Archive for January, 2010
The Mango Tree Rebellion
Thursday night around 5 pm, as we lounged on our little stoop at the Mission, Mama Koko mused about the mangoes. Little did we know what was happening across town. “We won’t have mangoes this year. Normally they are already the size of my thumb, but the flowers just bloomed and dried up. No fruit.” Mangoes are a big deal around here. The ancient trees line the wide lanes running through town, giving the strange impression of a southern plantation, and grace nearly every compound. The trees are prolific around Dungu, making the fruit a staple. “What will we eat? It’s going to be a hard year.”
Food is on everyone’s mind. Following the LRA attacks and sightings earlier this week on the outskirts of town, locals have had plenty of time to absorb the implications: it’s time to start preparing the fields for planting. But it’s also categorically unsafe. That means hunger for most of the year.
Locals have been stewing over the attacks. Yesterday, we when we visited the site of the attacks we were informed five LRA were seen there again only Tuesday, two days before our visit! On the way out of the maze of mud and thatch huts of Bamokandi, I stopped and asked neighbors their thoughts, if they had anything to say to Americans. Did they ever! The men unleashed a firestorm, perhaps because, as they informed me, I was the first to ask them. Kabila doesn’t care. The FARDC (Congolese Army) doesn’t do enough. MONUC (UN) is sponsoring the LRA… (What?) “We know because the LRA eats the same food, wears MONUC uniforms, and a neighbor’s son saw MONUC officers release an LRA captive…”
The conjecture based on rumor made me uncomfortable, but I was happy to provide them a chance to vent. They’re scared and need someone to listen. Late for an appointment, we wished them well and continued on our way.
When Koko’s brother picked me up for my morning internet outing today, he tried to explain something in broken English about MONUC, bad news, and cutting trees. Though Koko should have left for Mama Koko’s a couple of hours ago, she was waiting for me at the Mission when I returned. “It’s bad. Last night, there was an incident.”
Uh oh.
The story went like this: A small group of Congolese army officers noticed a MONUC vehicle carrying six civilians who were armed. Apparently the FARDC guys had never seen civilians in a MONUC vehicle before, never mind packing guns. So an off-duty officer and his wife followed the car until they saw it stop and the “civilians” got out next to an entrance to the forest. The officer yelled, “LRA!” The men climbed back into the vehicle and sped off, but not before igniting hysteria among the locals.
My big question: Did this really happen, or is it an FARDC fabrication?
The locals big question: Who where those men? Why was the UN dropping them off?
In an atmosphere loaded with mistrust and fury at the UN’s failure to protect civilians, it was just the spark necessary to convince the locals the UN is sponsoring the LRA. They took to the streets. They chopped down whole mango trees and laid them across the road to block all UN access to the airport and the attack area, Bamokandi, stretching several kilometers up the road to past Mama Koko’s house and up to the bridge into town. Then they got weapons. Machetes. Spears. Guns. The message is, “We’ve had it. If you won’t protect us, we’ll protect ourselves.”
According to several reports from locals, the FARDC has pounced and done their best to stoke the fury. For instance, Koko’s brother saw them handing out coffee and cigarettes to locals last night, encouraging them to stay up all night in the streets.
In reaction, at some point last night, MONUC fired shots in the air at their compound in the center of town, later claiming it was because they spotted the LRA in the town center. A risky strategy for an already terrified population. The FARDC fired in response.
Koko’s family insisted we stay at the Mission today in lock down. By midday, the center of town was flooded with Congolese Army. I sent Koko’s brother to take pictures, so I’ve seen images of the downed mango trees and gathering crowds.
If this all sounds like some form of war-zone adventure, I assure you, it’s not. Most of the day was spent hanging around a hot cement hallway in the Mission, analyzing the rash on my hand, sipping warm bottled water, trying to avoid the harsh sun and my cave of a room. (With no running water or electricity, it feels an awful lot like camping.) Koko and I kept our eyes on the parking lot, waiting for visitors’ periodic updates. The reports were the same all day: “The situation is tense.”
“Can we go out? Even to the center of town?”
“No!!!” was the most common response. But sometimes we got the variation, “Yes, no problem! Their problem is only with MONUC.”
“So we can go now?”
“Right now, it’s tense. When it’s calm, you can go!”
