JWW IN CONGO

John Fishel - Looking Back on Congo

Thu, 06 Oct 2011 20:44:00 +0200

It has been almost two years since my last visit to Africa. Traveling a second time with Jewish World Watch has been something I looked forward to doing since 2009. Having been involved with the organization almost since the beginning has been a privilege. During the past two weeks I have pondered what I could write that would be meaningful and express why I believe support of the organization is so essential for members of the Jewish community. I have refrained from writing a blog because the experiences of this trip to Rwanda and Congo have been very emotional and again because my fellow travelers have so eloquently expressed what we have seen and done. When I began this piece, I was sitting in the location of the film” Hotel Rwanda” in Kigali, capital of the country where a genocide and world inaction in 1994 created a catastrophe. We were prepared to depart for home.I thought it was time to witness what I saw and heard , to add my voice.

I have found myself both depressed and exhilarated during this visit to Africa. While visiting Ntara in Rwanda,the site of a mass atrocity during the 1994 genocide, I had the feeling I was being watched. Standing in a former church where hundreds were massacred I looked over my shoulder at a row of skulls of the victims, many with enormous fractures and even missing parts, a tangible memory of the violent genocide. Strangely, I felt that they were staring at me; although I knew this was impossible since the eyes of the murdered Africans had long ago ceased to exist.

I began to realize that I was here once again to listen, to observe and to testify about what I would hear and experience in the neighboring Congo where genocide continues. It would be through my eyes and ears that I would internalize the horror and the hope, in order to share it upon my return.

What I had not expected was that situation was even more complex in the Democratic Republic of Congo than I experienced two years ago. Yes the wars and anarchy continue, as well as the daily rape of thousands of girls and women. It is a challenge to a nation which lacks even the basic elements of civil society , a nation dealing with the enormous burden of thousands of orphaned children, a nation struggling to rescue abducted children and return them to live in a society that distrusts and fears them; and most challenging a nation struggling to change a traditional society where male female relations are not based on mutual affection and support but on old paradigms where women are beasts of burden, whose daily lives are grinding reflected in pain and suffering in their eyes.

Suddenly I realized that it was by looking into the eyes of the living,those we met that I would answer the question of what kind of place Congo is and could actually become. I would also begin to define the role we ,as Jews, could play in this almost overwhelming reality.

The eyes often told a story of despair and even horror. Yet they also can tell a story of strength and sometimes hope.

Looking through my own eyes once again I had difficulty resolving the magnificent natural beauty of this part of Africa with the lush mountains and volcanos surrounding Lake Kivu , with the daily degradation people experience living in shanty towns where people play the role of pack animals, much as our own people did in Biblical times. Looking out the windows of the vehicle in which we rode, I saw children dressed in filthy rags playing in gutters filled with waste. Young women carried the ubiquitous Plastic yellow cans often for miles to fill them with fetid water to continue to bring life. Their eyes sometimes reflected resignation to a fate where simple luxuries do not exist.

The impact of a colonial past that ruined such a beautiful place, is combined with over 40 years of a failed dictatorship ,constant wars,anarchy and even natural disasters. I saw exhaustion in the eyes of the men using pick axes to cut thick black volcanic stone which fills Goma the second largest city in Eastern Congo ; a constant reminder of a volcanic eruption that almost destroyed the place seven years ago. Could things get any worse?

The answer was yes. Walking into the prison in the same city of Goma to meet prisoners and explore the possibility of changing the behavior of rapists and murders was an experience I will never forget. Peering into their eyes I saw tragedy, hatred, uncontrolled anger, violence and sometimes fear. 1200 men kept in conditions which would best be described as medieval. I wondered what could actually make a difference for these perpetrators of crimes against humanity, victims of a society out of control? I am sure my own eyes reflected discomfort and disbelief as I watched the men crowd around our group of white visitors and wonder why we were there.

Later upstairs in a small meeting with some of the prisoners ,their eyes beseeched us while stating there own innocence. Looking into the eyes of an American educated Congolese women who with her husband has established a program to begin to change the culture of violence among the men of Congo, I noticed a sense powerless. When some of the men in attendance dismissed the daily violence against women which is endemic in this country, her eyes filled with tears.

The roller coaster of emotions accelerated as the first week of our visit ended. The eyes of boys and teens, some as young as ten years old, who had been kidnapped and served as child soldiers for a number of militia groups were enormously disturbing. Their eyes were seemingly dead, devoid of emotion. When emotions were reflected in their eyes they were of suspicion and deeply troubled. Of course,only when realizing that these young men and boys may have seen their parents killed, their young friends shot and themselves subjected to daily humiliation did I realize again the depth of the work that needs to be done with these severely damaged youngsters.

Fortunately there are local community groups that have taken on the task of rehabilitation. And it was in the eyes of those who the JWW supports and touches that we noticed glints of optimism.

The women in our Safe Motherhood project dancing and smiling, their eyes sparkling withe joy, as we visited the program where a cooperative effort in a rural village development has brought a livelihood and hope for a better future through micro lending. The determination in the eyes of a group of ministers who debated their role as leaders in a civil society impressed me. The pride in the eyes of the participants in the Women to Women program where those once with no hope are learning to be cooks, ceramists, beauticians, and other occupations. The excitement in the eyes of two young men who participate in a young leadership group and who shared their dreams with visitors from Los Angeles made me smile.Their exuberance made me believe JWW can make a difference.

The tenacious look in the eyes of a young American Jewish physician who with his wife is giving a year of their lives to heal and prevent AIDS in children, gave me enormous pride in being part of a people who cares. He spoke emphatically about making a difference.

The trip left me understanding once again why the JWW is in Congo and Darfur, Sudan. We as Jews have been commanded to improve the world not only our own world but the worlds of strangers. For many Congolese meeting American Jews , the ancestors of the people of the Old Testament was a surprise. We come with a message of hope and a promise of assistance.

Returning to Los Angeles, I felt exhausted emotionally and physically. Images crowded my mind and appeared in my dreams. Standing in front of the mirror I peered into my own eyes. Looking back I saw they were blurry from lack of sleep. My face slightly thinner then I when I left. But most importantly I saw in my own eyes the urgency of sharing these experiences , to try to articulate the sometimes unimaginable and most importantly explain why doing nothing is not an option. As we celebrate the New Year remember that we are commanded:Justice,Justice, shall you pursue!

Join us through the mitzvah of tzedekeh.

Ben's amazing photos of the journey...

Mon, 03 Oct 2011 19:26:03 +0200

Ben's amazing photos of the journey...

