flashy. Find out how much of your donation will actually be spent on programs. Charity Navigator has an excellent list called top 10 best practices of savvy donors.

Consider supporting smaller local programs and initiatives
They're harder to find, but chances are that you can make a more personal connection and get individualized reports of where your money is going. A little gift goes a long way with these organization!

Buy fair trade.
But check it out first. What does this organization consider fair trade? Ask the same questions you should ask if you are donating.


Which brings me back to SHONA
We are not, by any measure, the solution to all of Eastern Congo's problems. But we are one very real way to touch the lives of some incredible people here in Congo.

Consider buying from us.

Consider having a SHONA party, where you can tell people about the larger foreign policy issues at stake here (we'll hook you up with plenty of info)
and yet also support, real grassroots change in a tangible way.
Consider donating to our education or material fund .

But most of all keep asking the question
Anyone who is earnestly asking "what can I do", and not settling for an easy answer, is already on the right path. I was amazed that when I searched for "ways to help Congo" this morning, I found a couple search results that promised "3 easy things you can do to help Congo". Easy? Whatever it is, don't choose it. Real change takes work.
It takes work to be informed about the real issues,
to advocate for better policy,
and to make good choices about how to use your money and your talents.

As Frederick Douglas said...

"If there is no struggle, there is no progress.

Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightening. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters.

This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will."

Victory

Sometimes it is the small victories that mean the most.

Yesterday Argentine (one of our craftspeople) got sick. She and Mapendo (another craftsperson) live on their own. Argentine began violently throwing up and was unable to stand or dress herself. Mapendo dressed her, went out in search of a motorcycle taxi, half-carried her to the taxi and brought her to the hospital. Remember these are two significantly handicapped young women, who struggle to walk with crutches on the best of days.

Hopitals here are family endeavor. In the hopstial there are doctors and nurses to conduct examinations, administer shots, and perform surgeries. They are not there to clean up after you, take you to the bathroom or bathe you. You, as a patient, must bring your own person to take care of you. Your person is expected to sleep at the hospital with you, usually sharing a bed or sleeping on the floor. This person is almost always a member of your family. Likewise there is no food at the hospital. Everyone must bring their own. THis means that the portion of the family that did not accompany you to the hospital will remain at home and cook for you. Daily they will send pots of food to your bed at the hospital. And they will be sure to send enough food not just for you, but for the famiy members taking care of you.

Argentine has no family in Goma except a younger brother whose school fees she is paying.

Yesterday I did not go to the hospital to see Argentine. After being assured that she was getting better I decided to wait, partly because I had too many other things to do. But partly because I wanted to see how Argentine and Mapendo would do on their own.

I arrived today to discover Argentine doing better and a large plate of beans and rice on the table nearby. Roy's wife (roy is another craftsperson) had brought them food and was keeping them company. And all was well.

So let me put it this way. A young handicapped woman is expected to be dependent on her family even when she is not sick. Everyone in Congo is expected to be dependent on their family when they are sick. Argentine has no family here in Goma to take care of her. Mapendo is talented at sewing, but she is young and often unsure of herself. Yet on her own Mapendo dressed Argentine, cleaned up after her, decided to take her to the hospital, and admitted her to the hospital. On her own, Roy's wife (who is neither family nor tribe) decided to bring them food. On their own, the craftspeople of SHONA have taken care of eachother beautifully. And I did absolutely nothing.

Not only that, but Argentine and Mapendo have both been saving money for healthcare emergencies. They will be able to pay her hospital bill themselves.

After three years here in Congo, these are the victories I am most proud of. The ones where I did nothing.

To you this looks like a man sewing...

To me this looks like hope.

If only you knew that this man owns his own sewing machine for the first time in his life. And that he has been given the money to rent a small workspace, and table and chair to go with it. If only you knew how many children this man has, the struggles they have been through, and the conditions they live in.


If only you knew how very good at sewing he is, and how much he can do with this small machine.

I recently added a donations page to our website. I posted it with some serious misgivings. SHONA is about what we can accomplish through the work of our own hands, not about asking for donations. But I had received several requests from generous souls who wanted to know how they could give to us, and I realized that we cannot do it all ourselves.

