Loss and Hope

Solange

The child was named Asante. What a beautiful name. In Swahili it means "thanks".

Unfortunately this was the child that I mentioned earlier. The child of Solange's sister. Solange has only 1 sister and 1 brother. Although she is only 20 herself, Solange is the eldest in her family. Her parents died years ago and her younger siblings have had a hard time of it. For a while they were living in a refugee camp. During which time, Solange's sister had a little boy and named him "Asante".

Eventually they moved back to their family home, in an area that has been all but deserted because of ongoing fighting. That is where they were living, way out in the bush, and in the midst of insecurity, when Asante became sick. Medicine didn't seem to help. They had no money. They took him to a "kishenzi" doctor. That is a "traditional doctor" or an "herbal doctor".

I am sure there is a place for this type of medicine, but I also know that these are often the doctors of last resort.

When there isn't a hospital nearby... when no one knows what is wrong with you... when you think someone is poisoning you... or when you just don't have much money...

you go to these "doctors".

You get the idea.

The Kishenzi doctor gave Asante some form of treatment. But he died. And now the family owes $50 to the doctor anyway.

But what other options did they have? Doing anything feels better than doing nothing.

When Asante died, Solange was summoned by her sister and brother before she had a chance to get a hold of me.

She had no money in her back account because all her savings went into the small plot of land that she bought 6 months ago. She is still waiting to save more money to build a house on that plot of land, so her brother and sister can live there in safety.

She planned for Asante to live there too. But he didn't quite make it.

Solange went back to her rural home, full of shame, because in Congo it was surely her duty to contribute to the cost of a funeral for this little child. And yet she had nothing, but the promise of some land she bought for the future. They couldn't bury Asante for 2 days (a long time in Congo) because no one had the money for even the simplest of burials.

I can't think of a more clear example of what it is like to live in Congo. There is an endless, unimaginable balancing...where somehow you have plan for a future when the present is barely hanging on by a string.

Do you save money to buy the land and build a little house, so that a year from now your family can live in safety? But what happens in the meantime?

Or do you cover the emergencies that arise each month, shelling out month after month, but building nothing for the future. The tyranny of the urgent, leaving you just as destitute next year as you were the last.

It is a balancing act. Solange has now paid for the medical debt to that kishenzi doctor. And she remains with the promise of a small plot of land. If only she can find the money to build upon it, her brother and sister could have a safer place to live. It may seem a small consolation to the loss of a child, but it is also the best way to avert the next disaster, before it happens.

A tiny house in Goma, can mean a lot. It means better security, and better health care, and it means hope to continue forward. It is SHONA sales that bought that land and it is continuing SHONA sales that will allow Solange to build upon it one day.

I wish for all the world that Asante had a different life, the opportunities he surely deserved.

But I remain forever impressed by the strength of those who face these losses, often too many to count, and still believe that a different future is possible.

Please buy SHONA products and reward that hope. For Solange and her family your purchases really do make all the difference in the world.

Tragedy and Community

The message went like this...
"Shemeki wa Mapendo alikufa bila kugonjwa. Tuombeye."

Translated, that is
"Mapendo's brother-in-law died without being sick. Pray for us."

I promised the SHONA ladies that I would pass along to you this request for prayer. So there it is.

Here is the backstory...
Mapendo's brother-in-law died suddenly. He had not been very sick, although he also had not been feeling particularly well as of late. He went into the bedroom to lie down, and when family came in later, he was dead.

He leaves behind his wife (Mapendo's sister) and 10 children (8 of their own and 2 orphans they care for). The oldest child is 20 years old and the youngest is a year and a half old. This is a huge responsibility for Mapendo's sister to bear.