Janice Kamenir-Reznik- Coming Home: A New Year, A New Resolve, A New Congo

Tue, 27 Sep 2011 21:48:00 +0300

I am exhausted, having just completed the two day journey from Congo back to Los Angeles. My heart and mind are full of the people we met. The images of the women in the village welcoming us with joyful song and dance parade through my thoughts, as do the women laying in their hospital beds trying to recover from their fistula surgeries.

I see the courtyard full of orphans and abandoned children and I see the eyes of more than 100 little boys who had been forced into militia service. I even am carrying with me the shocking scene we encountered when we visited the prison containing hundreds of criminals, including rapists.

It is undeniable that the suffering which has been endured by the people we met is astounding. But, even with all of these haunting images dancing in my head, what overpowers those images is the resolve of the Congolese community to overcome victimization. The people with whom we met are working diligently to begin the difficult process of recovery and rebirth. We saw many signs of hope on this trip, and met many outstanding Congolese men and women who have immersed themselves in the business of bringing change to Congo. I am thrilled with the JWW-supported programs we saw, and we come home with so many more ideas of how to be supportive of the forces for positive movement there.

I cannot complete my blog entries without a word about my incredible JWW travel mates. Most days we began our work at 7 am and did not complete our last meetings until late into the evening. Each day we had multiple meetings all of which took tremendous concentration and energy. To a person, everyone on the team asked probing questions, engaged in important conversations and critical analysis, and brought intelligent, empathic attitudes and ideas to the table. I am grateful for the dedication of each of my fellow travelers, and to the entire JWW community for having the empathy and the generosity to embark on this journey.

Like all other Jewish women around the globe this week, I now turn to preparing my family’s Rosh Hashanah meal. I will have the time this week and next to continue to process all that I have experienced and from those experiences I will enter this New Year with new resolve and a renewed spirit for the work we are doing to improve the world.

Shana Tova!

May Our Good Deeds Be As Plentiful As The Seeds Of A Pomegranate!

Jewish World Watch- Thoughts on Our Journey

Tue, 27 Sep 2011 20:50:00 +0300

This journey to the Congo has not been easy. Not physically. Not mentally. And certainly not emotionally. There is so much to be done, it becomes overwhelming. I can understand the burnout that occurs among relief workers, and NGOs. Sustaining oneself during this process is as important as caring for others, and few really develop the staying power to last over years. It’s tough. Really tough. The bad days are horrible, and the milder days carry a sadness of their own.

The worst part of this for me, has been meeting the child soldiers, wondering who they might have been had they not been taken. What gives anyone the right to ‘take,’ another human being? To ‘take,’ a child? To stop a life? To kill a spirit? No one has that right. And yet, it is happening every day, and few will be able to stop it.

I learned of Jewish World Watch several years ago, when my synagogue became involved in the solar cooker project in Darfur. People were deeply touched by it. Touched by the fact that the simple act of gathering firewood targeted women and children for abduction and rape. In order for a woman to cook a meal for her family, she had to leave the safety of her camp, and subject herself to great danger. This moved our Jewish community, and mobilized them into action. It was a groundswell movement that built a momentum of its own, and grew the organization. The beauty of Jewish World Watch is that its roots are in community. It was born in community, and it cares for community. Community is an important word for us as Jews. It holds particular meaning, because so much of our own community has been lost over the years, either to inquisition, pogrom, shoah, atrocities or genocide. It was Martin Buber who admonished Jews in his teachings, not to separate ourselves out from the community. For us, community is everything. Havurah. Chevruta. Chevre. Different words, same heart. Community. And so in the Congo, it is about community, and the work that Jewish World Watch does on the ground, is extraordinary. As much as we can hear or read about their work, it pales next to witnessing the effects of it.

We have seen projects that have been funded by Jewish World Watch, some as simple as providing a small piece of land for a village community of women to farm, as part of the safe motherhood program, in conjunction with Heal Africa. To us it may seem minimal, but to them, it is the world. That land provides them with income, and enables them to care for their children. It affords them safe births, and proper medical care, and from the output of their fields, they can feed their families. Some of these villages are extremely remote. It can take days, perhaps a week, to walk into Goma from these hills. For the people of these villages, it may as well be a lifetime. It is the same all through this region, as Jewish World Watch deepens its roots here in Eastern Congo…

The projects that Jewish World Watch funds, are giving the women back their dignity and pride. This we have seen. They are becoming self sufficient. They are learning how to save and grow their money. They are able to build small houses, and their children are now going to school. Simple , yes? To us, perhaps, but to the Congolese, this can be the difference between death and survival. The simplest of acts in the DRC, takes on a meaning all its own.

If I have learned anything from this trip, it is that the important work here isn’t just about the women, but rather, it is as much about the men and the boys. The culture of the Congo is changing. You can feel it in the air. They are in the midst of a paradigm shift that may take generations to fully realize, but to be here for the beginning of it, is moving beyond description. We speak a great deal about the rapes and the abductions, and the brutalization and torture of the women and children, but we know little of the men. The perpetrators of these war crimes have a specific face, but the men who father the children and marry the women, are faceless to the world. It is common to see the women working the fields, and walking the roads carrying heavy sacks of bricks and stones on their backs. For this they get paid little, if they can get the employer to pay them at all, yet still they work to bring in whatever possible. But what of the men? What of the men who have been rendered almost irrelevant by this society? Too many are jobless. Too many feel the effects of the devastation of the conflict. Too many abuse their wives, and too many try to keep their daughters down. Too many. Too many. Too many…

Jewish World Watch has given funding to ‘Sons of Congo,’ for their ‘listening project,’ a pilot program created solely for the men of the Congo. It was the program in the prison in Goma, and in several of the villages among the Pastors, each having many disciples. In a short time, this program has grown from a few, to hundreds of men. This is the work that teaches men who they really are, and how much more they can be. With this program, there comes a shift in the consciousness of their society. Nothing in the Congo can – or will – change, unless there is a change in the men, and I think that sometimes we forget. That Jewish World Watch is playing a part in all this, is extraordinary. In the groups, the men are by no means, ‘there,’ yet. They have a long, LONG, way to go, but it is a step. It is a beginning. An important beginning. Imagine if this had happened years ago, how many women and children would have been spared their anguish and torture. Imagine how different their lives would have been, and how these boys taken as soldiers would have thrived in their world, and what they might have become. While they still will ‘become,’ there is a part of them that has been destroyed, and in all likelihood, will never be brought back to life. This is the work of Jewish World Watch, through their partners on the ground, and through the generosity and compassion of our Jewish community.

