COVETED POSSESSIONS

October 13, 2008

Dear Friends of Rugari Parish,
Today I want to write just a letter; a letter to describe the past few days here at Goma and Rugari Parish. During the week just past, I found myself with a car to drive and what an experience that has been. I actually feel bad driving around instead of walking; it makes me look rich when I am not and I miss the exercise which helps both my body and my mind. The one thing the car has afforded me is to go more places, more quickly but I am not sure that means I have accomplished a whole lot more. For sure it has saved me some money because the distances I have traveled would have been by motorcycle taxi and that would have cost me dollars and to drive this car has been free. In that sense I have been able to save my supporters at St. John’s some money….YAHOO!!!

Now let me tell you about going to the nice supermarket here in Goma, it is called Kivu Market. Kivu Market is a bit like going into a nice market in the States…a bit; the inner aisles are filled with canned or packaged foods and home care items; the perimeter with fresh meats, fruits, breads, cakes, etc. The items are not from the States but made to look very similar and you pay a GOOD PRICE for your choices (AVERY HIGH PRICE). But we can find some pretty good items we cannot find any other place; if we are really missing something from home we just might be able to find something very near to the same at Kivu Market. One of the big differences at Kivu Market is going from the car, into the market and returning.

Let me explain, as I stopped one day last week I got out of the car, went into the back seat to get my backpack and turning around as I shut the door was faced with a most gruesome site. Standing behind me was a young woman, late teens or early twenties, with a hole where her nose was supposed to be. She was saying something to me that was totally intelligible to me. I knew she was asking for money, but her words I could not understand because of the way the sounds came out from the hole in the middle of her face where her nose was supposed to be. I had to look away…I am used to seeing many people with horrible injuries asking for money in these situations, but this one was really a shock to my system. The nasal labial folds of her nose were there but all the rest was gone, the skin was caved into the gaping hole and the pink mucous tissue was easily seen from outside. It was like looking at something your not supposed to see, it felt like an invasion of her privacy….I can’t imagine what it must feel like for her.

Then as I returned to the car after purchasing some good bread, two croissants, and a bottle of water, I was met by another woman; one whom I am used to seeing at Kivu Market. She has had injury to her left lower lip and jaw, her deformity leaves her also unable to speak clearly, her tongue doesn’t move properly because part of her lower jaw is missing; the boundary her tongue needs to speak normally is gone. And of course, she is in need of money as well. Both of these women have encountered some violence that caused these injuries; what violence I will never know. I wanted to stay and ask the girl without the nose what had happened, how this tragedy came to her life, but I knew I would not be able to understand her, so I just walked away…it was a difficult walk and one that is still bothering me.

A shopping trip to the Kivu Market is both blessing and curse; you must be ready to face tragedy of this sort to find your coveted possessions.

Then a wonderful trip from last Sunday, Abbe John Fidel and I were able to go to Kibumba IDP Camp so that he could say Mass. But this was not just your regular, ordinary, every Sunday Mass; this was a Mass that included 65 infants, teenagers, and adults baptized and 30 others partaking in their First Holy Communion. We arrived at 8:30am to find people beginning to gather for their first Confession, others placing tarps over the wooden frame in the open field. Two tarps were placed over the area of the Altar but the benches where the congregation sat was open to the bright morning sun. The air was warm and the sun felt good, even a bit too warm in the beginning. We had seen the full clear beauty of Nyiragongo Volcano on the drive up from Goma, but as the morning progressed the clouds and cool air began to arrive.

After visiting with a number of the candidates for baptism and communion, I walked into the center of Kibumba IDP Camp to visit the dispensary where I have worked from time to time and the site for which St. Anne donated the funds to purchase one months worth of medicines. I could not fathom being so close and not stopping to say hello to my colleagues working there. I visited with the few patients hoping to encourage them in some way. One was a small child very ill with Malaria. Then I visited the maternity ward; there were 5 mothers with new infants from the night. Obviously the nurses had been working all night in assisting these 5 births. All mothers and babies were doing well. Many patients were coming into the queue already at that early hour, patients are many at the camp, especially now because the population has grown again due to the renewed fighting. As I walked through the camp, I saw so many signs of malnutrition and hunger…people are so thin and I see that on a daily basis in Goma as well. Hunger for food, for justice, for progress, for development, for peace,…HUNGER!!!

