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!
This is not melodramatic, Lisa! Glad you chose to share this… people need to know what is happening there and you are an excellent conduit for getting this information to the world. I doubt anyone would ever mistake your passion for melodrama.
Deep breath in. Me. Not you. ;) Oh Lisa, you already know how proud you make us all. You are so brave. Remember you have the strength of the 5.4 million people that have died there behind you, on your shoulders, guiding your way like a light in the darkness. You will be safe because you must be. Because the story must be told. The universe surrounds the brightest lights among us and paves the way for such things. You, my sister, are one of the bright lights.
Peace to you,
Jen
I have been bursting into sobs intermittently all day myself, inexplicably, but understandably. Some good news for everyone else, Lisa just texted me before taking off for Dungu that she met two French nurses on the plane — so she will have some friends on the ground there. I texted her back that she will need them.
Dearest Ann,
Hang in there! We never stop being mothers, do we? It’s a beautiful morning. A nice walk can calm the nerves. Thank you for giving an update.