We applaud your visit to Congo last year. As American women, business owners, mothers, fathers, grandmothers, runners, and others deeply concerned with Congo, we are proud of your interest and commitment to Eastern Congo.

However, if the IRC mortality study statistics have held, more than 500,000 Congolese people have died since your visit. Tens of thousands of women, children, and even infants have been raped, including the recent incident of close to 200 women and infants, within 10 miles of a UN compound. This is our shame.

The USA has taken precious little action. That needs to change today. You are the leader to make it happen.

1. You promised Congo 17 million dollars. Why is it still sitting in a US Government account, buried in red tape? Unacceptable. Please do what you must to get this critically needed aid to Congolese women today.
2. The culture of impunity in Congo must end. Congo needs a justice system. The Congolese army must be professionalized, so soldiers “protect and serve” rather than “steal and rape”.   We urge you to coordinate with donor governments and the Congolese government to spearhead a comprehensive national security sector reform plan for Congo.

Congolese women and children need your immediate action. We look forward to celebrating your bold, immediate leadership on this critical issue.

Sincerely,

A Thousand Sisters

{Please add YOUR name and personal note to Secretary Clinton here. I’ll pass it on!}

Lisa Shannon, Founder, Run for Congo Women, Author A Thousand Sisters, Sister to Generose & Thousands of other Congolese women.

Heading out this morning to find the baby Lisa, named after me. Two Lisa’s!

When I sat down to write my book about the journey into Congo, I started with a list- everything I did not want to include in the book.  The list was long- the secrets that could cost lives, the painful breakdown of my relationship with “Ted” over Congo work, the awkward collaboration with my sometimes-crazy mother, the romantic escape to Zanzibar with (gasp!) a man I met on the terrace at the Orchid Safari Club, but mostly my embarrassing ego and grandiosity and epic (but inevitable) missteps along the way. You were on the list.

In early drafts, I tried to skim over the unspoken tension of our supposedly “joint” trip in an effort to be fair and tasteful, but editors called me out. In fact, 90% of that do-not-include list ended up in the book. Nothing trumps an honest, emotionally transparent story – except life-threatening safety issues.  (It’s Congo. What can I say?)

After getting notes from yet another editor saying I needed to flesh you out and tell the whole story, I sat at my desk on Vashon Island, overlooking the Puget Sound and Olympic Mountains range beyond, squirming, thinking “I don’t want to write this.”

Then I re-read some of your post Congo notes and blogs, and caught the not-so-subtle jabs. Obviously, the tension was pronounced and mutual. 

I spilled it. The walk under the Capitol Building in DC, when you called my work “just pity.”  The weirdly indirect manor you let me know- on our first day in Congo- it would not be a joint trip at all. (Basically doubling the cost of my trip!) The mazungu girl-fight on the ride home from Baraka. How you left me scrambling to explain to your own sponsored sister why you would travel all the way from America to Congo, but could not make the time to meet her.

Yep, it pissed me off. And I wrote it all. The book is now off to the printers.

I still feel like a jerk. Worse. A hypocrite.

Because if there was one thing I learned from you, and especially your long silence following the trip, it was that nothing is more damaging to a movement than criticizing fellow activists who are giving it their best effort. However imperfect, perhaps buoyed with ego and grandiosity, maybe saying and doing the wrong things, our job is to show up. To say something.  To take a step. The rest we can figure out as we go.

I don’t expect you to like the way you are represented in the book, or even understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t, and for that I am so sorry.  But I do want you to know this: whatever judgment or frustration I express in the book, absolutely none of it trumps my profound respect for the fact that you showed up for Congo. You have played a critical early role in building a lasting movement, the reverberations of this journey, our honesty about our mutual shortcomings and missteps, we can’t ever know. But I know this for sure: By showing up, you have changed the future of Congo and by extension the face of humanity. 

Well done, lady.  Well done.

With deepest gratitude,

Lisa

            Francisca, a Congolese ex-pat and fellow Portland Run for Congo Women organizer, comes from Dungu, a small town in the far northeastern corner of Congo, nestled on the borders of Sudan and Uganda.  The notorious Ugandan militia the Lord’s Resistance Army has spread into Congo and south Sudan over the past couple of years. On Christmas Day 2008, four of Francisca’s Aunties and Uncles attended Christmas Mass.  The LRA showed up, and killed them along with all 400 people attending the holiday service.