In our time in the Congo, we have seen not only the projects that Jewish World currently funds, but candidate projects for potential funding, some more urgent than others, but all worthy. The impact that Jewish World Watch has made in a short period of time, takes my breath away.

As difficult and challenging as things are in the Congo now, I cannot imagine what they would have been like, if Jewish World Watch had not been a presence there. And then I realize that Jewish World Watch isn’t separate from us – it is who we are as a community. It was built on the strength and vision of Rabbi Schulweis and Janice Kamenir Reznick, and continues because we are all there together. We understand community, and we reach out to community. As we stood together at Sinai, may we continue to stand as one, and reach out to the rest of the world, and may there come a day when there is no longer the need for the work of Jewish World Watch. At least not in this form, and not for these reasons. This has been a powerful, powerful, experience, and it will take some time for me to process it. I’m not sure that I will ever fully be able to process all of it, nor will I understand the impact this has had on me, for quite some time. As we near Rosh Hashana, and the yomim tovim, I say my prayers for peace, and I pray that we all may be inscribed, and that the coming year holds only blessings for us all…

Pascal Bashombama- Thank You JWW and Together We Hope Peace Will Come Soon

Tue, 27 Sep 2011 20:48:00 +0300

At around 7:00 pm on September 13^th, I was at the airport in Kigali. I had driven there from my home in Goma, DRC to wait for the people I had never seen but had heard about. Suddenly a lady came up to me because I had a logo of JWW on a piece of paper I was holding. She said “You should be Pascal” with a smile on her face; the whole JWW team was behind her.

We introduced ourselves to one another; I was impressed that everyone was smiling despite the distance they travelled and fatigue they must have felt. We walked for a minute to join the car and drove to the hotel where they were supposed to spend a night before heading into DRC. We unexpectedly had to spend couple hours in Kigali trying to fix the car.

The ride from Kigali, Rwanda to Goma, DRC took four hours, while it should have taken only 3 hours. We drove all afternoon and got to Goma after dark. That night, we sat around a table to discuss the schedule for the next few days. We would be visiting local organizations in Goma town and in the countryside. Everyone was eager to see the programs that JWW has been funding.

The first day in Goma we visited Safe Mother hood in the village named Kirotche. The welcome was warm. All the women were very happy to receive their supporters from abroad. They were singing a song of joy, smiles on their faces and they were dancing. No one could tell that these woman were suffering. They had gathered together, from different tribes and from different villages, to share the same goals of fighting injustice and inequality.

When the singing stopped, the JWW team was taken into a small room with many of the village women and the JWW was introduced to these women. The spokesman was a woman, Janice. I was outside the entrance of the room, and saw Janice stand up and say in Swahili “ Jambo”, meaning Hello! All the woman were happy and responded “Jambo sana” (like Hello to you too!) The first words Janice said was “ We represent the Jewish community of America and we’re in Congo to listen to you and hear from you all the problems and injustice you’re facing in this country.”

All the women were quiet because they have suffered a lot. Their suffering was not because they are not able to work and feed their families, but because there is no peace in their villages, and because no one is listening to their voice. The women of Congo have been slaves to their own community—to their husbands and to the authorities.

I was little bit stressed to realize the huge task this JWW team had in front of them. I was also stressed about the risk the team took to travel in different villages in Goma and in Bukavu, where they have heard testimonies from different victims of rape, child soldiers, street children, orphans from Aids, displaced people, abandoned children and so many other terrible cases in the countryside. The vision of all these people JWW meet with was to improve their lives. Wherever the team went to meet with any group or community they were asked, “Why are you here?”; the team always looked at each other before responding, and the leader was every time responding, “We are here to listen to your voices, sharing experience, and see if in the near future we can help.”

I think all the team was shocked to see how people on this side of Atlantic are suffering, spiritually, physically, morally and materially. Building local organizational capacity in Congo is the should be the business of everyone in the local communities. JWW saw many NGO’s who are doing that. We kept visiting local NGO’s; each one in the team was impressed by the work the community is doing without funds. I kept imagining, together with the JWW team members, how much more could be accomplished with more funds.

I hope we can see changes in DRC. Local NGO’s typically do not sit together and discuss our problems here in DRC. We also do not sit together to share work experiences and strategies. JWW had to meet with so many different local organizations from different villages, tribes, even though all are fighting the same cause. JWW can unite us; in Bukavu, the team called a dinner where many organizations came together to share information. They helped us get to know each other told me one participant in the meeting I hope this will not be the last time JWW will bring people together to discuss the problems regarding the future of our generations here in Congo.

It was so amazing to me to work with people who devote their time, to listen to communities. The JWW participated in the activities of the groups they met with. They shared same food and really took the time to hear the voices of Congo. I hope that JWW will keep sending teams from thousands of miles away to this county torn by the war and injustice DRC. Together we hope peace will come soon.

Pascal Bashombana

Stephanie Liss- Bukavu

Tue, 27 Sep 2011 20:40:00 +0300

Child Soldiers - Another woman’s perspective…

“… Are you mother…?”, he asked me, as he moved his arms across his chest as though rocking a baby. There were six boys together, and each of them called out to me, “ mother…?” Sadly, I told them ,”No. I am not.” And as sad as I was to say those words, even sadder were they to hear them. “Mother,” was a word they had not spoken in a very long time. For some, a word they had all but forgotten.

Their faces fell, these boys who had been held captive – prisoner – of the armed militias in the Congo, for they had been taken from their families, some when they were no older than seven. Seven years old… Babies… The details were different, but their stories were the same. On their way home from school, they had been abducted by the militias. No warning. No advance. Just the simple, everyday act of walking home from school, and their lives and the lives of their families, had been forever changed. Nothing would ever be the same again. Not the way in which they viewed the world, and certainly not the way the world viewed them. In the younger eyes, there was still the glimmer of hope, but in the eyes of the older boys – in the older boys’ eyes…