We did slip away to the nearby hospital for a short visit with Antoinette’s baby boy. Doctors say he has rallied since a blood transfusion yesterday, but they will keep him through the weekend to be safe. He was limp and sad, but I’m not sure one could expect much else. His dad was at his side, not pretending to be anything but devastated over his wife’s murder.
By evening, community leaders periodically passed through the Mission, admitting defeat with a day of negotiations. MONUC has dismissed concerns, stating the population is being manipulated with stories and no such incident took place. The leaders admit that is possible. The story does deflect tensions away from the FARDC. Note: people are no longer talking about the FARDC blocking the route to safety during the attack. But in dismissing the community’s fears, MONUC is ignoring the more serious complaint, one for which they surely have no good answer: Why have they failed to protect civilians from the LRA? Is it a surprise people are ripe for manipulation? They are terrified, facing a year of hunger, and with the LRA sightings earlier this week, they are convinced the LRA will be back at any moment. The one thing they do know is that no one – not MONUC, not the FARDC, or their government – will be there to protect them. They are furious, panicked…and now armed.
“It’s big.” The Mayor told me. “MONUC fired shots. The FARDC fired back.”
Don’t even get me started on the FARDC. It’s like one community leader put it, ”They know exactly the right button to push.”
As for MONUC, I humbly propose they re-write the page in their crowd control manual that suggests firing weapons is a solid strategy for calming the masses hysterical with fear. (And the one about covering your tracks by saying a deadly militia is in town may not exactly, um, soothe!) Perhaps MONUC would do better to listen a little more, learn to say ”hi” in the local language, and focus on their job, to protect these people while saving their gunshots for the bad guys – the LRA.
More as it develops…
When the UN won’t listen…send in the white girl with a camera!
Saturday Morning- quick update. Community leaders have asked me to go out into the streets with my camera to talk with the people. Give them a chance to vent and feel someone hears them. (When the UN won’t listen…send in the white girl with a camera!) A respected priest went ahead to speak with them. They wanted to talk until the FARDC showed up and tried forcibly to get them to clear the road. It didn’t work, and now they are more angry, and no longer want to talk. Koko and I heading over to Mama Koko’s in a few minutes. We will try to talk with them later, and I will post their comments live on twitter (thousandsisters) and facebook.
Yep, trying to talk down a crowd of angry, machete and gun wielding Congolese men will be a first.
But a girl has to do what she can
People w/machetes aren’t happy – Dungu Txt Updates
Key: Congolese Army = FARDC; UN in Congo = MONUC; Bamokandi = outlying neighborhood of Dungu (on the other side of the river from the center of town).
- LRA spotted inside Dungu yet again Tuesday morning, 7 a.m. No Attack. about 20 hours ago
- Five of them hunkered down in a cemetery, watching, then crossed the road and disappeared into the bush. about 20 hours ago from txt
- Scouting another attack? FARDC patrolling the main roads, but it would be EASY for them to attack the neighborhood they hit a few weeks ago. about 20 hours ago from txt
- They’re obviously scouting where FARDC is/ is not. Visited site of attack today. It was 1 pm so okay. But I bet they’ll be back before we leave. We’re on it.