Inevitably, this responsibility will come down not only on Mapendo's sister but on Mapendo as well. One of the children was already living with the SHONA ladies. You may remember that she came to help the ladies around the house. Their sewing has paid for her to go back to school.
Mapendo's sister will struggle to provide for these children. And in one of the great injustices of life in Congo, she will also face attempts to take away her home, or anything else that she might have. When the Bible talks about fighting for the rights of widows, I never really took it literally. I didn't realize precisely how vicitmized widows can be in cultures, even today. But in every death that I have seen in Congo, the widow has faced an onslaught of pressure and the fear of losing the little that she has.

In addition to all of this, this idea of "dying without being sick" has a particular undertone to it. When people die of no clear cause in Congo, they are often assumed to have been poisoned by someone. This is a particular tragedy in Congo, where healthcare is extremely low, and the ability to actually diagnose illnesses is very limited. While there are real incidents of poisoning in Congo (and around the world) there are also many, many incidents where people just die. When you have no medical equipment to diagnose problems, and no investigative police to diagnose crime, the two are often confused. In a world where tragedy hits so often, we grab onto any explanation we can. And unfortunately, the poisoning explanation is often the most readily available. It may be hard to prove, but it is also hard to disprove.

Congo can be a hard place, full of inexplicable tragedy, and uncertain fear.

But it can also be a place of beauty. Where a community comes together to carry burdens. The SHONA ladies have been sleeping at Mapendo's sister's house for days now. Mourning with them. They heard of the tragedy, put down their sewing materials, and went. This is a common Congolese response.

You notice that in their message they say "pray for us." This is not a selfish "us", as though they are the ones who need prayer. It is an inclusive "us", a recognition of their place in a community, a community whose responsibility it is to now carry this family, and bear their burden together.

I rarely say "pray for us". In good American fashion I say "pray for them". As though a person's loss or struggle is somehow separate from my own. I should practice saying "tuombeye"("pray for us"). Perhaps it will serve as a reminder to myself that, in reality, we are all in this life together.

Sharing our burdens and our joys.

A house built on faith

This is Roy's house. A couple weeks ago he had to pick it up. And by that I mean...actually pick it up and carry it somewhere else. His family was forced to leave the land they were living upon. They had to take apart their home and carry it to a new location.

When we talk about insecurity in Goma, we think about war and armed robbery and the general chaos which can overtake the region.

We don't necessarily think about picking up houses.

But this too is part of the insecurity of life in Goma. The vast majority of people in Goma live in this type of perpetual non-permanence. This awareness that at virtually anytime, you may be told to move. Even if that means picking up your house.

Roy built this house about a year and a half ago, on top of this pile of lava rock. He paid about $10 a month to rent the land on which he built his house. That worked out for a while, until the owner of the land decided he wanted to take back the land and build on it himself. And so Roy's family had to move. As in, they had to move the house. So they looked for another piece of land to rent, they dismantled the house, and carried it on their backs to the next location.

So now they are living in the same house, on different land. And you can imagine how long it will last this time. If they are luck another year? People in Goma get used to picking up and moving a lot.

True, there is nothing that shocking about the transitory nature of life in Goma. Goma is a city, largely composed of people who have fled there, from the surrounding areas. It is full of people who have had to pack up and leave, again and again. The city itself has been overtaken by soldiers, rebels, and lava at varying points in the last ten years. In Goma, one most always stand a bit poised on the edge of departure.

What I find most striking is that Roy built the house in the first place. He could have rented a a similar house. But he chose to build a house on land that he did not own. Of course options were limited. If he could afford to buy land, he surely would have.

But think about it for a minute. Imagine renting a plot of land and building your own house. With your materials, your own money, the sweat from your brow.

No one does that in America, because who would take that risk? We build on land that we own, or we rent a house on land that we don't. No one goes through the work of building a house if they can't own the land.

It gives me pause.

Roy knew that building on borrowed land was a risk. But what in Goma isn't a risk? Actually it was more like guaranteed non-permanence. You build knowing that in the not-so-distant-future you will have to take it down again. Or maybe the volcano will erupt again before that happens, and cover your house with lava. Or maybe the war will explode and you will be forced to leave your home and flee. You see, when everything is a risk, it almost becomes beside the point to try and calculate risk at all. What's built today, what stands today, is really all that you have the energy to think about it.

