What The Women Really Want

(l. to r.) Pasqualine (AVDC Representative), Alice holding Gaston, Yves (AVDC President), Bernadette, Senator David Mubalama, me, and Victor, our Mashi translator.

After the women and machines were relocated, I spoke with Yves who told me something very interesting: He and the women survivors have been working privately for over two years to obtain NGO status. This is not an easy achievement, and they have done everything but finish paying the attorney. That is very impressive.

The Friday following the move, I met with the women as a group at the OCET building to discuss their options.

They began by voting Yves their President, as he has been their counselor for over 3 years and they trust him to act in their best interests. They voted Pasqualine to be their Representative and Spokesperson, as she has already taken a leadership role with the group and is literate. They chose not to include other committee members at this time. I am to act as Consultant who helps them finance their projects.

The women discuss their options.

After more discussion, they decided to return to the space they previously occupied for the following reasons:

• their prior location has better foot traffic for a store,


• it doesn't make sense to pay double rent,


• the OCET building is a long way from where most of them live, so it will be costly and difficult for them to get there, and


• they are already a well-known sewing center in that location.

They voted to hire the OCET sewing teacher, who was at the meeting and fixed the machines while we talked. She is a dedicated teacher, a woman who takes her job seriously. Unlike the previous sewing teachers, she has a diploma in teaching dressmaking. The women were delighted by her expertise and excited for classed to begin. She said many of the women will be at Beginning Dressmaker Level in six months with lessons 3x per week.

AVDC women members surround me with new sewing teacher at far left.

While the women continue their sewing classes, they plan to generate income by renting the sewing machines to other dressmakers. They can take lessons in the morning and rent the machines in the afternoon. It turns out that fourteen sewing machines in a building with cement floor and intact roof is a luxury in Bukavu, so this passive income could be lucrative.

Income generated this way will be recorded by an accountant of their choosing and split equally among the women survivors, after expenses such as electricity and machine up-keep are deducted. A sign will be made to advertise this service.

No more will donations from abroad be sent directly to any one person. All contributions and income will be recorded and deposited in their NGO account by an accountant in Bukavu. Accounts payable will be logged in and backed up by receipts, so that all disbursements will be accounted for and transparent.

Disbursements will be made through group decision.

I am delighted how well this group of women survivors is evolving. Despite set-backs, they are becoming more self-confident, working together as a cohesive group, and taking responsibility for their future.

My interpreter for this meeting was Roland, a 21-year old Congolese kid with wisdom beyond his years. After listening to the women for some time, he turned to me and said, "These women are really tough." And, yes, it is true: they are tough . . . that is why they are still alive.

Roland, my translator, and Honorable Mubalama

The next day, Honorable David Mubalama, Senator for the Province of South Kivu, stopped by to lend his support to the re-opening of the women's center. It is now an NGO of its own, doing business as Action des Voluntaires Developement Communciutaire (AVDC).

Congratulations Yves and the women of AVDC! You are doing a great job!

With love and gratitude,

A Change of Plans

Moving the women and machines.


Well, folks, I haven't written for a while, because I've been submerged in the dark side of doing business in Africa: misappropriation of funds, exploitation of women, collusion, and theft. Not much fun, but inevitable if one is going to help women in DR Congo. . . I am learning.

When I returned to Bukavu in mid-June, I realized things were amiss when I was suddenly left out of committee meetings at the Bukavu Women's Center. Then funds sent to a director went missing and the staff went unpaid. I further realized that over $10,000 had been donated to the Center since it opened a year ago last August, and the women were still struggling with homelessness, malnutrition, and unresolved medical issues.

Women survivors demand a new sewing teacher.

The following week, I met with the women, who were outraged that the sewing teacher was selling parts of the machines to supplement his income (the first teacher, his brother, had disappeared after stealing one machine). The women demanded a new teacher, this time a woman, and refused to return to work until the old teacher left. The Center shut down for 2 weeks while everyone waited for the directors to come to Bukavu and resolve the situation.
After much circuitous talk and no resolution, I rented a truck and moved the sewing machines, tables, and other equipment to another site where the women and machines would be safe. The women were delighted to escape the sewing teacher, who refused to leave his business and sat glumly by as the sewing center was loaded onto the truck.

The former sewing teacher watches his business go out the door.

The situation was worse than I had imagined. Both sewing teachers, brothers, were pastors of a church that was closely affiliated with the Director's church, and which excluded the women while it exploited them. The sewing teachers/pastors had been running a lucrative dressmaking business using the donated machines and women for labor. Profits from this business were being split with the directors, nothing going to the women who desperately needed it and did most of the work.

The moving truck needs a little help to get started.

The women had been threatened with explusion from the center if they told the truth about this arrangement to the donors.

We took everything but three machines, two of which had been stripped of parts by the sewing teacher. Nothing was taken that was not paid for by donations I generated. Luckily, the more expensive Mercedes and Edger machines were still there, but unfortunately not intact.

The OCET building is located south of Bukavu near Panzi Hospital.