- FARDC stoking rumors MONUC is supporting LRA (UN seen carrying civilians with guns – think its IRA) Jan 28, 1:21 PM Pacific Time
- Locals are SO ANGRY at FARDC, Kabila, and the UN. No protection anywhere. about 20 hours ago from txt
- Interviewed 12 year old girl today- Mado- just rescued from 8 months held captive by LRA. Shot in the leg- recovering now. about 20 hours ago from txt
- Also interviewed 2 men recovering from machete wounds to head and back, incurred during LRA attacks over the weekend. about 20 hours ago from txt
- And unbraided Koko’s hair, learned how to pound, de-husk rice! What a day in Congo! about 20 hours ago from txt
- It’s getting sketchy here in town. FARDC stoking rumors MONUC is supporting LRA. about 4 hours ago from txt
- Citizens near riots, cutting down mango trees, blocking MONUC access to Bamokandi (and airport). We’re in lock down on this side of town. about 4 hours ago from txt
- Koko’s family on other side of bridge. Can’t see them today. Hanging out at mission. Working on bringing Mama Koko back over here. about 4 hours ago from txt
- Paranoia. 2 FARDC soldiers claim they saw the UN drop 6 armed civilians next to the forest. People think it was the LRA – hence the upset. about 1 hour ago from txt
- The problem – just heard from mayor FARDC is known to make up stories to provoke upset. If so, it worked. about 1 hour ago from txt
- Now everyone I’ve talked with today believes the LRA is sponsored by the UN. Hence the mango tree riots. That, my friends, is the face of instability. Crazy. about 1 hour ago from txt
- Never mind the airport road – now the FARDC is all over the center of town, winding people up, stoking the fire. According to Koko’s brother. about 1 hour ago from txt
- I want to go into town center to see what’s happening, but Koko’s family thinks a wound-up crowd could easily mistake a white girl for MONUC. about 1 hour ago from txt
- Getting serious Koko’s brother just reported residents of Bamokandi are guarding the road to the airport w/ machetes, guns, spears about 1 hr ago from txt
- People are all the way too the Mama Koko’s place and past, up to the bridge into town w/machetes and guns, etc. Jan 29 3:19 pm Dungu time
- Saying if MONUC and FARDC won’t protect them, they’ll protect themselves. Jan 29, 3:20 pm Dungu time
- The UN Base by the airport. That’s the point of the protest. Block the UN from that road since they support the LRA. They’ll run out of water. We’ll protect ourselves. Jan 29, 3:31 pm Dungu time
- Koko says its for my safety we’re hunkered down here. She could go home, but doesn’t want to see people w/ machetes. She’s seen it before (in rwanda). Jan 29, 3:37 pm Dungu time
- “People with machetes aren’t happy. It’s not a good time. ” Jan 29, 3:37 pm Dungu time
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“Lisa Shannon’s beautifully written memoir is for anyone who thinks one person can’t make a difference in the world. A page turning read, A Thousand Sisters could inspire the biggest skeptic. Hard to put down.” - Emily Deschanel, Actress and Activist
Emily has been a friend and long time supporter of Run for Congo Women- and fellow vegan! Thanks Emily!!!
Yeah, it’s like that – another incomprehensible failure by the Congolese Army
I talked to Antoinette’s father today, in Mama Koko’s living room. A modest man, mid-fifties, pressed, tucked, and in a baseball cap – visibly wearing the weight of his recent loss. He sat on the far end of the sofa, with Koko’s elderly uncle, who had been badly beaten himself last year by the LRA, on the other end.
He was at home on that day, taking care of his grandchildren while his daughter worked. He heard gunshots, then screaming, and grabbed the two young children. Along with thousands of neighbors, he ran toward safety in the town center, which houses the UN compound. But by the time they reached the river and bridge – the only route into the town center – Congolese soldiers (FARDC) had blocked the bridge, intentionally preventing those escaping the attack from crossing to safety.
“Why didn’t you just swim across the river?” I asked.
“It’s deep. We can’t swim. And if we tried, the Congolese soldiers would shoot us like we were rebels.”
Thousands of people were forced to sleep outside, less than a mile from the site where the LRA was in the middle of an attack, abducting an unknown number of townspeople.
I’ve written before about the FARDC’s failure to protect, their human rights abuses. Hearing the news of this attack when preparing to leave for Congo last week, I found their failure to intervene shocking, since the LRA attackers had walked right past them on the way to their target. But this? Preventing locals from reaching safety? Effectively corralling thousands of potential victims into a holding pen in the middle of an LRA attack? Astounding.
“They didn’t want the LRA to slip into the center of town with the people.” Koko’s brother offers.
I asked the grieving father, “Does that seem like a reasonable explanation to you?”
He shook his head defiantly, “No. It’s not right. The soldiers should be in the front, with the people in the back, so they can protect us. But the soldiers were in the back, and we were up front, with the LRA coming.”
Thousands of people slept in the road next to the bridge until daylight, when they headed back home. At 7 a.m., a 12-year-old boy came to him with the news: neighbors had found his daughter’s body. (His sister had also been shot in the chest, but she lived.) His daughter was still holding her baby (neighbors left the little boy in his dead mother’s arms until the family arrived and her sister swooped down and collected the little boy).
“If you could say something to Americans – the government or just regular people – what would you say?”
“I don’t know what to tell the American government if I can’t even talk to my own government. Because they don’t care about the way people are dying from the LRA. They don’t do anything about it.”