So Roy, picked up his house and moved it to a new plot of land. Let me not understate this. By no means was this an easy process for his family. Yet he will probably face it again next year, and the year after...

It is a living example of the insecurity of Goma. The poor move again and again, as landowners try and turn a profit on their land. Community breaks down when a population is constantly being forced to move from one place to another.

But it is also an example of the extraordinary sense of hope and determination in Goma. Even if you are simply too poor to buy any land, you'll start by buying the materials to build. What greater evidence of hope is there? Maybe you will own a roof and walls, long before you ever own a place to rest them upon. But in that there is a determination to believe in a better future.

In Goma, where the ground is constantly shifting, you learn to build your home on moving ground. It's not blind faith that the ground will stop moving. It's the knowledge that that it never does. And the determination not to lose hope in the midst of it. I suppose, in the end, that is the type of faith we are all called to.

"What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway."
Mother Teresa

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

~ Hebrews Chapter 11 Verse 1

The tin shacks of GOma

This is Roy's house. As you can see it is literally surrounded by lava rock. The outside walls are made of old tin sheeting, and the inside walls are made of plastic sheeting in most places, and ripped up cardboard boxes in some places.

The lava rock has been more or less cleared from inside the house, leaving a dirt floor, with occassional rocks jutting out. There is no electricity and no water. The "jerry can" containers in the forground of this picture are used for carrying water to the house, a job done mostly by the girls in the family.

The house is divided into two rooms. The "living room" is shown in the picture above. The second room is a bedroom, the same size as the living room, where Roy and his wife sleep with eight children. They own one single mattress.

I show you these pictures not to make you feel bad for Roy. Everything is about context. Roy's family recently moved into this house. For them, it is a step in the right direction. Their last house didn't have enough tin to cover the walls or the roof, and it was in a worse location.

I show you these pictures to give you an idea of what life looks like in Goma. The average person in Goma lives in conditions similar to Roy's.

And yet there are whole neighborhoods that look like this. There are places where the skyline is full of the sloping roofs of these "McMansions".

If something burns me out in Goma, it will probably be this. It is this daily encounter with human nature. The ability of man to build a mansion next to a shack. Morever the ability of man to surround his mansion with a wall, buy a large water tank and hefty generator, and never have to deal with the reality that there are no public services in Goma.

Where does the idea of public services come from? The idea that there are some roles that government should fill, and some needs that are so basic, they must be addressed. In the US we are often afraid of "Big Government". I know that these days people are thinking heavily about Obama's big spending, and about the level of debt we will incur. And we should think carefully about such issues. I also know that the proposal to spend billions of dollars is motivated by a concern for the economy rather than a concern for public services. But everytime I hear about that money I can't help dreaming about all the railroads that could be built, bridges that could be repaired, libraries that could be stocked, parks that could be maintained and the like.

I can tell you that there is not a single park in Goma. Nor a single waste removal company, nor a single sidewalk. I would like to believe that it is in human nature to come together and try and make the place we live better, even if there is no government to do it. I would like to believe in a commitment to the public good. But I can tell you, that it is much easier to build a wall and fix up your own compound. And, when left to our own devices, I'm afraid that is what we tend to do. There are an awful lot of walls in Goma. In fact if you look carefully at that picture of the McMansions you will see the very same lava rock that covered the land outside of Roy's house. In this case, someone has taken the time to pick up all those lava rocks. They are using them to build row after row of walls.

A father's nightmare?

Introducing Roy…

Roy is a handicapped, middle aged man with a wife and seven children. His oldest child is nine years old. He owns no land and no house. For the past 5 years he has lived with his family in a two room shack constructed of plastic sheeting and cardboard, and literally built on top of lava rock. He does not own or rent the small plot of land where he built his shack, but rather was offered by a friend to live there temporarily while he saved money to rent his own land. That day never came. And soon the friend began demanding that Roy find somewhere else to live.