Everything was moved to OCET, a well-established NGO that provides education and training for girls who have been raped and impregnated, legal advocacy to prosecute their rapists, and training in women's rights, social action, and environmentalism.

OCET was founded and is run by my friend Bellah and her husband, Sylvester, an attorney who advocates for women victims of SGBV in the Congo. Bellah is a smart woman with an MBA; she is accountant and grant writer for OCET, as well as accountant for the Shilo Hospital in Nyangezi. I love working with Bellah, because she feels deeply about these women and gets as upset as I do when funds intended for the disadvantaged go the greedy instead of the needy.

Girl students in a literacy class at OCET.

Hortense, my translator, was a great help with the move and later getting the women organized. She has worked for Women for Women for some years now as an administrator, trainer, and conflict negotiator. She knows this population well, having heard their stories for over four years. Recently, she translated for the Holocaust Museum when they were in Bukavu collecting stories of rape and torture from the women.

Below Hortense everyone's name, address, age, and the number and ages of their children.

Hortense at work.

Now the women and machines were safe in their new home at OCET. But I acted precipitously, initiating change in a vacuum, before things got any worse. So now that the deed was done, Is this what the women really want? Stay tuned as the plot thickens. . .

With love and gratitude,

HOW TO DONATE

Dear Friends, Family and other Compassionate Souls,

Many of you have written asking how you can make a difference in these women's lives.

The first thing you can do is spread the word about bringing PEACE to DR Congo. The second best thing to do is to donate to grassroots organizations work in DRC. My organization, Empower Congo Women, is now a pubic charity dedicated to helping Congolese women survivors of sexual violence heal, rebuild their live, and prosper.

Please send your checks to:

Empower Congo Women

P.O. Box 60940

Santa Barbara, CA 93106

OR pay online through paypal at www.empowercongowomen.org

Your donations will be tax-exempt.

The women and I thank you for any contribution you make to help them.

You may rest assured that all monies donated to the women survivors and their families will go directly to support their training, counseling, food, school supplies, medical needs, and spiritual well-being.

With love and gratitude,

Bukavu Women Survivors (2)

Hotense says Hello.


Hortense, my translator, and I interviewed three more women survivors in late June. We met in Dr. Florimond's office on a Saturday afternoon and spent over an hour with each woman, witnessing their pain as they broke silence.

The interview: We first determined their age, marital status, children, and living situation. Then we encouraged them to describe "the event" as these atrocities are euphemistically called. This takes time, as what happened is so personally shameful that they don't want to utter it. Next we emphasized that they are strong survivors, and most important of all, that it is not their fault.

Lastly, we discuss what they can do right now to make their lives better. We identify their strengths, which are many. This is everyone's favorite part of the interview, and it's why you see them smiling, despite all that has happened.

I believe each of these women possesses individual talents and abilities, things she loved to do and was good at before the tradegy occurred, things she could do again given the chance-- and some financial aid.

Rosette

Rosette is 33 years old and has seven children. Her youngest, GuyRoger, who is seated here with her, is 7 months old. She is from Walungu, a rich mining area a day's drive south of Bukavu. Rosette was a housewife, her husband a miner who made good wages and provided his family with their own home. Their older children attended school. Rosette was taken into the bush three times: the first time she escaped, the second time her husband was killed to avenge the escape of others.

The third time she spent 8 months as a sex slave to Hutu soldiers. The women were stripped naked and left without clothes, a humiliating experience for any woman. They were made to eat a spoonful of feces each day; if anyone resisted, she was beaten. Rosette still has problems swallowing today, almost two years after her release. The women were called by whistle and raped at least three times a day: morning, noon, and night, a ghoulish meal for the soldiers.

When Rosette returned to her village, her home had been burned and all her possessions stolen. She had nothing, and she was 2 months pregnant. Because having a Hutu child is considered a curse, she was unwelcome in her village. Her in-laws told her they would care for her other 6 children if she gave the baby away, but she could not do that. So she brought her children to Bukavu, where she struggles to support them all by selling bread. Sophie's choice.

The family sleeps wherever it can, the older children blaming the baby for their miserable circumstances. Because they resent the baby, Rosette always keeps him with her. When I asked why she doesn't send the other children to her in-laws where they won't grow up as street children, she answered that a woman's children are like the trunk of an elephant; she cannot be separated from them.

Nyassa

Nyassa is a name that means "mother of twins" in her language: she has three sets of twins and two other children, eight in all. Nyassa was also captured by Hutu soldiers and kept as a sex slave for 3 months. She said they were big men, "gangsters" who repeatedly raped the twenty women captured from her village. Her husband died trying to stop the soldiers from raping her; after he was killed, they still raped her and in front of her children, a memory that haunts her and makes her ashamed to look at her children.


She said the women were treated like animals, without pity. She said her suffering was so great that her skin turned black. She has had surgery for fistulas, but her womb continues to weep.