We were at the center, a center that rescues boys from the armed militias. The conditions were horrible, but for them, it has become home, and the man who runs it is, ‘Papa.’ Men in the Congo are called “Papa,’ as the women are called, “Mama,’ but for them to call him “Papa,’ was something much more. Much deeper. For these boys, he is truly “Papa,” and perhaps the only papa they will ever know again. He risks his life for them, day after day. His work is dangerous, and he is under constant threat. There are no specifics as to how he runs his rescue operations, and the little I do know, I won’t say publicly, but he performs his miracles daily. When he is not negotiating or bringing back the boys himself, his center is the drop off for them. When they are found, he is the destination. There are approximately 150 boys living together. They come from different tribes, have been abducted by different militia groups, and once together, they all must learn to live with each other in peace. That is a condition of being there. They are barely socialized. For some, the militia and the unspeakable abuse they endured, is the only life they remember. They are hardened. Cold. And they carry a rage that seethes beneath the surface. It is that rage that carries them, and it is that rage that can often define them. Some of them will be reunited with their families, while others will never see their loved ones, again. When you speak to them, they come alive. When you turn away, they withdraw, their faces becoming set, their eyes vacant. Some of them have formed a band, and yet even when they play their instruments, and drum and dance, they are not fully present. Even when singing, there is a distance about them, as though caught between two worlds – the world of the captive, and the world of the free…

In my brief interaction with these boys, I longed to have more time with them. I had so many questions, but even in our q and a exchange with them, they were monitored. There are dossiers on all of them, and there is danger for them. They are wanted by the militias, and they are feared by the people. For three months they will live at the center, and after that time, if their families are not found, or if they are not accepted back into their villages, they will spend at least another eight months in town in Bukavu, in apartments paid for by BVES, and they will continue their process of reentry. For them, this cannot be easy. Some of them were already orphans when they were taken, and others’ families were killed in front of them. For some, walking home from school of an afternoon, changed the course of their lives. For those who are not accepted back into their villages, it is a sad, lonely, road. I asked one of the younger boys, barely twelve, if he had seen his mother since he had been at the center, and his spirit sank, as he shook his head,’ no.’ So much sorrow, so much grieving. The age of a boy, the soul of a man. For these boys, acceptance may never come. The Congo is a society of blame. In the prison, everyone is innocent. In the villages, the men can’t find work, and so they blame their wives for making money. When a woman is raped, she has disgraced herself and her family, and when a child is ripped from his world and pulled into a life of guns and war, upon his return, he is shunned and feared. For the men, it is apparent that they are dealing with great shame. They are shamed that they cannot protect their wives and their children, and they are shamed by the face of their country. For these child soldiers in Bukavu, their lives are similar to those whom met met at Camme, in Goma.

Camme is a center that was started by our dear friend and translator, our driver, Pascale. Behind a fence, hidden away, he has created a haven for the children of the streets of Goma. At Camme, there is a mix of boys and girls, with the girls spending the night. The conditions are primitive, as they are at BVES, with no running water, and no electricity. There is no room for the boys to stay, and so at the end of the day, they leave to go back to sleep in the streets, yet Pascale knows where every one of those children is. He visits them in the street at night. He knows them all. And he is known as rafiki to them – he is known as ‘friend.’ And they respect him. He understands that to get through to them, he must befriend them, and to show them his trust , and they in turn adore him for it. A tall man, Pascale is a quiet presence who says little, yet sees all. He looks at a child, and knows their story. And his instincts are always right. There are child soldiers at Camme, as well, but no one knows who they are. Pascale holds their secrets. He knows when the girls are escaping from the rapes in the hills, and he protects them, bringing women counselors in to talk to them. If the girls won’t talk, he takes his time with them. A patient man, in time he learns everyone’s story, and moves accordingly. For the child soldiers who are at Camme, it is a safe haven, where no one but Pascale and the counselor knows their truth. If the others were to know, there would be violence. It wasn’t difficult to know who the child soldiers were at Camme – they stayed together, and were often uncontrolled. One of them was dressed in white, and as the others in our group went upstairs to see the girls’ bunks, I stayed behind to talk to the boys. They were woodworking, and we started with two boys together, but in a matter of seconds, I was surrounded. The street boys were more distant, more respectful, but the boys who had been the child soldiers had no sense of personal space. They grouped very closely around me, encircling me. The boy dressed in white was given to spontaneous outbursts, and wild laughter. And as quickly as the laughter began, so it would stop. It was unnerving. And as I found myself surrounded by the boys, I felt a twinge of fear. I imagined how it must have felt for the girls and the women, as they were bombarded by militia, and repeatedly raped and brutalized. I wondered how many of these same boys – both at Camme and at BVES, had been perpetrators, and what it must have felt for them to go that wild and feel that kind of rage exploding. If the eyes are the window to the soul, the eyes of these boys are the gates to their kingdoms. The horrors that are locked away inside, may never be exposed, and yet with these reentry and rehabilitation centers, and with enough time and love, perhaps….

There was a moment at Camme, when I first approached the only child soldier I had met until that moment. I had whispered the question to Pascale, whether any of these boyss had been child soldiers, and he nodded toward the boy in white. That boy in white – that wild, uncontrolled boy, so proud of the wood he was sanding and smoothing, standing alone, so solitary, lost in his work. As the others went upstairs, I decided to approach him, and when I spoke to him in my broken Swahili, he stopped his sanding, and stared at me, his eyes wide, scrutinizing me, and he asked,” Are you mother…?”, as he held his arms across his chest, as though rocking a baby. “Mother…?” It was the only question these boys had asked – all they wanted to know. And my heart broke into a million pieces…

Diana Buckhantz - Praying With Our Feet

Sat, 24 Sep 2011 19:59:00 +0300

We are on our way home. It has been an amazing trip. Throughout this trip, we have discussed the complexity of the problems here. It does seem as though Congo is in a better place than when we were her last time. It seems that there is less conflict although it is by no means over. The conversations between ourselves and with the organizations we have met revolve more around the evolution of the civil society. We discuss how to help Congo heal; how to change the culture that has allowed the atrocities to women and also to the boys; how to stop the impunity. Our conversations have been endless and will continue long after we are home. So many extraordinary Congolese people are working to reshape Congo and turn it into the country it could be. The work is slow but there are so many tiny organizations doing thoughtful and committed work. While each organization affects small groups of people, it is a start. And with the passion of these groups, I am certain the circles will expand and become concentric. As I leave here and reflect on the work that Jewish World Watch has done and will do in the future, I feel so grateful to be involved with an organization that cares so deeply and steps into the fray. As Rabbi Schulweis always says, “you must pray with your feet.” inspired by Rabbi Schulweis and led by Janice, we do.