That is a hard realization for me. I am an only child, a bit hard-headed and accustomed to thinking that I could rule the world on my own. I will do something and fail fifty times before I will ask for help. I'm sure my husband will be happy to confirm that for you! I think he considers one of the most telling examples of my personality to be the way I played a video game with him when we were in college. It was a video game that I knew nothing about, not being a video-game fan myself and I can no longer even remember the name of it. But somehow he talked me into playing it. (Obviously this must have been before we were married!) The first step seemed to involve running and leaping at just the right time to avoid being run over by a boulder that is coming right toward you.
I made a sprint for it and got run over,
tried again, got run over,
tried again, got run over...
I think after about the fiftieth time of watching me run head-long into the boulder without once requesting any advice on how to get around it, my future husband concluded that I might be a difficult woman. Fortunately he married me anyway!

But the point is, I like to do it myself. Even if it means getting run over in the process.

Perhaps it is an American thing. I am all about the work of our own hands. Especially in a culture like Congo that has become heavily dependent on foreign aid, I feel it is important to "empower" people to create their own miracles. You know "teach them to fish".

But I have been thinking a lot lately about how nothing we do ever is truly the work of our own hands. It is the work of a thousand hands that have helped us on our way and shaped us into who we are.

Certainly that is true for myself. Sometimes people ask how I can do "this". I am not like my husband, who grew up out here. He is used to moving around and being a stranger in a foreign land. I grew up in a small town in Connecticut, in one house, and in one school. But it is precisely because my family is so rooted that I feel able to be here. It is because they are at home, that I can be away. Home is still there waiting for me, strengthening me. Without their hands, I couldn't do it.

So I posted the donations page, in recognition that we can't do it by ourselves. The Craftspeople of SHONA have done an incredible amount through their own hands, but they have also received your help, in a thousand ways. As soon as I put up our donations page, I was honored and humbled by a donor who gave Roy a sewing machine, a table, chair and workspace. But she didn't want me to tell Roy anything about her, only that this was a gift from God, not from herself or her family.

And so perhaps nothing is truly our own. Not the work we do, nor the gifts that we give. The clothing that Roy is sewing will bear labels with his name as the craftsperson. But if we were to be truthful, the label would need to be much larger, to carry the names of all those who have brought us this far.

Stay tuned for an update to our website soon with pictures of Roy and his family, and the story of their lives. Perhaps you read my earlier posts about Roy's little girl being molested.

At the time I recall being disgusted at what one person can do TO another.

Today I am amazed at what one person can do FOR another.

Perhaps in the end, this is why God chooses to work through human hands. It is a way of redeeming our hands. In a world where we are too often forced to confront the suffering that is caused by human hands, it is a way of reminding us of the good that is possible.



Thank you to all our loyal friends and customers who continue to inspire us.

Islands of achievement

Last week was not good.

Nothing was working. Well, except the SHONA craftspeople, they were working fine.

But that is only half the battle. The other half requires selling what they have made.

We recently opened our own online store, which was exciting, and ever since then I have been wading through information trying to figure out how to attract traffic to our website and to our store. This seems to involve completing a million tasks which may or may not ever bear fruit. I spent days registering with search engines, writing metatags, joining forums, and trying to figure out how to get people to link to our website. And I may never know if it made any difference. You just have to throw it out there and hope for the best.

Meanwhile, the electricity kept disappearing. And when the electricity was on, my internet connection kept disappearing. And I kept asking myself who in their right mind tries to run an online business in a place with unreliable electricity and internet speeds that the US hasn't seen for at least ten years.

So I felt a bit isolated.

But today I received an email from a woman who wrote to inform me of her research on "islands of achievement"...and that phrase really resonated with me. Perhaps not the achievement part, but the island part. While working on her Master's Degree, she researched “islands of achievement within failed or fragile states” and she realized that there were a lot of local people around the world rebuilding their lives and their communities in the midst of larger chaos and conflict. After she finished her masters degree she was struck by the fact that many people haven't had the chance to hear these stories, and she started a website to bring people together and tell these stories. She was writing me to inform me that she had just written an article about the SHONA women and it is posted on their website, along with over 400 other stories.

We are an island of achievement! Visit her website, not because we are there (although that is good also) but because it is a fascinating place to see what regular people are doing throughout the world.

Their article on SHONA

The main page of the website: http://hopebuilding.pbwiki.com

And then she informed me that she had compiled her article from an article about us on
ITnews africa.com. We are on the front page of their website right now!. And we didn’t even know it! I guess something I did last week worked after all. Check it out!

www.itnewsafrica.com

I deeply appreciate the willingness of both these website to seek us out and share our story. I appreciate the chance for SHONA to be “seen” by others. I would like to believe that I am humble, but I have to admit that it is really hard to work on something day after day and feel invisible. And I do start to feel like an island.