A few days ago, this father gathered with his fellow citizens and marched through the center of Dungu in protest of the Congolese government’s failure to protect.
“If you could have five minutes with Joseph Kabila, what would you say?”
“I would ask him: Why did I vote for you? Everything that is happening to us, you don’t do anything. We don’t even hear your voice. You say nothing. You don’t care.”
“It sounds like you blame the Congolese government and the Congolese army for what happened. Is that right?”
Both men on opposite ends of the sofa look at me with a mix of sadness and indignance. Koko’s uncle can’t contain himself. “Yeah, it’s like that.”
“Yeah, it’s like that,” the grieving father echoes again and then again. “Yeah. It’s like that.
Still Nursing
I wrote earlier about last week’s LRA attack in Dungu. As I lounged in the back of Mama Koko’s compound, a round mud and thatch open-air gathering spot for the family, 20 or so brothers, uncles, cousins, babies, and new moms all gathered around in celebration of Koko’s homecoming, their long-lost relative who lives in America. I presumed we would have a casual, lighthearted reunion. But when we ate the home-cooked meal Koko’s sister made to welcome us, Koko’s elderly, frail uncle steered conversation towards the incident last year when he was seriously beaten by the LRA, prompting his move into town.The recent attacks were foremost on everyone’s mind. They wanted to talk about it.
Last week’s attack happened less than a mile from here. Mama Koko’s sprawling home compound is in a residential section of Dungu, scattered with cracked mud huts topped with thatched roofs that are propped up with crooked, polished wood posts. The family has started sleeping at home again after four nights on the ground in the courtyard of the UN compound following the attack (where they used to play tennis. Koko pointed it out as we passed through the center of this crumbling colonial town). The Congolese army set up a night watch right next to Mama Koko’s compound for a few nights, but they haven’t been back for several days now.
School had let out, so a few children went to do their daily chore of gathering water. As they stood at the community faucet collecting water in plastic jugs, they spotted men in long coats with guns. Lords Resistance Army (LRA). The children ran. The militia followed.
A young woman walked along the roadside with her one year old baby boy when she saw them. The LRA soldiers shot a man near her, fleeing with his 3 year old daughter in his arms. The bullet hit his arm, but nailed the child, passing straight through her stomach. (The father lived, but the little girl died in the hospital two days later.) When the young woman started to run, they shot her, hitting her butt, the bullet passed through, blowing apart the whole area between her legs. She collapsed to the ground, but but held her baby to her chest and dragged herself on her back to the bushes to hide. If she had had immediate medical treatment, she would likely be alive. But everyone who could have helped had run away, scrambling for safety.
In the morning, a neighbor saw a trail of blood mixed with road dust. Following it into the bushes, the neighbor found the young woman’s dead body, with her baby boy, alive, cradled in her lifeless arms.
The baby was still nursing.
I asked Koko’s family if they knew the young woman. Though their family has already suffered multiple losses in LRA attacks over the past two years, the answer was yes. Koko’s eyes widened, her jaw dropped when she heard the name.
It was her cousin Antoinette.
Dear World: a guest blog by my beloved friend Tracy Ronzio, Chicago Run for Congo Women Organizer
While I’m in the Congo, I have asked several people to provide guest blogs. Hope you enjoy them as much as I have. - Lisa
Dear World,
I sit here with my newborn son. As a new mom, I know that my life is forever changed. My wish is that you treat him gently, and I will in turn teach him to quietly and tenderly meet your needs. I will encourage him to have his hands and his heart work as one. I promise to educate his heart…so that he may make educated choices with his mind. In a land of plenty, I will be sure that it is his heart that will be full.
Little did I know that these quiet wishes of mine would soon challenge me and my own place in this world.
A few years back, I sat, in the comfort and safety of our home, playing with my son Rocco….I thought about the many hopes and dreams I had for him and my family. But, little did I know what an unexpected path my life would take. Oprah came on. For the next hour I would sit, in tears, numb from what I was watching. I was in complete disbelief of what women and children…just like me and my son…were enduring. As women and mothers we all desire the same for our children. Good health. Good Education. A Safe home. As a woman and mother with so many freedoms and privileges, I became completely determined to be a voice for these women and children in Congo, since so few were speaking for them.