Benjamin Arnow - Change Is In The Air

Sat, 24 Sep 2011 09:50:00 +0300

Tonight we fly home. Over the past two weeks I have heard so many stories of unimaginable pain and suffering from the people of Congo. I have also seen an incredible strength and determination to make things better. As a member and supporter of JWW for the past few years, this trip was an opportunity for me to put a face on the stories I had heard from afar. From the comfort of home. A chance to connect and see it for myself. A chance to really understand. As I said earlier, it is very difficult to explain the scale of the problems facing Congo since they are so complex and widespread, deeply rooted in the past. But the projects developed and funded by JWW are making an incredible difference in the lives of woman and children who have endured such hardship. Meeting the woman of JWW funded programs face to face (including Safe Motherhood, Healing Arts and the Animal Husbandry project) was deeply inspiring. These programs are making a big difference. These people need our help and it is our responsibility to make sure they get it. We cannot sit silent in the face of such tragedy. My commitment to the work of JWW is now stronger. I deeply admire the passion and dedication of Janice and the whole JWW team in taking the bold steps necessary to change things. Change is in the air in Congo. I could feel it. The time is now to support the people of Congo and help them to help themselves in changing their course. I look forward to my return and to spreading the word once I am home. It has been an experience I’ll never forget. I am very excited for the day to arrive when Congo is at peace. With our support combined with the determination of the people of Congo, that day will come.

Diana Buckhantz - It's Hard Being A Mother In Congo

Sat, 24 Sep 2011 08:44:00 +0300

It’s hard to be a mother in Congo. If you have a daughter, you live with a constant threat that she may be raped. If you have a son, you worry that he may be kidnapped by the army or one of the militias and turned into a child soldier. All mothers everywhere worry about being able to feed their children or having the ability to send them to school but mothers here have worries we can not even comprehend. I have written a great deal about the sexual violence that girls and women endure and while it is unforgivable and inexcusable, the other day I was forced to recognize that sometimes the perpetrator can be a victim too. On Wednesday, we visited a transit program for child soldiers who had recently been rescued from the army or militia and we listened and watched as these boys tried to find the lives that had been snatched from them. There were 112 boys living in the center. The youngest was 10 years old and had been captured at age 8. We were asked not to ask too many questions about the specifics of their situations for their protection but from what we know about child soldiers, we had to assume that most of the boys had killed or perhaps even raped. Looking at some of their faces, it was unfathomable to think that they could do such cold and brutal acts but we knew it could vey well have been true. And yet, here at the center, they were boys — children —with many of the same desires as our children. One boy had a band. He told me his stage name was Master Black, and he wanted to be a rock star. I told him that my son had a band and wanted to be a rock star also, and we laughed together. Another boy had loftier ideas and wanted to be the ambassador to the United States one day. They liked sports and one boy said he wanted a tv — pretty much like kids everywhere. But these kids are not like kids everywhere. They have been stolen away from their families — their childhoods ripped apart. The center keeps these boys for 3 months after they have been rescued from the army. They are given some basic counseling, medical care, literacy and skills classes. The staff at the center tries to help them reintegrate into society while they try to locate their families. If their families can not be found or their parents are dead, the program finds them a safe place to live. Without this program, I shudder to think who they might become. As I listened to the boys, I thought a great deal about my son, Sam, who is 19 years old. I thought about all the years we have had together and all the wonderful times we have shared — the conversations, laughs, hugs, and I tried to imagine the devastation I would have felt if he had suddenly been snatched away from me while walking home from school. In our country, we have amber alerts when a child is missing. In Congo, there are no amber alerts, just devastation. It’s very hard being a mother in Congo.

Diana Buckhantz - Reporting From Bukavu

Fri, 23 Sep 2011 22:30:00 +0300

Faraja is 22 years old. She is petite with haunting dark eyes and a quiet demeanor. She speaks softly so I have to strain to hear her. Looking at her, she appears to me to be somewhat timid. I could almost imagine that she is another victim of the conflict in Congo. But when she speaks, I understand why she is here. “I have always wanted to be a journalist. Even as a young girl, I would steal my father’s radio to listen to the news. He would punish me but it was worth it.” For a young woman to have a career as a journalist is almost unthinkable in Congo — especially in the rural areas. A woman professional is an anomaly but a radio reporter is unheard of. Outside the cities, there are very few radios in the home and if there is one, it is the sole property of the man — often locked up when he has finished listening to it. This unassuming young woman is one of the women who are beginning to break down barriers and demand their place and their voice at the table. Today, thanks to a program that has been developed by AFEM-SK, the South Kivu Women’s Media Association, Faraja is among the 22 young women who are realizing their dream to become reporters. AFEM is a local organization that works for the advancement of Congolese women by, in part, training women in rural villages to become radio journalists. The training that teaches them all aspects of reporting including finding and interviewing sources, doing interviews, and even discussing ethics and guidelines of journalism. (some of which, we could use to train our journalist at home). AFEM is one of the few organizations to produce community radio broadcasts. With its support, communities actually record the entire broadcast in rural areas. The goal is also to give a voice to women in very remote areas as these women are especially vulnerable to discrimination and sexual violence. AFEM believes that adding their voice in the widespread media is essential for affecting change. For the last eight months, Faraja has been working as a reporter at a radio station in Babusa. She was working there as a secretary when she heard about the AFEM training project and asked her boss if he would recommend her. He agreed. Faraja was interviewed and accepted. She completed the training and now instead of working as a secretary, she is a full reporter doing stories on such difficult subjects as gender based violence. In fact, for one of her first stories, she interviewed rape victims as well as the perpetrators. She ended her piece by reading the law on gender based violence. ChouChou is the Executive Director of AFEM-SK. She too had a dream to be a journalist and before working at AFEM, she was a reporter at a radio station for 10 years. She hard no formal training and had to learn everything on he job. It is for this reason that she knows how important training can be. She also wants to see that women receive news and information since she estimated that only about 40 per cent currently do. We asked her if there was any danger for the women by reporting in their villages. She said that since the program started in 2010, two women have had their lives threatened. She was quick to add that since no one is certain who made the threat, she can not definitively say that it was a result of their work; however, the implication is clear. Faraja has not had it completely easy either. She said that when she returns to her village, she is treated with mistrust. She has flaunted convention by leaving the village to follow her heart and therefore some in the community feel, she must be morally corrupt. But nothing deters her. And there is one person in particular in her village who is very proud of her — her father. At times, ChouChou seems overwhelmed by the job ahead of her and AFEM. As we have realized perhaps more pointedly on this trip, there is a very long way to go in Congo to change and improve cultural beliefs and standards. The sexual violence comes as a result of many factors not the least of which is a very clear and resounding disrespect for women. But when we ask about this, Shu Shu replies that she finds hope in the women with whom she works and whom they train. As she said, “they are strong. They want to work. Change will come through the women.” With women like Faraja and ChouChou working for Congo, I have no doubt that she is correct but before that can happen, there will be a great deal for Faraja and the other journalists to report.

