I have returned to Bukavu almost a year to the day after I visited on my first trip to the DRC. One of the most unforgettable parts of my trip last year was a day I spent in the field with Ida Sawyer, senior researcher for HRW based in Goma. Ida and I traveled by car about an hour outside of Goma, along Lake Kivu to the village of Minova. We went there to visit a woman, Masika, who runs a "listening center" for girls and women who have been raped. When I visited last year, the center was possibly at its worst moment, with no financial assistance and about 20 women and 30 children living in conditions that resembled an IDP (internally displaced persons) camp without aid.
During our stay there, Ida took testimony from eight girls and women who shared their tragic stories, all raped, all now with children, many watching family members die, all with that look of hopelessness in their eyes and a sorrow I had never seen.
One of the girls we took testimony from was Desange. She was a 16 year old girl who had no family to return to and had a son, Gaylor, who was now three. She had so much anger and pain. She was so forceful in telling her story and sharing her frustration. I'll never forget how her voice raised as she went on in the most justified brilliant rant, saying that her life was nothing and she would never have the opportunity to have a fiancé, or go to school, or get a good job, that she was doomed and it was wrong. Her life had been stolen from her at age 13. She was living a life totally denied of basic human rights. When we asked her if we could help her, what would she want, she said, "Only one thing: I want to go to school. I want to get an education. I want to fight for justice but no one will listen to you in this country unless you are educated. If I could go to school, I would study law. I would fight for justice for myself and people like me in this country." It deserves an exclamation mark at the end of her statement, but I try to limit my use of those when writing. But put it there and re-read her statement.
Shortly after I left last February, Desange was back in school. And she barreled through finishing up her high school exams. She's so bright and it shows in her eyes, her voice, and occasionally her smile. A few months ago, I got an email from Ida that Desange was accepted at the University of Bukavu and would be moving there and starting her freshman year. So one of the highlights of my trip would be to visit her in Bukavu.
I darted off from graduation at the City of Joy, missing a visit to Panzi Hospital with the rest of my colleagues. As tempting as Panzi was, and even more so spending time with Dr. Mukwege, nothing would matter to me more than seeing this young lady who's photo graces my home, my office, my desk, my heart. She was in Bukavu at University and I could have plucked her out of a huge crowd. Her face I see in my mind every day.
I rode with Thomas and Bingi. (Bingi is a 25 year old woman from Goma who studied law and works for HRW. She has stayed close to Desange and helped her get everything sorted for university and talks and texts with her on a regular basis to give encouragement. The staff of HRW is beyond exceptional in every single way. More on them later.) The drive started on Essence Road. At some point along the way we left that road and, for a new experience, I was on a somewhat paved road in Bukavu. We made a left turn and were climbing a hill on a road carved out of lush jungle. As we climbed up the road I started to see young adults with backpacks hanging off one shoulder walking down the hill. College students. Wow. We were on campus. The university sits at the top of the hill and is surrounded by lush jungle. Once parked, I saw a girl in cream colored corduroys and a cream and brown sweater running toward Bingi, who had jumped out of the car. It was Desange. The two of them hugged for what seemed to be five minutes. The smile on Desange's face. She is forever changed.
She took us to her dorm room, right on campus. I'm EXTREMELY happy about that. Safety. She shares her room with five girls. There are three sets of bunk-beds in the room and a table that serves as a full kitchen. On the walls, they have hung posters; it looks much like a dorm room my kids would share, except for the cooking area. These girls have to haul all their own water into the room, and several large yellow jerry cans are present. They have one hotplate they use for cooking and they take turns preparing food. The table is covered with a variety of colored plastic bowls of all sizes. They are not your Tupperware, but they get tons of use and serve their purpose. Their diet is almost solely rice and beans. My kids should never complain about dorm food again.