Nyassa escaped with all her children when she went to fetch water and a guard relaxed his vigilance. After that, they lived in the bush for several months eating wild food. They all got smallpox. Her youngest child, who was 3 years old, died from the hardship and had to be buried in a borrowed cloth they had so little. When she returned home, she found that no one was left in her village. Gold miners had taken over the homes, and everything of hers was gone.

Nyassa supports her family by carrying heavy loads, up to 50 kgs, of charcoal and rocks. Because she is able to do this, four of her children attend school, but her body is giving out.

Marcelline

Marcelline is 29 years old and has nine children. Her husband was a successful businessman who bought and sold tools to miners. When first asked, she said they were separated, but after some talking, we learned that he was murdered by Hutu soldiers, buried alive while she watched. She still sees his face, sweating, terrified, as they covered him with dirt.

In the Hutu camp, soldiers lined up to rape the women, morning, noon, and night. Each woman was put on a sheet, and water was thrown on her vagina after each man finished. They were given no food, only cornmeal mixed with the men's urine; if they did not eat it, they starved. The weak ones were sent to the creek to get water, in hopes they would die away from camp and not have to be buried.


Marcelline escaped when a soldier took pity and sent her to the creek, knowing she was strong enough to get away. She walked home and found her children safe with relatives; however, her in-laws rejected her because her husband was dead and she had been raped. At Panzi Hospital, her "heart broke" when she discovered she was pregnant. She begged them to abort her during vaginal surgery, but the doctor refused saying he was there to save lives, not take them. Her youngest daughter is 1 1/2 years old now.

Eventually, Marcelline was able to get all her children back. Her in-laws closed their houses to her and the Hutu child, but her children snuck out and fled with her. Sympathetic neighbors raised $10 so she could start a business, wherein she first bought fish and exchanged them for cassava, then walked 15 km to sell the cassava for a small profit.

So far she has been able to feed her children, but she in increasingly unable to walk long distances due to her prior injuries.

So why are these women smiling?

Rosette wants to be part of the governing committee made up of women survivors at BWC. She also plans to buy and sell food (beans) with her children helping her.

Nyassa loves to sew and has been making clothes for the sewing teacher at the Center. She wants to sew for outsiders who bring their own fabric, eventually getting her own stash of fabric to make clothes for profit.

Marcelline also loves to sew and goes everyday to the Center to practice. She wants to make children's clothes and sell them through the Center.

What I most love about these women is their lack of bitterness. Yes, they are very sad about their lost lives and lost love, but they are also able to look to the future with hope. They still love God. Their smiles are real and so beautiful. . . I am blessed to know them.

With love and gratitude,

Nyangezi Women Survivors (1)

Nyangezi women survivors.

Several months ago, Dr. Florimond, his sister Bellah, and I went to the local UNICEF office to tell them about the medical services available at Poll Health Center and Shilo Hospital in Nyangezi.

The UNICEF manager curtly told us those services were not needed in Nyangezi. She went on to say that people were healthier there than other areas of Congo, and that Dr. Florimond should have built his health facilities where they were really needed.

Apparently, she spoke without knowing much about the Nyangezi area.

Wesa Academy, another victim of war.

The day we visited Shilo Hospital, we drove over to Wesa Academy, once an excellent school with over 1000 students, now sitting empty for almost 10 years, another victim of war.

The women wait to hear how we can help them.

There we met over 60 women survivors of sexual, gender-based violence (SGBV), who live in the area. They were brought to the meeting by Jon Pierre, a young Pastor who acts as their intermediary.

Jon Pierre (white shirt) introduces Dr. Florimond.

The women elected Jacqueline to speak for them. Also a SGBV survivor, she explained that these women are the sole support of their families, as they have been widowed or deserted by their husbands during the war. Due to injuries stemming from sexual violence, many are unable to do farm work or carry heavy loads, the only work available to country women such as these. What household belongings and animals they had were stolen by soldiers, so they are unable to pull themselves out of poverty.

Jacqueline describes the women's situation.

Jacqueline emphasized their lack of medical care; some have not received treatment after being raped. Many are in pain and have difficulty walking. They are unable to take their children to the doctor when they are ill.

Thinking that Dr. Florimond is a medical doctor, the women hoped he would treat them today.

Dr. Florimond explains he is a psychologist and cannot treat them medically.

Deeply moved by their situation, we both said we would help. Dr. Florimond offered them access to medical services at Poll Health Center. I said I would find investors to make small loans so they could buy and sell food-- this is an excellent way for the women to make money, provided they have the initial investment to get started.

The women applaud their appreciation.

Needless to say, the women were overjoyed, showing their happiness by singing, clapping, and yodeling, African-style.

A happy moment.

Taking advantage of the upbeat moment, I tried to show them how to use abdominal breathing to make their painful memories go away. Something must have gotten lost in translation, because the more I explained how the belly rises and falls with each breath, the more they laughed. In fact, everyone was laughing . . . it was a great moment of connection with these amazingly resilient women.

Dr. Victoria brings western behavioral therapy to the Congo,

With love and gratitude,