In Celebration

Recently stumbled upon these photos which were taken a while ago, before the SHONA ladies had to flee Congo.  They are photos from celebrations of births and weddings.  The SHONA ladies have had a lot of both in the past year.

I love these photos because they are what Congo looks like.  They are what Congo feels like.  And they are home to the SHONA ladies.

The ladies are doing well in their new country.  They are slowly getting back on their feet.  But it is never easy.  And they think often of their family and friends.  They worry for their families, many of whom are in areas that continue to be shaken by fighting.  It is hard to keep in touch, with cell phone connections that barely work at best.  And they think of all the joyful times.  Here are a few...

Arriving

Preparing Food

Bringing Drinks

 

 Argentine, with a pot of food on her head, in traditional celebration

 

Generations meet (Mapendo's son with a great grandmother)

 Hands raised in celebration! (Solange with her husband)

Stronger Together

It was around midnight when I received a text message.  It read
"banataka kutuua."
In English that is
"They want to kill us."

I had been happily selecting cloth for our spring collection.  It had felt so good to finally be getting back to normal.  The SHONA ladies had spent the last 2 months running in circles it seemed.  They fled Goma when rebels invaded the city in November.  After a few long weeks they returned home, but then 2 of the ladies chose to flee again because they still didn't feel safe.  Now finally we had 3 of the ladies home again, feeling comfortable and ready to sew.  Not only that, the 4th lady, Argentine, who had remained in Burundi, had found a good hospital, and after a very anxious month, was finally receiving good healthcare as she waited for her child to be born.  I could finally breathe.  And look at all the pretty cloth. 

And then I got that message.  The one that just falls like a stone to the pit of your stomach.  It didn't help that it was midnight.  Or that I was home alone with Baby Claire, because my husband was in Haiti on a work trip. 

The ladies had been attacked during the night by armed robbers.  The robbers went to each of their houses.  They had targeted the women because of their work, perhaps because they knew the ladies were getting ready to buy cloth.  At any rate, they were convinced there would be money around.  So they went to all 3 houses waving guns and knives.  But the worst was at one of the houses.  They broke down the door, found one of the SHONA women inside along with the children she cares for.  Frustrated when she didn't produce enough money, they put a knife to her and said they might as well go ahead and rape her.  She responded "well, you might as well kill me then."  One of the other SHONA women, who lives next door heard what was happening and started to scream.  That raised the other neighbors who also started to scream.  And the thieves ran, but not before threatening to return the following night. 

I've always hated old Western movies.  But after living in Goma, I understand them a little better.  This is what it feels like when there are no police to call, no system to rely on.  In Goma, at night, everyone stays behind locked doors.  And if you hear thieves outside, the last thing you do is go out there.  But there is a sense from the population that they have to rise up.  Every once in a while a nieghborhood bands together and mobs a group of bandits, often throwing stones and killing them.  But the rest of the nights, the bandits usually win. 

In this case, I cannot state how thankful I am that the SHONA women are safe.  For whatever reason, the shouts of neighbors were enough to scare them away. 

You know what I did after getting that message and talking to the ladies? I was restless at 1 in the morning, and sick with worry about whether we would be able to move the ladies to a safer place.

I prayed.  And I posted a small plea for thoughts and prayers on our facebook page.  This blog entry is no advertisement for Facebook, a format I alternately love and hate.  But you know what? Someone responded right away, and then someone else.  And by the next day I knew, if nothing else, these ladies were a little less alone. 

And I think of the SHONA ladies, one with a knife to her throat and another next door, hearing what is happening, and all she can do is shout.  But somehow, miraculously, that was enough. 

Sometimes I feel like that.  I feel powerless, shouting into the darkness.  But then someone grabs my hand, or my heart.  And I remember that which I have always known to be true.  We are all stronger together.

Thank you to all our SHONA friends for your love and support this past week!

I

Too close to home

The town in Connecticut where I grew up, and where my parents still live, is about 20 minutes from Newtown.

The city in Congo where I lived for 3 years, and where the SHONA ladies still live, is Goma.