            This year, the LRA have sent written threats announcing their plan to “celebrate” again.

            Why would anyone living under daily threat of attack choose to attend a holiday service?  One of my most striking first impressions of the Congolese was their fervent Christian faith. For instance, when I visited the village of Kaniola, pounded by twice weekly massacres by the Interahamwe (the militia responsible for the Rwandan genocide- still killing people), I was dumbfounded to find most villagers dressed to the nines- belts, loafers, suit jackets, dresses with lace trim.  Then I realized it was Sunday morning. They were heading to church. On another occasion, I asked a sister I sponsor through Women for Women, about the first thing she said to her children when she woke up in the hospital following an off-the-charts massacre that claimed the lives of her husband and nine year old son.  She replied, “I told them to Thank God. I lived.”

            How is it that in Congo, people who face some of the worst violence known to humanity, could maintain such strong faith, when our faith feels like it is stretched to its limit by a cheating boyfriend or a drop in the Dow Jones Industrial Average?  I’m not religious, so I’ won’t posture like an authority.  Instead, the observations of renowned psychiatrist and Jewish Holocaust survivor Viktor Frank may shed some light.  “The religious interest of the prisoners…was the most sincere imaginable.  The depth and vigor of religious belief often surprised and moved the new arrival…The last inner freedom cannot be lost.  It can be said that they were worthy of their suffering; the way they bore their suffering was a genuine human achievement. It was this spiritual freedom- which cannot be taken away- that makes life meaningful and purposeful.”

            In the face of overwhelming international news, as we are tempted to shut down and tune out, perhaps we can draw some inspiration from this kind of faith. We may not be able to waive a magic wand and make mass atrocity go away, but do we not we each possess that last of human freedoms to choose our reaction to it? In this way, is activism not an act of faith?

            This Christmas, Congo will be back in the national spotlight.  Oprah will be re-airing the show on Half the Sky and Congo, on which I appeared in the fall (your regular local time and station).  So this holiday, as you wait out the post meal bloat, go for another round of pie, or snuggle up with a loved one (the Congolese would not fault you any of it- in the face of everything, they still know how to party!)- or if you’re hunkered down avoiding all things tinsel and lights- consider watching Oprah and sharing Congo with your family and friends. Trust this simple act of faith will have reverberations beyond anything you can know, and will touch in you that last human freedoms. A beautiful way to celebrate!

            Happy holidays!

Several months ago, I had the great pleasure of meeting with the brilliant Adam Hochschild, author of King Leopold’s Ghost and Bury the Chains, and expert on building social movements.  He explained that every successful social movement has no more than 3 or 4 key “asks”/ levers to address the issue. Think “Ban Apartheid” or “Abolish Slavery”.

I have some solid ideas, but no easy answers. So I ask you- I’d love your thoughts: What are the top 3 actionable “asks” or levers the grassroots should push for to solve the crisis in Congo?

Anyone? Anyone?

I’ll post my thoughts after others have a chance to share!

Ding, ding, ding, ding! It’s the hundred million dollar question.

The DR Congo is among the most mineral rich countries on the planet, with stores of more than 1,100 minerals, including diamonds, gold, copper, tin, cobalt, tungsten, and 15-20% of the world’s tantalum, otherwise known as coltan, an essential semi-conductor in electronics like cell phones, laptops, video games, and digital cameras. You likely have a chunk of Congo in your pocket.

The United Nations has accused all nations involved in the conflict as using the war as a cover for looting. How does it work?  Militias control territories that contain mines. The militias mine and export themselves, or “tax” locals who do the work for them. Everyone seems to be in on the action: Corrupt government officials who line their pockets through shady contracts; foreign militias; foreign governments who back militias; the Congolese government army; the Mai Mai and other home-grown militias; and of course, the Interahamwe, who control the majority of mines in South Kivu. In a few cases, even UN soldiers. The New York Times ran a report by Lydia Polgreen in December 2008, outlining such an operation, run by a renegade Congolese army brigade, who control a remote, mineral rich area, “master of every hilltop as far as the eye can see.” Unchallenged, they employ locals at ultra-low wages to mine, block all paths, and lug loads of ore via remote forest trails- as far as 30 miles- to the nearest road, where the goods are trucked to a stretch of road that serves as a landing strip for Soviet-era cargo planes, who fly them to Goma or out of Congo.  How much does a guy make carving out his own slice of this pie? One official estimates $300,000 to $600,000 in “taxes” alone.  This operation is estimated to be worth as much as $80 million a year.