Stephanie Liss - Rape Ward

Fri, 23 Sep 2011 22:22:00 +0300

We know of the rapes and the horrible acts of sexual violence against the women and children here in the Congo, but knowing of it is one thing – to bear witness to the aftermath is quite another. Even though we are at the end of this part of our journey together, I understand that we are here not only to help and to offer comfort and solace, but to bear witness to these crimes. As sister Jews, our connection to these Congolese women is great. There is so much that we share as a people, and so perhaps in all my years of activism, it is here that I finally begin to understand what it means to not stand idly by. At the hospital of Heal Africa, one of the partners of Jewish World Watch on the ground in the Congo, we enter the rape ward. Of the six of us on this journey, three of us are women. It is only we women who are allowed to enter this ward. Of all the sections of the hospital, including the pre and post op for fistula, this is the most fragile, and the reality is overpowering, as the women lie facing us, in so much pain and discomfort, and I’m sure, anguish. They rage in age – one is a young woman holding a baby, another much older, although her exact age impossible to know, and yet another, the youngest, barely in her teens. All of them have endured unspeakable acts of sexual violence, used as the true weapons of this inexplicable war, and yet in spite of their pain, the smiles that greet us are pure beauty. Three Jewish sisters there to take their hands, and to pray with them, for prayer is the foundation of their lives. It was Janice who offered the blessing as the leader of our group. It was a soulful prayer. We closed our eyes, and for that one moment, we were all transported, our silence so powerful. So moving… As Jews we know that survival is one thing, but strength quite another, and as we walked from bed to bed, and took each woman’s hand, I made my own silent prayer. I prayed for the strength of these women, and that we all would go from strength to greater strength, and that none of us would ever have need to say the words,’ Never again…”

Janice Kamenir-Reznik: What Are We To Do?

Fri, 23 Sep 2011 16:05:00 +0300

Anyone who knows me is well aware of the fact that I am not often at a loss for words. But this week, having sat face to face with more than 100 boys, aged 8-18, who had been liberated from various Congolese militias within the past 90 days, and indeed, I am speechless. “I was on my way home from school when the Mai Mai fighters jumped out of the bushes, grabbed me and carried me deep into the forest” reported one 10 year old boy. He was 8 when he was abducted, given a uniform and a gun, and forced to kill for the Mai Mai. This sweet-faced, innocent-looking child was liberated just a couple of weeks ago by an amazing Congolese man, who, for the past many years has been risking his life to gain the release of Bukavu’s thousands of child soldiers. For 2 years this little boy’s mother was bereft of her child; now, while he has been miraculously freed, he cannot be reunited with his family due to the continuing violence in the area of his village—the chance of his re-abduction is too great. So they wait and they hope… We heard story after story from child after child…I have no words in my vocabulary to describe the sadness and pain our entire team experienced as we sat and listened and tried to understand the live testimony unfolding in front of us. We cannot fathom what these children had endured and what horrors they had been forced to perpetrate; as a mother I cannot begin to comprehend the depth of the fright and pain experienced by their mothers. Waiting and hoping, day after day, month after month, year after year… Now, sitting in an obscure, poorly funded, shelter, the likes of which makes the orphanages of a Dickens’ novel seem palatial, the boys express gratitude to their rescuer. They are happy for the more-than-modest meals they are now receiving, and for the bunk beds provided to them; the fact that more than 60 children are sharing a room is a complete non-issue to them. Yet, even here, amongst these children who were so cruelly robbed of their childhoods and of their innocence, and who were so viciously manipulated into committing horrible acts, the dream of a future was still evident. A group of boys had organized a band, and all of the boys want to go to school. One boy even asked if we knew of a way to pay for his college tuition if he finished secondary school. One of the very impressive characteristics of the “transit house” in which these liberated child soldiers live, was the almost surreal fact that the boys had all served in different militias, often having fought deadly battles against one another. Boys who had served in the CNDP, the FDLR, the Mai Mai, and more, were all living together in a very cramped space, and there was no evidence of any unusual disharmony. This sense of resolve and optimism is what is so compelling about our Jewish World Watch mission in Congo. When you actually come face to face with people who have suffered in immeasurable and incomprehensible ways, and who have endured immense personal losses, but who have come through their nightmare with resolve to optimistically face their futures, one cannot help but support them in rebuilding their lives. I weep for the boys I met this week; I pray that the images of what they saw and what they did fade as they rebuild their lives and society. I weep for the mothers of the boys I met this week; I pray that the sadness in their hearts will one day be replaced by the joys of reuniting with their sons so as to be able to nurture their sons out of the horrors of their childhoods and into their happier adult years. And, I pray for the people of good faith in Congo who are working so hard to overcome the years of torture, war, rape and destruction. It is they who must lead the way; our job, as people of conscience, is to support and nurture those changes.

Benjamin Arnow - Waking Up

Fri, 23 Sep 2011 15:57:00 +0300

It’s 5am in Bukavu and the sun is just starting to rise over Lake Kivu. There it is again, that body of water stretching far into the distance, sitting quietly. Today is our last day in Bukavu and tomorrow we take the fast boat back to Goma where we will cross the border back into Rwanda to spend a few more days. I woke up this morning with lots of thoughts spinning around. There has been a lot to process over the past week and a half, but it will take time. It has been an emotional experience. It is so hard to describe the situation here. It is so huge. There are millions of pieces making up a much larger picture. Words don’t exactly capture it. Photographs don’t either. But you have to try. Yesterday we saw more signs of hope as we met with Woman for Woman and got to see some of their amazing projects on the ground and in action. We drove to a remote village outside of Bukavu, weaving through the hillsides on torn up roads, engulfed in a swirl of red dust. We were greeted by a large group in the village who were singing to mark our arrival. We were updated on the Animal Husbandry project by people in the village. This project is teaching woman how to raise animals which they can sell or use to provide food. We heard wonderful stories of how the animals were making such a difference in their lives. In one case, an initial dozen animals had been bred to yield upwards of thirty five which then provided food for the family, or were sold, and in this case had actually funded the construction of a small house. Woman in the community were learning to cook, having conversations about leadership and building ceramic tiles to sell. We heard stories of how these skills were chaining lives. There is a very long way to go, but these are the first steps. They are critical ones. These woman are taking control of their lives. They were proud of what they had accomplished. It is a pivotal moment. Change is in the air. I got the sense that the woman we met felt as though they were waking from a long dream. The sun was starting to rise after a long stormy night. Well, the sun has now risen over Lake Kivu. Birds are out frantically calling to one another. A rooster crows. A new day begins.

