Africa… There is a feeling in the air unlike any other on this earth – places where it feels as though with every breath, you are standing at the very beginning of creation. The beginning of time… Africa… The land rich, fertile, green, and at its core is the soul of its people. They drive the land. Beautiful people. Gracious people. Gracious children, gracious women, for when they look at you, their eyes never leave you. There is no guile, only the wisdom of their truth. Their eyes speak their stories, and in that moment with them, they demand the same of you. They demand your story, they demand your truth…

To write of this is not easy. Here in Goma, it is a world unto itself. War-torn, shantytown shacks line whatever passes for roads, rows stretching from the street deep into the hills. Some are thatched, some wooden with aluminum roofs, all with curtains as makeshift doors, during the day the thin fabric billowing in the African breeze. Each grouping of huts forms a manyatta, in Swahili, a village, and in the center of the manyatta, the children play. They run to the roadside following our cars, smiling, waving, calling out to us, “Jambo Muzungus!” Hello whites. The smiles of these children light this world, and today I think they light the entire world. The poverty here is extreme, the need is great. There is so much to be done, it is overwhelming. There is bombardment here of sight and sound, as we make our drives over deeply pitted, gutted, roads, the rich oranges and browns of the womens’ kangas (wraps), becoming a part of the earth. In this Congo world, the people have a deep connection to the land. Their land. Just as we Jews have connection to our own ha’aretz. They rise with the sun, and sleep with the moon, and in between there is an order to their lives, in the seemingly structureless fiber of their days…

From the land to the markets, to carrying heavy bundles of straw and raw sugar cane on their heads, this is the market business they make, and when visitors come to their villages, they sing and dance their Karibou – their welcome. In a circle, the women dance together, flying with pure joy from the music, and as each sister is pulled into their circle, hearts open wide to receive each other’s blessings. We become closer, as one… Here the women carry the homes and families. This is their culture. In Congolese life, it is the woman who keeps things together. She is the strong one. She works the fields. She cooks the meals and tends the home, as she gives life and love to their children – all of this not far from the tapestry of our Jewish lives… Men are not allowed in this circle, and so it was while dancing on the side of a hill, in a small field in the village in Sake, in this small piece of land, bought for them by Jewish World Watch, that our womens’ hearts crossed culture and place, and the distance of time. Congolese women and Jewish women together dancing, sharing the music of our souls… Sister Africa – Sister Jew…