The goods are illegally exported to countries like Rwanda or Uganda, who in turn ship them to processing plants, primarily in Asia. Eventually, large corporations buy them and distribute these conflict riches around the world in the form of our favorite consumer goods: diamond engagement rings, Sony Playstations waiting under the Christmas tree, that sleek, new MacBook Air, or our ever-precious Crack-berries.

According to The Enough Project, in 2008 alone, armed groups will have made $185 million from illegal trade of Congo’s minerals. Rwanda, Uganda, and Burundi, as well as Congolese government officials, have made hundreds of millions of dollars off of the Congo plunder. For instance, in the first half of 2008, Rwanda’s primary tin mine will produce about five tons per month.  Yet, in the same period Rwanda will report 2,679 tons in tin exports.  According to UN reports, when Rwanda seized control of eastern Congo in the late 1990’s, they smuggled hundreds of millions of dollars worth of coltan, cassiterite, and diamonds to Rwanda.  The New York Times quotes one Rwandan government official, “I used to see generals at the airport coming back from Congo with suitcases full of cash.”

But rebel groups can only control the minerals if they control the territory. And they can only control the territory if they control the people. And there is one age-old way to control the people: terror.  As one Harvard researcher puts it, there seems to be a “competition among armed groups to be the most brutal.”

We can stop the atrocities in Congo if we stop the gravy train fueling the conflict. Log onto the Enough Project website and send a message to 21 of the top electronics companies letting them know you support Conflict free electronics. It takes about a minute. Then reach out to your friends and ask them to do the same.

http://www2.americanprogress.org/t/1659/campaign.jsp?campaign_KEY=6265

After countless hours in South Kivu interviewing hundreds of women on “the trouble they got from war”, I have to say, the play was dead accurate.  Consistent. This is remarkable, considering the playwright conducted her research in refugee camps in Uganda, many hundreds of miles north of South Kivu where I spent my time. But the stories were the same, the horror painfully common, despite the vast geographical expanse.  Nothing in the play was new or shocking.  For women to be “ruined” in identical fashion over such a wide ranging area, at the hands of different militias (which the playwright kept vague, I presume intentionally) means despite Congo’s chaos, the terror is clearly systematic.

The acting was near perfect, the story compelling, but my reaction was a surprise even to me.  I’ve been absorbing these stories for years, and for the most part I’ve been fine.  But the show was unexpectedly painful.  I sensed it as the play ended on a poignant, hopeful note, and everyone gathered their things and exited the theater.  The actors stood outside greeting guests.  For a second, I thought of saying hello and congratulating them.  Then I realized I couldn’t, no more than I could indulge my friends in a post-performance rehash of the show.  It was too real.  So real it stirred something in me that has been brewing over the last few weeks. I made a beeline for the elevator. I knew if I opened my mouth, it would not be able to hold back tears.  And crying in public is just not done in DC.  So I just shut up, or changed the subject, avoided eye contact, and got out of there.

Bonus: Eye of the Tiger. Survivor.  Okay, it’s silly. That’s why it didn’t make the list.  But it is the best overall workout song ever, and you know it.  Put it in the mix, just for fun.  You’ll get many miles out of this golden oldie.

10. Masters Of War. Pearl Jam recording of this Bob Dylan classic. No one says it quite like Bob.  This one goes out to all the mining executives, all the guys making serious cash off the conflict.  Apropos, for sure, but it’s further down the list because it’s angry- a great motivator and will help you log some serious mileage, but ultimately anger will only carry you so far. (By the way, no, I don’t hope they die.  I usually scroll to the next song when I hit the final verse.)

