Postcard from Bukavu

We, the raped women...

Got a call two weeks ago from Sr. Georgette FMM (see Oct. 19, Nov. 27, and Dec 5, 2007 posts). She was going to the FMM mission in Bukavu and wanted to fill her suitcases with used clothing for the women under their care. The Embassy CLO, Megan Bard, helped me spread the word and two days later I delivered several boxes and bags. On an impulse I also gave Sr. Georgette the cash I had on hand, $300, for whatever needs she might find there. It's not every day one gets a chance to send hard cash to one of the world's most wretched ongoing humanitarian disasters. Bukavu is a town on the shore of Lake Kivu on the eastern border of Congo. Like its ill-fated sister, Goma, its recent history is bloody, and the violence continues. Google-news it for yourself. The DRC's own military are primary perpetrators, along with Rwandan Hutus still afraid to return to their country after the 1994 genocide, Rwandan and Congolese Tutsis who chased them into Congo, etc. The situation is extremely complex, and there are no good guys. But the genocide goes on in the Kivus. Not at the speed of the Rwanda genocide, but just as ferociously, and the numbers have now added up, over the fifteen years, to five million or more. But it remains unknown to most Westerners. Why? A U.N. human rights expert recently stated that "journalists who report on rights abuses in particular have been 'killed, threatened, tortured or arrested,' if they address issues such as sexual violence, impunity for crimes and the illegal exploitation of natural resources." (AFP) But back to Sr. Georgette: She spent 10 days there, counseling women. The photos she showed me were of a fabulously beautiful region. Green hills, volcanoes, still blue lakes, rushing rivers. And tragic human scenes: women and girls (she saw one 5 years old) raped, mutilated, and infected with HIV. And pregnant. But I'll let them speak for themselves. The first photo above is just the first page of a five-page letter they wrote to me to thank me for the capital injection into their little mutual aid association. $200 went to buy supplies and materials for the soap-making and card-making operations. $100 was distributed by Sr. Georgette to fourteen of the women for their most urgent needs. In DC, $100 wouldn't buy 14 women breakfast, but for these women it was manna from heaven. The woman in the photo is one of the 14 whose horrific stories Sr. Georgette listened to. But let me give it to you straight from their letter (my translation and editing): "We, the raped women, war-wounded and handicapped, we come to you through Maman Georgette, missionary Sister, to thank you for having thought of us... It's a great comfort to know that women from elsewhere think of us... We are very many, thousands of women raped and massacred. But the small group she helps is coming out of their disastrous situation little by little... We are happy today to see Sr. Georgette who listens to us one at a time, counsels us and encourages us to go on. We who have escaped our tormentors (Rwandan rebels and others) . This war looks like it's a war against women. [...] [something in Swahili] You can be our mouthpiece, our feet to take us where we cannot go. We send you. Go tell our sisters and brothers of our immense suffering [something in Swahili]. Let them call out loudly for our cause. In the east of Congo, behind the mountains, in the heart of the forest, women and children scream for help. They are killed, they are raped. They are mutilated with stones and axes. Firearms and sticks are used to rape us. There, behind the hills, life is destroyed. We are so far, no one can hear us. We die of our wounds, of illness, of exposure. Scream for us so that the war will end. We, the kidnapped who have escaped, we have left our sisters over there, and we know what they continue to suffer. There are 12-year-old girls, mothers... There are those who cannot continue to do hard labor any more; sometimes they are buried alive. We told Sr. Georgette everything, she'll tell you everything. We are comforted by your support. We are still strong, despite our handicaps caused by injuries. We will work. We will regain our dignity through work. When we work, we ourselves have noticed, we forget our worries for a while, because we're busy. Especially when we earn something for it. We start thinking less about our past in the forest with our persecutors." "In the morning we make bracelets, we learn to sew, we make cards and rosaries. In the afternoon, we sell the soaps Maman Marie-Jeanne lends us. That way we have a little food for our children. We hope to learn to do more, make progress. "LIVE" again! That's why we say to all men and women: "Nikinge, protect me." They sent me 17 of these exquisite cards, each hand-decorated with tiny slivers of dried banana leaves. Scanned some for you:

Hey, more next time. I've run out of time.