Yesterday I was listening to a BBC world briefing, and I heard a broadcast  about the tragedy in Newtown, Ct.  Followed by a broadcast about the ongoing tragedy  in Goma, Congo.

Suffice it to say, there is something peculiarly horrifying to hear on the radio, 2 places that are close to my heart and yet truly worlds apart.  And now suddenly, here they are, one after the other, in almost the same horrifying breath.  Tragedy upon tragedy.
  
Newtown is a beautiful town.  A few months ago SHONA had a booth at a craft fair there.  It was an outside fall festival, and the weather was beautiful, but what struck me most that day was the way SHONA was truly welcomed in Newtown.  I met many wonderful customers there, who cared so much about the women of Congo, about what was happening so far away.

But now tragedy is all too near to that community.  And I, like everyone else, am at a loss for words.

I think of those words so often repeated "this is too close to home".   I hear them from friends I have in Connecticut, those who live in the area, those who know people directly affected.

And yet I somehow feel them too.  Newtown is too close to home.  Goma is also too close to home.

And to be honest, I think everyone is saying this about Newtown right now.  For all of us, this...this...inexplicable horror is far too close to home.  No matter where we live.

Then I think about the ongoing war in Eastern Congo, and all those who have died and those who have been forced out of their homes and who live in fear.  But I am also reminded of the countless people who I don't know, and who the SHONA ladies do not know, but who are following closely each step those women make, and praying for them daily, for peace in a city torn by war.  I have received emails from people saying how they wake each night, in the middle of the night, praying for the women.  I have received fevered phone calls from SHONA customers asking what they can do to help.

I think again of those words... "this is too close to home".

Sometimes these words are forced upon us, by physical proximity.  And sometimes they rise unbidden to our lips, no matter where the tragedy occurred. 

They are painful words, the words we utter when we let ourselves begin to feel at least for a moment the terrible violence that plagues our world.  We let ourselves be touched by tragedy, wherever it is found.

But they are also some of the best words,  the bravest words we could utter.  Because what is the other choice?  To turn around and look away, and hope we can keep our distance?  No, these words are a cry to action, a refusal to continue to accept the violence which plagues our world.

"Too close to home..."
With these words we claim this world as our home.  And those who suffer in it, are our family. 

These tragedies, are all far too close to home.  It is up to us to grab each others' hands, and go out into this world, determined to make it better.   



     

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

    

The stories we share

Terrible situation.  Solange's parents died when she was young.  A kind uncle took her in and helped care for her.  She says she wouldn't have survived without him. 

 Solange was recently able to repay his kindness with generosity of her own.  About a month ago the escalating war in Congo forced him to flee their rural hometown with his wife and 5 children.  He borrowed money from neighbors to be able to travel to Goma and Solange opened her doors and welcomed their family, keeping a roof over their head and food on the table this past month (your purchases made this possible!).

 The other day her uncle traveled back to their hometown, leaving his wife and children at Solange's house in Goma.    He wanted to repay the money he had borrowed.  While traveling through the forest in an insecure area on a motorcyle taxi he was stopped, robbed and killed.  These are the effects of a war that never ends.  Not only did this man leave a wife and 5 young children, his wife is pregnant with their 6th child.  

Solange traveled with the wife back to their hometown to bury this beloved man.  The children remained at Solange's house in Goma and Argentine and Riziki went to stay at Solange's house to help care for the children.  They are all broken-hearted and at a loss to know what to do. 

I have no words to express how difficult life is many times for the people of Congo.  But I continue to be amazed at their spirit and their generosity.  Like Solange, many, many people in Goma open their very humble homes and share what little they have with refugees who have nowhere else to go.  And in the face of loss, these women, who are from different families and different tribes, just bind closer together. 

The women would appreciate your thoughts and prayers for this family. 

To me the women never cease to remind me of how we should use overwhelming obstacles to drive us together.  Even when we don't know what to do, and have little to offer materially, we can offer each other the knowledge that we are not alone.