Stephanie Liss - The Prison

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 18:48:00 +0300

We have seen the women, and we have heard their stories. At times it has been enough to simply feel the depth of pain in their eyes, and as I share these moments with them, I wonder – “ Who are these men who have so little regard for the life of a woman? For the life of a child? What would I feel if I were to look into their eyes, and what would I see…? These questions were frightening to me until the moment when my answers came…

It was Saturday morning. Shabbat. Usually a time of rest and reflection, but on this day, as we made our way to the Goma prison, we were facing a very different kind of holy day. We were going with Pastor Camille and his amazing wife, Mama Esther, who together with Pastor Kasereka Kasomo of the Congolese church in Los Angeles, had recently started a group in Goma, called ‘Sons of Congo.’ These pastors and Mama Esther understand that if the rapes and extreme sexual violence against women and children is to stop, they must somehow reach the men. They must work with the men to chip away at years of cultural indoctrination and discrimination. Their work is hard; almost impossible. The men who rape are walled and resistant. They do not hear. They are closed to all but their own domination. To know this is to realize that as vital as the work that JWW does with the brutalized women and children, perhaps even more important is their work with these men. JWW has given funding to this pilot program, Sons of Congo, and we were in this prison not only to see them, but to try and understand. Understand…? How does a western mind even begin to comprehend all this..? Where do we go…?

We entered the prison – four women, Janice, Diana, Mama Esther, and I, along with ‘our guys,’ Fred, Ben, and John. Also with us were Pastor Camille, Jean Paul, Pascal, our driver and friend, Zico, our translator and the prison Pastor. We three Jewish women, and Mama Esther, herself Congolese from Kinshasa, walked together among these men. We were escorted into the open courtyard of the prison, where hundreds of all male inmates had gathered to greet us for morning prayers. As with much of Goma, there is no electricity in the prison, no bathrooms, only the all too familiar latrines – shallow holes in the ground. The men do not bathe and often are neither clothed nor fed. The stench that hit us as we entered, was beyond description. It was beyond all humanity. We were ushered to our seats behind their ‘bimah,’ and their morning prayers began, as Janice was asked to speak an introduction on our behalf. She was stunned by their request, but without missing a beat, she took her place in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by these hundreds, and began to speak. Her words were simple – breathtakingly brilliant. She introduced us one by one, as she stood before them to address the day, and to speak in general of the abuse of women, asking for them to consider their actions in the name of their mothers. Their mothers… That jarred us, for each of these men was some mother’s child. As Janice took her seat, the music began. Here in Congo, always the music. Nothing happens without the music, and as with Jews, the music holds a powerful connection to G-D, but on yesterday’s Shabbat morning, as we found ourselves face to face – panim l’ panim - with some of the most violent rapists of Congo, we were forced to confront our own spirits. They were singing and dancing their prayers to G-D, and we were invited – expected – to join with them. It was a horrible, difficult, moment for us. On one hand, the music was life, and it was our Sabbath, and on the other, how could we dance with these men who steal and kill, because even though most of the women survive, these men have killed a part of them, and the deepest part which they have stolen, will never be returned. I knew then, that this was our test. I felt my own rage building, and so to release, I allowed my body to move with the music. Diana was standing next to me, and she leaned in and whispered,’ I can’t dance with them. I just can’t.’ No, this was a circle that most of us had not the stomach to enter. Music and prayer – the heart and soul of our religion, but on this Shabbat, we were unable to sing, and yet, in spite of our surroundings, it was a holy Sabbath, because we were there to bear witness. I looked around at ‘our guys,’ wanting to see each man’s face. Our youngest, Ben, who had been so moved by the entire trip, for the first time, had tears in his eyes, as he faced them. Even for the men – or perhaps especially for the men, it was one of the most difficult pieces of this Congo tapestry. A moment passed as all this rushed through me, and my eyes landed in a corner of the group to our right. Behind them, a young man was looking out at the services, from behind the bars of what I can only imagine was his cell. For an instant, our eyes met, and I saw such a deep sadness and emptiness within him. It was then that I knew what I had wanted to deny – that each of them in fact, was some mother’s child…

Janice Kamenir-Reznik - Dreaming

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 18:45:00 +0300

The after school program, Generation Hope, organized by the most amazing Mama Esther Ntoto, buoyed my spirits and filled me with optimism about the possibilities for Congo’s future.

We walked into a large tent in which 140 children of all ages sat on chairs as they participated in an uber-animated game of Scattergories…in English! Generation Hope-Future Leaders of Congo provides orphans, former child soldiers, street children and other vulnerable children with educational, leadership, and mentoring programs.

In our honor, two students were asked to deliver welcoming speeches to us. Gerard (not his real name) spoke first. His artfully crafted and superbly delivered speech could have earned him a place on the debate team of any of the finest high schools in the states. He decried Congo’s failed infrastructure and its corrupt government. He railed against those who viciously rape women, who have tragically caused his country to be known as the rape capital of the world. Gerard ended his speech with his commitment to help build a new Congo which will be known for it’s beauty and resourcefulness rather than reviled because of the prevalence of violence and death.

The second teenager to speak was Jean-Paul (not his real name), an orphan of war, who grew up living on the streets of Goma. Jean-Paul was inspired to write his speech after completing a unit of study at Generation Hope about Martin Luther King. After studying King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, Jean-Paul decided that he wanted to share his dream too. With gravitas and conviction, and with the eloquence of a great statesman, Jean-Paul spoke of his dream of a violence-free Congo where children are educated and can live happily and peacefully.

To say that these two young teenagers blew us away is an understatement. The impact that Generation Hope has had on the young participants is miraculous. And, indeed, the impact that these youngsters will have on the future of their communities, and eventually on their country is inestimable.

After the speeches, the children were invited to ask our team any questions they wanted. “What is the weather in America?” “What do Americans eat?” And my personal all-time favorite directed specifically to me, “How old are you?”; particularly disconcerting was the fact that all 140 students gasped in unison when I told them my age. (This was no doubt because the average lifespan in Congo is a sobering 15 years younger than my current age.)