But what I found most inspiring was the opportunity to visit the beautiful "hopebuilding" website and read the stories of so many others. Because if we are all doing it, then we aren’t really isolated after all. And that is the gift of this website…check it out!

Empowerment

Empowerment is an unweildy thing.
What empowers you?
What is it in your background, your education, your faith, your culture, that empowers you?

Think about it...it really is a difficult question.

Perhaps in order to see yourself clearly you have to stand in someone else's shoes.

I certainly would never have considered myself a particularly "empowered" person.

But the fact is that I am. When someone mistreats me I am surprised. And indignant. When I face a new task, something I've never done before, I generally give it a try. Yeah, I might screw it up, but I might succeed. Who knows? When I talk to someone, I assume they will listen. Maybe not agree, but listen at least. I assume I can go somewhere new, do something else, or try again on something I've failed before.

But what if you never learned to do those things? In Congo, handicapped women are pretty much on the bottom of the totem pole. They are never seen as adults, because to be an adult woman means to be married and bear children. And handicapped women are unlikely to have the opportunity to marry. But to be a child forever?

So when I see the ladies that I work with, as they struggle for independence, I see the many ways that my life has empowered me. And I wonder what it is like to be treated badly, and not stand up and shout. To not expect more. Of the world...or myself.

And so the SHONA ladies and I, struggle towards the goal of empowerment. And I wish I had some magic formula. I wish empowerment could be handed around on a silver platter. But it is hard work, as it is supposed to be. And they tackle it with both hands. Last month we started an adult education program. The SHONA ladies are currently taking math, French, and a course in "Faith and Action" (studying the lives of people around the world who have demonstrated faith through their actions). As a teacher I don't think I've ever seen more motivated students, and I guess that is the point. That is where empowerment begins.

A new year in the air

This year I celebrated the start of a new year suspended in air. I guess that explains the cheap price of my plane ticket. I got an amazingly good deal by scheduling my return flight to Africa over New Years. Apparently other people don't like to do this: To start the New Year with a group of strangers, in an airplane cabin, the most of impersonal places...a place where you can lose all touch with reality. A place, where everyone tries desparately to pretend they are somewhere else...anywhere else. Much like a doctor's waiting room.

Or perhaps it is the ungrounded nature of the whole endevor. How can you say you started the new year in the air... Somewhere between Amsterdam and Nairobi? They didn't even tell us where we were when the clock struck twelve. They did announce the arrival of the new year over the intercom. There was a polite round of applause in the airplane much like the half-hearted clapping at the end of the movie. In a movie theater the applause always seems a little strange. It is like at a real theater, but there is no one on the stage, the screen's gone black...who are we applauding? But at a loss for what else to do, we applaud. And so, the passengers on our flight politely applauded, as darkness passed by the miniature windows, and we strained to look down and determine where exactly we were beginning this new year.

I kind of liked it. Well, let me clarify, I hate flying. On a flight I live in perpetual tension, waiting for the bump that signals the beginning of the end. I can't sleep, I can't read, my movie screen is invariably broken. And if they haven't fixed their movie screens, imagine the other parts of this plane that they haven't fixed! The beginning of the end...

So somehow, I enjoyed my flight over new years. Perhaps it was because it was towards the end of my journey, hope was beginning to dawn again. But there seemed something poetic about it. Talk about perspective. Perhaps this year I can start the new year with a correct view of the world. One in which I am very small, and the world seems to function perfectly fine without me. One in which you fly into the morning and the world is spread before you, covered in gentle pinks and blue. One in which the world looks peaceful.

And then you land. You know that thud when the wheels hit ground, and the sudden squeal of brakes and whooshing of flaps? That is always my favorite part of the flight. Even though it is probably more dangerous than all that time when we are soundlessly flying through the night and I was holding my breath. This is the time when the brakes might fail, when some obstacle might be on our runway, when we might find ourselves landing in the wrong place or swerving off the carefully prepared runway. But I love to hear all that noise, the groundedness of it. In the end, what freaks me out on airplanes is the surreal nature of it all. It just isn't normal. The plane is too quiet, we seem to be flying through space with no effort at all. This just isn't possible. Life is loud, and unwieldy, and I never make any progress at all that isn't full of bumps and jolts and chances to swerve off course.

So it was a nice way to start the New Year, with the gentle quiet of perspective, and the world spread out below me. But as for me, I've landed now. And I can definitely hear the squealing of brakes, the whooshing of flaps and all the chaos that this world entails. But still it is good to be on the ground.