For many years before becoming a mother…I would hear of a cause…and think “I should do something.” Though there are so many worthy causes, the plight of the Congolese grabbed hold of me that morning…and my family and I have been on a completely unexpected journey that has brought so many blessings to us.
At first, I challenged myself to run. Simply get out there and run in honor of the many women and children who were running for their lives every day. Taking Lisa Shannon’s lead, my husband, Eric, and I decided to train for and run in Chicago’s half marathon. Being a non-runner, there were many days that I simply felt I could not run another step. But, the very thought of these women and children would motivate me to continue on, in their honor.
With Eric’s unending support and a cheering section including Rocco and Bella…we were able to complete the half marathon. It was such a symbolic event for me…and I thought of the Congolese every step of the way.
Once that was over, I needed to do more.
With guidance from Lisa Shannon, support from my family and the strong determination to continue to stand up for the many women and children who were enduring the most brutal acts of human rights violations, I began the first Run For Congo Women in Chicago in October of 2006.
I have always hoped that through the planning of this event, including the many presentations done on behalf of the Congolese, my children would learn to have faith in their own beliefs and ideas. To stand up. To be present. I want to teach them that though there is war, deep sorrow and tragedy…they must rely on love, courage and compassion.
With the unending support of my family (husband Eric and two children Rocco and Bella), friends and the gracious Congolese community, we are now preparing for our 5th Annual Run For Congo Women. Though the foundation of Congo’s civil war is deep and built on greed and violence, this event and the very world that they live in, is built on peace and hope.
Dear World,
Me again. I thank you for guiding me to turn my intentions into actions…I urge you to continue to encourage me and my family to use the two most powerful resources, our heart and our mind, to stand up for what is right, what is good.
“Find the seed at the bottom of your heart and bring forth a beautiful flower.” Shigenori Kameoka
I now feel stronger than ever, that it is my job to continue to plant the seeds…….
To Dungu. At the risk of appearing melodramatic…
To Dungu
Time to fess up. At the risk of appearing melodramatic, I’ve avoided posting this news. I also did not want a slew of messages saying “Don’t go!” (I feel your concern, but please refrain.)
Late last Friday, a couple of days before departure, my traveling companion Koko called her home in Dungu and got remarkable news from her family. The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) attacked INSIDE the town of Dungu. They walked in, crossed the first bridge into town, passed the airstrip, right passed the UN and the Congolese Army, and killed 7 people very close to Koko’s childhood home, where her mother Mama Koko (who else?) lives. Many more were injured and abducted. Some were later killed and their bodies recovered in the forest. One woman was beaten to death with wood she was carrying home. The attack happened around 5pm.
Despite their clear mandate to protect civilians, the UN and Congolese army did not intervene.
The news was a shock. As Koko and I talked through our options, the conversation wound up with my simple comment, “We’ll be fine.”
“We’ll be fine.” Koko added in agreement.
“We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah. We’ll be fine.”
Neither of us slept that night. It’s the first time I’ve ever seriously considered canceling a trip. The news arrived on my mom’s birthday. She was beside herself, choking back tears, “I’ll pay for your tickets. You never have to pay me back. Don’t go because you’ve already spent the money. Five thousand dollars is nothing. Any mother would do that.”
But for Koko, her mom, Mama Koko is elderly and now sleeping outside by the UN compound in the center of town. When we talked the next day, I could hear the nervousness in her voice, scared I wanted to cancel. She told me her daughter had come over and talked with her at length about not going. “But think how you would feel if it was me over there. My mom is old. If I don’t go now, I may never see her again.”
All this on top of my already raging PCS (pre-congo-syndrome), with lost appetite, acid stomach, no sleep, and periodic crying spells in the most inappropriate and embarrassing locales. I did the only logical thing- contacted people at the Enough Project, many of whom are LRA experts and even spent time in Dungu. Good news. They talked me down. Talked me through it. Stay here, don’t go there, the LRA don’t usually attack the same place twice, for fear of being tracked, talk to these people, here are their numbers…
A safety plan in place, somehow a dead focus and calm set in when one guy wrote, “It could be a unique opportunity for research.”
Yes. Research. And Mama Koko is sleeping outside. And, as Koko points out, it’s never a good, safe time to visit Dungu.