We then asked the students what their personal goals were, several responded by declaring their interest in the usual professions and careers. When Jean-Paul was ready to share his personal goal, he got up from his seat and confidently marched up to the stage, stood up straight and boldly declared, “I want to be President of Congo.”. While his declaration caused the rest of the room to break out into laughter, none of us on the JWW team let out so much as a chuckle.

DAYS 5 and 6:

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 18:17:00 +0300

We’ve entered Goma Prison, gone on site visits to programs in villages outside the city, interviewed a former child soldier and a young woman who was a victim of sexual violence when her village was attacked, taken the fast boat to Bukavu, done site visits at 3 different villages in the hills surrounding this city on the southern end of Lake Kivu, visited the General Hospital and seen 2 different programs within the city confines. It’s exhausting and heartbreaking and heartwarming all at the same time. Take a few minutes to read some of the posts here that further describe where we’ve been and what we’ve been doing. Every one of them is elegantly written and deeply touching. This is one amazing JWW team…

Diana Buckhantz - IF MUSIC BE THE FOOD OF LIFE! PLAY ON

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 16:37:00 +0300

It is 8AM as we enter the men’s prison in Goma, a massive concrete
structure towering over the stone and cardboard huts that make up the
city. The stench is overpowering as we cross the threshold. We are
ushered into the courtyard and led to a row of seats in the middle of
1200 prisoners. The scene is virtually indescribable. We are surrounded
by men, many of whom perpetrate the sexual violence about which we have heard so much. There are almost no guards to be seen. And then it starts. Loud, passionate drumming. A group of prisoners drum and sing and sway to the music in front of us. This is the prison choir. It is such a feeling of disconnect for me. I am not certain how to respond. The drumming is amazing, the beat engaging and uplifting but should I be smiling and grooving with these men? We have cried with women in Congo as they described unspeakable pain and loss. Just two days ago, we spoke with a young woman who had been raped at age14 and had spent the last 6 years in Heal Africa Hospital recovering from her wounds. And now here are some of the men who have done those very things. But then I realize that these men are praying with their music and I realize that music is part of the process used in Congo to affect change and heal the soul.

Music is everywhere in Congo and it is used as a tool for healing, for uplifting spirits, and calming the soul. And there is such joy and hope in the sounds and songs. Before we left the Safe Motherhood Project, Janice, Stephanie, and I joined the women in what Janice called their version of the Hora. We formed a circle dancing and singing “caribou, caribou” (welcome). It was a joyful moment of giving thanks for the land Jewish World Watch had helped them buy, their harvest of delicious eggplant, and new friends.

Today we were invited to the Sunday Church service at Heal Africa Hospital where we support several projects. The first half hour is filled with Congolese Gospel Music and the voices of the choir filled the chapel with joy and ecstasy. We watched as people we had seen in the hospital wards seem transformed — laughing, singing, swaying to the music. Their bodies seemed liberated from whatever had brought them to this hospital.

Music and dancing have always been cathartic for me. And while I am in no way comparing my life circumstances with the experiences of the people in Congo, in a small way, I understand the power of music to transcend circumstances. I was reminded again last night when our team went searching for somewhere to hear Congolese music. We ended up in a club with Congolese disco music — not what we had intended. Again a disconnect — we had spent the day interviewing a former child soldier who described in great detail how he was captured by one of the militia groups at age 11 and forced for six years to kill as a soldier on their
behalf. Now, here I was with Congolese people dressed up and dancing. I join in feeling a little disingenuous and guilty. And then I look around and realize how important it is to be able to forget even for a few moments. It is what gives us the strength to carry on. Shakespeare said, “if music be the food of life, play on!” Here in Congo, the music plays and the people drink it in as they try to heal.

More Goma - Bukavu is coming soon…

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 16:30:07 +0300

Go ahead, build without a permit...

Safe Mama

Pastor Camille and Esther + JWW

More Goma - Bukavu is coming soon…

Stephanie Liss - Sister Africa, Sister Jew

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 20:16:04 +0300

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…

Fred Kramer - Congo, kangaroo free.

Sun, 18 Sep 2011 19:27:00 +0300

During a discussion when we first met, my beloved girlfriend referred to me as “cross-armed kangaroo”, her way of describing a habit I’ve harbored of closing myself off to certain ideas and potential truths.

Each time I arrive in Africa, I’m forced to wrestle with the fact that humanity here feels different from what I know of it. The kinks of being, at first seem more apparent here.

We ride on impossibly bumpy roads, staring at primitive constructions made from any and all available materials, mysteriously bonded together both incorporating and sitting atop the omnipresent black, igneous rocks - vestiges of an explosive Mount Nyiragongo, which less than 10 years ago leveled a good portion of this town. In the streets the scents of living, dying and rebirth occur to me more directly and unambiguously than my brain is used to. My heart breaks over the notion that the lush and gorgeous hills surrounding this beleaguered place contain bands of soldiers perpetrating unspeakable acts of violence against their brothers, sisters, parents and children. If it is possible, the fighting seems even less comprehensible in these magnificent environs, sparingly populated with beautiful, smiling Congolese villagers living simple lives and working long days just to feed themselves and their families.

There are survivors of the violence and of the hurdles endemic to life in eastern Congo today, whose stories I hear and find difficult to believe or accept simply because they are so different; so distant from my own. It’s easy to be overwhelmed by the scale and complicated nature of the problems here, though when I “uncross”, I can see that the suffering is real and the resilience, unrivaled. Most importantly, the steps we’re taking together yield real results.

We are all are able to feel tremendous joy and acceptance among many of the people we’ve met on this journey. We also feel the disquieting anger, hatred and greed that fuels others, perpetuating a cycle of violence now responsible for five and half million deaths and tragic, life altering damage for millions of the living. The skin of society’s capsule is surprisingly soluble, and we should take heed that the water is never very far away.

Humanity is not different here in Africa, in the Middle East, or anywhere else in the world. Though it can seem as if we’re living in different times, with different understandings of the world around us, it is more apparent to me than ever that we are all a part of one another, inextricably interconnected and responsible for the well being of the whole.

JWW seeks to heal those most affected by the current situation. We also strive to support society itself so that the next generation knows a different, more peaceful life. The people I am coming to know here in Goma are those most actively engaged in that healing work. I am touched by my new friends’ compassion and dedication; awed by their bravery and deeply impressed with their ingenuity, understanding and effectiveness. I am blessed by the prospect of working with all of you at home to support them, and together making the kind of change that I know to be possible when my inner marsupial is able to untangle itself. I hope you’ll join me.