I see a flashlight next to each bed – it gets dark up here when the power goes out. Her roommates are all present and I meet them all. Four are from Congo and one from Burundi. All are much older than Desange, who is now 17 and will be 18 on April 14th. She must be one of the youngest students on campus. We take many photos, which I plan to send to her, and then we head off to have a tour of campus.
Desange shows me a lecture hall, about half the size of an elementary school gymnasium, which is filled with long wooden benches. The hall holds up to 500 students for lectures. All of her classes are taught in French. She is working on her English, too. We wander in and out of some other classrooms and then go for a photo beside the main entrance to campus.
Desange looks AMAZING, and I can hardly believe where she is now and where she was one year ago. We hop in the car to go to the Orchid Hotel for a bite to eat, and I have brought a piece of luggage jammed full of goodies for her. We shared a couple very touching moments going through the case. Linda in my office back home sent along a laptop in ship shape that could serve Desange for years to come. She jumped up and down with excitement. But the gift that shook me most was the bundle of products that will allow her not to miss school for a week each month. She fell to her knees in my room, dropped her head and cried. What could be more important to a 17 year old with such high aspirations than not to miss school?
We shared a wonderful meal together at the Orchid. She ordered steak and fries and with her tiny little frame got half way through it; then we packed the rest and all other leftovers for her to take back to her dorm room. We looked at hundreds of photos on my iPad. We worked on her English and my French. By about 7pm, all my fellow travelers came back from Panzi, and everyone got to meet Desange. Erin gave her a raincoat and umbrella. Gina gave her rainboots. Frannie spoke to her at length in French. Everyone took photos of her or with her. I don't know who was on a bigger high.
She is doing so well in her classes and works so hard. Her youthful brain is like a sponge. She could repeat back beautifully and remember everything I pointed out in English. She has such fueled desire. We talked about her son, Gaylor, now 4 years old, being looked after by Masika. I will see him on Monday and show him photos of his mother on my iPhone. She tries to visit once a month.
HRW arranges everything, and at about 7:30 I see Desange off in a Landcruiser that will take her right to her dorm room. A driver that will carry her heavy bag and backpack. I promise to send photos of her when I get home. She is beautiful in every single way. I will enjoy watching her and checking in on her and have no doubt she will at some point travel to the US and stay with Harry and me in our home. I cannot wait.
With Desange off, we now load into cars to head to CoCo Lodge for our final dinner with our V-Day family and Eve.
Dinner was delicious and the conversation filling. There are so many highlights on this trip and moments I will never forget. Meeting Taylor, a filmmaker; our paths had crossed before but we had never met. We went around the table one night introducing ourselves and sharing our tie with Eve and V-Day, and it came to Taylor's turn. He is a handsome man with a full head of loose brown curls and kind eyes – a 30-something documentarian. No sooner did he say his name then his eyes began to well. He has been to some tough places and has been working for the past year on a film about the City of Joy. He talked about V-Day and Eve and the gifted photographer, Paula Allen. He said that this work had really opened his eyes to what humanity requires if it is to survive. How this work gives his life meaning. He paid the deepest tribute to Paula, whose shadow he is proud to stand in. As the tears streamed down his cheeks, someone handed him a tissue. He looked at it and said "No thank you. I think I will do as the Native Americans do. I will let the tears dry on my cheeks." We all fell in love with Taylor that night. God how much emotional creatures love the company of other emotional creatures.
The most memorable moment for me at dinner this night was a conversation with Paula Allen. I had been telling Paula and Taylor and Tony (a fellow filmmaker) about Desange and her story and the reunion we had just shared. Paula commented that when people will hear she is traveling to the Congo, they will say to her when she comes back, "You must need down time, time to adjust...." She said she never needs time to adjust and I must be the same. We live in this world all the time. We don't forget it nor do we leave it. No desire, no need to adjust. How lucky we are that we have found people like those at City of Joy and Masika and Desange. How much fuller our lives are because of these relationships. These are people of such strength and ability to survive. They teach us so much about how to live.
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