Run For Congo

Are you in the NY area?  This fall there is a great Run For Congo event on Roosevelt Island.  You can walk or run, the island is a super peaceful place, and the money you raise goes to Women for Women International.  They are on the ground in Goma and they do good, solid work.  You can sign up to run/walk on their website at  

www.runforcongowomen.org

As if that is not reason enough to come out for a beautiful fall day, we've got one more reason...  SHONA will have a table there!  

If you're one of our many online friends, let me just tell you that there is nothing like being able to run your hands over all SHONA's brilliant colors and pick one for yourself.  We'll be debuting some new products there, and I'll be there to talk your ear off about Congo!  We had a great time last year, and would love to see you there this year!

Money and Marriage in Congo

The goats given to Mapendo's family as part of a bride price

Kupana mali: To give wealth

In the US, we give fancy engagement rings.  OK, mine isn't really fancy, but I am often amazed by the amount of money that men are expected to spend on engagement rings in this country.  Why do we continue with this tradition and where did it come from?

Surely there is some underlying message to this ring (besides the Diamond industry's success in the marketing slogan "A Diamond is Forever").  

Surely there is some way that we see the ring as a demonstration of the man's love, and perhaps of his ability to provide for his soon-to-be-wife.  We may not like to think of it that way in our modern culture, but I am amazed at the extent to which this material "tradition",which was in fact heavily promoted if not outright created, by the diamond industry, remains central to our engagements and marriages.  I have watched no shortage of women prominently displaying their large diamond engagement ring to flocks of admiring women.  I've listened to those women guessing at how much the man spent on that ring.  Exactly what is being admired here, if not the extent to which this ring communicates the great love of her fiance and his intention to care for her...materially?

In Congo, the giving of gifts is a bit more direct.  We're talking about goats and cows, pots and pans, clothing, and cooking utensils. And this is given not to the bride, but to her family, as a form of a bride price, in an engagement ceremony.  This bride price is negotiated in advance, and represents a very sizable amount of the man's supposed wealth.  As you can imagine, most men in Eastern Congo have very little wealth to speak of, and struggle heavily to arrange for any sort of acceptable bride price.  

 

Here you see the giving of pots and pans

 

The gift of new cloth (being wrapped around the head)

And yes, in the middle of those hands being raised in celebration, that is a suit which I assume is another part of the bride price given to Mapendo's family. 

As you know, both Mapendo and Solange recently got married.  Before the civil marriages they had engagement ceremonies where bride prices were given.  These are the photos from Mapendo's ceremony.  We are very happy that Mapendo and Solange were able to celebrate these rites of passage which they thought might never happen due to the reality of living with disabilities (women with disabilities often find it difficult to find a husband since the disability is perceived as lowering their "value" as a wife).  I am sure that both Mapendo and Solange's husbands worked hard to find the money and give the appropriate "mali", and this is a real achievement when resources are so limited.   

In the US, a couple might decide to skip the fancy engagement ring, and spend the money elsewhere.  But in Congo, the decision is not so easy.  The bride price is considered a necessary step prior to a legal wedding.  Many men find that they simply cannot afford to pay it, and so couples end up living together without a marriage.  This is seen as a real offense to the woman's family, both because it represents a sizable loss of income, and because it is seen as disrespectful.  Many men spend years, long after living together and starting a family, trying to pay the debt they owe to their wife's family. 

The bride price is an interesting tradition, and no doubt holds value within the traditional culture.  But just as many American traditions have lost context and become overly materialized and commercialized (can I mention the holiday shopping madness at Christmas time), I think the bride price suffers similar issues in a country where overwhelming numbers of men struggle to find any real source of income.  Still, the tradition remains extremely important to people, and we are very happy to see these photos of the SHONA women celebrating in Congolese fashion, a life they once only dreamed of.

Here is the wedding ceremony, including a"traditional" fanta soda sharing...much like a our cake sharing...and just as sweet!

 Here is the signing of the wedding certificate.  That is the biggest smile I think I have ever seen on Mapendo's face.  In Congolese tradition the wedding party does not smile during any of the ceremonies, especially not in photos.  (Perhaps to show the seriousness of the events?)  I guess Mapendo decided to dispense with that tradition...

 

Congratulations!!!

 

~And Best wishes~