It isn’t that Roy doesn’t work. In fact he is talented at sewing. He is the man that taught the SHONA ladies much of what they know. And he goes to work in a sewing group every day. It is just that there is no money in that group. A corrupt manager, stole $5000 from the group, vitually all of the profit from a huge order that the group has been working on for the past year. So there was plenty of work, just no pay.

This past week, Roy’s wife became seriously ill and was hospitalized at a clinic, and then transferred to a larger hospital. And this man who hasn’t received a salary for months was faced with the question of how to pay the hospital fees. Then his youngest child also became sick and was taken to the hospital. As he cared for his wife and baby at the hospital, his other children remained at home. The oldest child went to school, leaving a seven year old girl to care for her younger siblings. Perhaps this was not the wisest thing to do. I have conversations with people on a regular basis trying to convince them not to leave young children home alone. But in a world where existence is so hand to mouth, young children are regularly left to fend for themselves as parents and older children go off in search off work and food and water. And in the midst of an emergency, two family members hospitalized, it is not surprising that these young children found themselves alone. So they were alone when an older man arrived. This was a man that the children knew, they were taught to call him “grandfather”. He was often a visitor to their house. But this day, he came in the house and sexually molested the seven year old girl. Seven years old.

I read the letter that this man wrote, confessing to having molested this young girl. He offered to pay the family a goat to get rid of the bad luck which his action might bring. A goat.

How do you protect small seven year old girls from a world like this? Following the thread back is long and complicated. Why was her mother sick in the first place? Why wasn’t this little girl in school? Why couldn’t they afford someone to look after the children? Why did this man believe he could pay for his sins with a goat?

I am happy to report that Roy did not accept the offer of a goat, but rather is determined to see justice done and this man put in jail. He has reported the incident to the police, testified in a hearing and taken his daughter to a rape clinic. But how many families with no income and no food to eat close their eyes and accept the goat?

Surely the protection of this little girl begins with the protection of her family. Perhaps her father was able to refuse the goat because I have given him some additional sewing work and advanced him the money for his work. He has paid the hospital fees for his family, bought the medicine they need and they will eat dinner tonight.

And if he had work, paying work, everyday, what else might this father be able to offer his family? Children are so vulnerable here because parents are so vulnerable. They have so few choices. And so many responsibilities.

So I am left to ponder how we at SHONA could offer this family the stability they need. Stay tuned for our solution for one family, and one little girl.

A woman I admire

A woman I admire died this week. It is a great loss. She was a scholar who was determined to document the truth even when it was not popular. She believed that justice must be applied to all sides in a conflict. And she spoke up when it would have been easier to remain silent.

This morning I spoke to the mother of a boy whose school fees we have paid for the past two years. When I met him, he was 9 years old and had been to school for a total of 3 months in his life. I taught him to read and write and then put him in school. I held his hand when he started school, had him do his homework at my house. And he was doing ok.

Except that in the past month he fell apart. He stole two phones from our house. One of the phones had over $200 worth of credit on it, although he didn’t know that at the time. That money could have paid for his school fees until high school graduation.

And he lied, and he started skipping school, and he falsified his grades…

I required this boy to tell his mother what he had done. I’m not sure what result I expected, but I know I didn’t get it. She took the news in stride, appearing only mildly interested. She did not demand explanations. She was not enraged. She really didn’t have much to say to her child, this 11 year-old boy who has just destroyed his only chance of going to school.

This corner of the world is known for being loud and chaotic. But there is another side to the culture that fosters silence. Silence in place of “calling someone out”. The people who do wrong, the people who steal, the people who lie and even the people who kill are not often held to account. News of theft and corruption, even when it is personal, is often met with a shake of a head rather than indignation. Sometimes this is because those who do wrong hold power, but it goes beyond that. There appears to be little to say, even to the child who has so thoroughly lost his way. A common response is “nifanye nini?” What can I do?