So there you have it. Context. I’m stepping on a plane today, following several days in South Kivu, no idea about internet access, only very occasionally a waive of fear passes quickly (I would be lying if I told you I’m not nervous at all- and you’d know it.) I actually can’t wait to get there. But I am loaded with a lot of questions for the wounded, and for the UN.
Relax! We’ll be fine!
With friends like this…The Price of Kimya II
If you ask me my top 3 levers to move towards a solution for Congo, everyone who knows me knows one item that would make the list: Deal with the FDLR (Forces for the Democratic Liberation of Rwanda, otherwise known since the Rwandan genocide as the Interahamwe, or Those Who Kill Together). So you would think when the government of Congo launched a major offensive to eliminate the FDLR, I would be behind the effort.
Not so.
First, every policy person I’ve talked to has said Kimya I and Kimya II were recipes for disaster from the beginning. In effect, likely to provoke reprisal attacks, and the cost to the civilian population is just too high. All true. I’m no policy expert, but I saw this unfold through the eyes of my friend Eric, who you will read about in my upcoming book, A Thousand Sisters. Eric is Congolese conservationist, who has doggedly devoted himself to engaging his local community in conservation projects at the gates of the World Heritage Site, the Kahuzi Biega Park. He’s worked straight through the past 18 years, at great personal cost to himself and his family.
He wrote me in the spring. An email with distant photos of Rwandan soldiers camping next to his environmentally themed school. CNDP, the militia led by Laurent Nkunda, integrated into the Congolese Army following their leader’s arrest. While technically now Congolese army, Eric didn’t see it that way. Foreign soldiers camped on their land. They threw the children out of Eric’s primary school and took over the buildings for shelter. When the grandson of a local park ranger disappeared, all the children were too afraid to return to school. Following a week of searching, the little boy was found dead in the forest. Last night, when Eric told me this, I asked, “Why would they kill a three year old???”
In his warmest fashion, flashing an almost sympathetic look at my naiveté, he shrugged. “Why…”
I guess at some point, it’s a question you just stop asking.
Alain, another of Eric’s students and recent graduate of Eric’s high school, wanted to become a conservationist like Eric did at his age. Alain was driving through town. He was stopped by former CNDP and robbed. Then they shot him to death.
In a final turn, as Kimya II was wrapping up, they broke into the home of Eric’s parents. They shot and beat several people. One was shot to death. Eric’s mother was shot in the thigh and hand. Four months later, she is still in the hospital. I hope to visit her soon.
Who needs reprisal attacks when those who are supposed to protect you behave like this???
No, I’m no expert. But I’m not sure I need to be to get the obvious: every guy with a gun in the Kivus seems to use the FDLR as their excuse for abominable behavior. For this alone, the FDLR are a top priority- but a DIPLOMATIC solution is key.
As for ill planned, ill executed government offensives, the scathing critiques of Kimya II by my policy wonk buddies seem painfully clear- and hit very close to home.
Tracking down Generose w/ Nick Kristof
Had the best evening with Nick Kristof, tracking down my dear sister Generose in her little home on the outskirts of Bukavu, trekking through deep mud in the dark to her little house for long conversation under tin roof pounding with rain, lit by headlamps. A major life moment.
Heading out this morning to find the baby Lisa, named after me. Two Lisa’s!
Looking for Christine
Many sisters from one of my first groups all live in the same neighborhood, so this was my first stop after checking into Orchid Safari Club. Immediately caught up with Furaha (new baby!) Francine (new baby!) and Generose (new house!) But I was disappointed not to see Christine, who has a house on the main road, and more often than not is the first person to spot me, waving wildly in greeting. Her first letters were filled with descriptions of her grandfather hunting elephants and her dog named Doggie. But she wasn’t waiting, waiving this time.
I asked my sisters about her. Apparently some time ago, her husband flew into a jealous rage and burned all of her clothes. So what’s a woman to do when she knows she deserves to be treated with respect?
She packed up her kids and moved to Burundi!!!
Of course, I’m very sad to hear her marriage took this turn, and also that I’ll likely never see her again. But I’m bursting with pride at her self-possession. I also marvel that a woman who lives in impoverished suburban Bukavu had the emotional and financial resources to dump a man who turned abusive. Like I said to her many times in letters: You go, girl!
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