Come you masters of war…./You fasten all the triggers/ For the others to fire/ Then you set back and watch/ While the death count gets higher/ Then you hide in your mansion/ While the young people’s blood/ Flows out of their bodies/ And is buried in the mud

9. What a Feeling. Irene Cara. Nevermind the fact Flashdance was my very favorite movie when I was 8 (yes, my parents were that liberal.)  It’s the story of starting run for Congo Women!

First when there’s nothing but a slow glowing dream/ That your fear seems to hide deep inside your mind…/ Take your passion!  Make it happen!

8. Alina. Arvo Part. Sometimes on a long run, blood pumping music feels like it’s mocking your pain.  Sometimes you need some music that slows you down and helps you Zen-out. This stunning piece was written as a prayer, and always make me feel like I’m floating.

7. The Campfire Song. 10,000 Maniacs.  Let’s be real. It’s about the money.  This one is a little more compassionate than the Dylan.

A lie to say, “O my mountain has coal veins and beds to dig/ 500 men with axes and they all dig for me.”/ A lie to say, “O my mine gave a diamond as big as a fist.”/ But with every gem in his pocket, the jewels he has missed. (I always think of Congolese kids- the real treasure)/ A lie to say “O my forest has trees that block the sun/ and when I cut them down I don’t answer to anyone.”/ No, no, never will he believe that his greed is a blinding ray./ No devil or redeemer can cheat him./ He’ll take his gold where he’s lying cold./ A lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely man.

6. I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. U2.  I think about my Congolese sisters when I hear this one.  Until there’s stability in Congo, yes, I’m still running.

I have climbed highest mountain/ I have run through the fields/ Only to be with you./ I have run/ I have crawled/ I have scaled these city walls/ These city walls/ Only to be with you/ But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for/ Yes, I’m still running.

5. Africa Unite. Bob Marley and the Wailers.  As soon as I landed in the Nairobi Airport, I got it. Bob Marley is the soundtrack of Africa.  My driver Serge had a bootlegged tape we listened to- among the favorites were Redemption Songs, One Drop, and of course War.  But this one we looped more times that I can say, driving up and down the gutted streets of Bukavu.  How good and how pleasant it would be, indeed.  Play it again, Serge!

Africa unite!  Cause your children want to go home./ How good and how pleasant it would be/ Before God and man/ To see the unification of all Africans/ As it’s been said let it be done/ I tell you who we are under the sun.

4. War on War. Wilco. I listened to this song non-stop, psyching myself up while prepping for my first trip to Congo. Walk through the flaming doors.  Feel the burn.

Walk through the flaming doors./ You have to lose./ You have to learn how to die/ If you wanna be alive./ It’s a war on war.

3. Survivor. Destiny’s Child.  Oooh.  The next time you think about hopping off the treadmill a few minutes pre-goal, flip this one on.  There will be no stopping you.

I’m a survivor, I’m not gonna give up/ I’m not gonna stop, I’m gonna work harder/ I’m a survivor, I’m gonna make it/ I will survive, Keep on survivin’

2.  Sunday Bloody Sunday. U2. It’s a battle cry.  Whew. This one will get you through many a steep incline.  It’s the best.  A close tie for number one.

I can’t believe the news today/ Oh, I can’t close my eyes and make it go away/ How long, how long must we sing this song?/ How long? How long?/ ’Cause tonight we can be as one, tonight/ Sunday, Bloody Sunday/ And it’s true we are immune when fact is fiction and TV reality/ And today the millions cry/ We eat and drink while tomorrow they die

[But you aren’t eating and drinking. You are Running for Congo Women!  You go girl! (or guy!)]

1. Change. Tracy Chapman. My number one Run for Congo Women song of all time. Still gives me chills, everytime.  Life is so short. Change.

If you knew that you would die today/ If you saw the face of God and love (cute Congolese kids faces here)/ Would you change?/ How bad, how good does it need to get? (Seriously.)/ How many losses? How much regret? (5.4 million….)/ What chain reaction? What cause and effect?/ Makes you turn around?/ Makes you change?

But when you log as many hours on the trail as I have, nothing gives you a boost like a new song. I’d LOVE your suggestions. Please post them here!