Perhaps to speak requires believing; believing that change is possible. That a better world exists. Whether you are documenting the atrocities of war or the mistakes of a child, to speak the truth you must believe that a better world, or a better person, could exist. Indeed, refusing to fall silent in the face of wrong may be the ultimate act of hope.

And perhaps this is why it grieves me so much. To see a parent who has lost the will to demand better of her child, and a world that has lost the will to demand better of those in power. It is the loss of hope.

The woman who died this week, spent her life documenting the horrors that we inflict on eachother. She counted and recorded atrocities. She must have been a woman of great hope. To regard with open eyes the depths to which we fall, and demand that we remember the people we could be, the people we should be.

This corner of the world is loud and full of noise, but at the same time, I have begun to realize that it is way too quiet here.

Choices

The Shona ladies have decided to rent a small house across the border in Rwanda for three months. Security continues to be a significant concern here in Goma, and they have the good fortune of work that they can pack up and take with them. The house in Rwanda will be only a couple miles from their current home in Congo, but the border provides significant security.

They will have to cover the cost of an extra rent payment, while they continue to pay their monthly rent in Goma (they have a year long lease). This has been a hard decision for them to make, since the extra cost is signficant, but in the end they have concluded that you can replace money and you cannot replace people.

My husband and I will remain in Goma. Our apartment has much greater security than their little house, so we feel ok. We also have the benefit of a car if we need it, to make a quick departure.

Life in Goma seems to require weighing odds that you should never have to weigh. Some residents of Goma have fled to Rwanda or to Kinshasa or other more secure places. However the vast majority have stayed behind. For those who have chosen to make their life in Goma, who are tied to Goma, it is almost impossible to leave. Homes are crowded with relatives of all sorts who have fled other areas. How do you flee with all of them? How do you leave them behind?

I recall hearing that after the volcano errupted in 2002, people were very quick to return home, often walking on hot lava to reach their homes. They returned quickly, despite continuing danger, out of fear that the town would be looted and all their belongings would be gone if they did not return.

It is easy to say that your possessions are not worth risking your life. And health is more important than wealth. But for people living on the edge of poverty, the two are not very far apart. It only takes a glance at the situation in the refugee camps to understand the problem. People are sleeping out in the open or under tarps. With no door to lock, how do you stop drunken soldiers from doing as they please? I read the other day about a child who was killed as she slept by a stray bullet. With no wall to hid behind, no bed to hide under...the vulnerable only become more vulnerable. A home, no matter how humble, provides some sense of security.

So the women of Shona have made an unusual choice in the scheme of things. They have chosen to move to a more secure area. This perhaps demonstates their sense of vulnerability. They are handicapped women living alone. But perhaps it also demonstates their widening sense of choices. For the poor, life often presents very few choices. The women of Shona are far from rich, but through their sewing they have begun to earn enough to be able sustain the added cost of creating a temporary home somewhere else.

As an American I have noticed that this is perhaps one of my greatest luxuries. I always feel that I could go somewhere else. I can make other choices. I could do other work. For many of the people of Goma there is no choice to make. They cannot afford to lose the marginal security that their homes, their possessions, and their work provide. I often struggle under the weight of choices. They are simply so hard to make. But perhaps I should also be more thankful for them.

A few updates:

Still no news of the family in Kiwanja. We continue to pray for them.

No suspects have been identified in the killing of my husband's staff member.

The refugees of Kibati have not been moved off the front lines.

The Security Council has agreed to send a little over 3000 more troops to Congo.

Over twenty men were pulled out of a UN convoy and arrested by Government soldiers who claimed that the UN was transporting Nkunda's soldiers. The UN claims they were not Nkunda's soldiers, rather Mai mai soldiers ( a rebel group that works with the government, not against them)

The UN Convoy was then attacked by stone-throwing civilians.