I returned from my visit to the dispensary to see progress on our makeshift church coming along beautifully. They had placed a tarp on the dirt then placed a small table for the Altar; the lectern was in place, as well as the credence table. Chairs were being placed for those who would assist in the Mass, the musicians were assembling, and the line for confessions was moving as one by one they went in to visit with Abbe John Fidel. The air was becoming cooler by the minute, the music started and the sound system seemed to be functioning. Everyone stood as we sang the entrance hymn and Mass had begun. The grounds were jammed packed with people of all ages. We progressed through the lessons, the gospel, the homily and began the baptism portion of the service. It was in the middle of the baptisms that the rain began to fall, light at first, then pouring from the heavens as if it would be the next flood of the world. Those of us under the two tarps remained relatively dry, but those coming forward for baptism and then communion were drenched to the bone. Children were standing in the rain shivering, the choir continued to sing for all they were worth and the sounds of rain, thunder, music, words of baptism and communion filled our senses. It was a site to behold, water running down the faces, dripping through the tarps, moving the bible, the Eucharist, the credence to keep things in a spot where water wasn’t dripping, seeing the bottoms of robes worn by attendants and priest becoming splattered with mud and drenched in water. The water flowing across the earthen floor becoming pools of brown water we were all treading through. Finally as we were finishing Mass the rain began to slow, it was after Mass when the rain finally stopped for a period of time. What an experience that was….WOW!!!

Now after a wonderful celebration as this, we were afforded the wonderful Congolese hospitality; we were invited into a room of the school where IDP’s are staying and fed a wonderful meal of potatoes, beans, rice, and meat cooked in a wonderful sauce. It was delicious, but as I sat gazing out the window it was hard for me to think of eating such sumptuous food while seeing the hunger all around me, but I also knew that this hospitality was so important to receive graciously…

We prayed, asking God’s blessings on the food, giving thanks for all who had been joined to Christ through Baptism and who had been nourished in their First Communion, and then we ate the food with great relish; it tasted so good. We discussed many things at this meal including the problems of progressing education for those within the camp. It seems the government again, as always, pays some teachers but not all. We in that discussion were of one mind that an extra effort needs to be made by the government to see that all teachers for camps are paid. These are the poorest of the poor in this country and in this situation of war, they are the ones most in need of progressing their education and least able to pay. We discussed news of recent fighting as this is uppermost on everyone’s minds. Then we called MONUC officers at Rugari to double check that all was quiet there and if we were able to arrive to check the house and collect some of our belongings.

We got in the car and headed up the road to our village of Rugari, the rain had started to fall once again. Our visit to Rugari parish was short; we unlocked doors, saw the status of things, went to our rooms and collected what we wanted to take with us for this day. I got some extra clothes, my French language study aids, my radio, and my shaver; I had found myself missing these coveted possessions in the 6 weeks since we have been gone from the parish house of Rugari. I still have many items at Rugari, hoping against hope we can return again some day in the not too distant future.

The flower garden is now in full bloom after the good tending it had received in the time we were staying there; roses in the back are amass with beautiful blooms of many hues and the courtyard between the house and church are full of the deep red of amaryllis and white and yellow of daisy blossoms. It was beautiful, even in the rain coming steadily down. We left the house and it felt difficult, we don’t know when we can come back and we don’t know if the house will be intact when we do. War leaves one in the unknown. We pray MONUC will maintain their position there giving the added security, we are afraid of the looting and vandalism that could happen again as it did in the fighting from last year…we are so grateful for the presence of MONUC.

We headed back down the road to the steady drizzle of the rain; it was a quiet ride home. Our return in Goma was shortly after 5pm, we had left at 7am; it had been a long day and we felt the fatigue, for me much of it emotional. It was good to be back in Goma, our trip had been successful and yet we can only rest in the unknown. For that Sunday we were able to accomplish a wonderful thing, what will come in the future at Rugari Parish we must wait to see. ONE DAY AT A TIME…SWEET JESUS…ONE DAY AT A TIME…

Well, this has been my letter of small bits of life here in Goma and Rugari from the past week, hope that helps you to imagine what it is like. I wanted to try drawing some pictures with words instead of photos this time.

Take Care and God Bless,
Jackie

TRAVEL EXPERIENCES

This blog post is going to be a bit different...

A bit of a collage...

Pictured here are the young folks who helped me find my way in Nairobi, Kenya. This is Charles and his friend Josephine at the Osewe Restaurant in downtown Nairobi Sunday afternoon after church. AAAHHHH THAT WAS A GOOD DAY!







And we ate deliscious traditional LUO food.

These two fellows are colleagues with Charles and work for him in his sound studio. They were in charge of the sound system for the Pentacostal worship service we attended.


Can't say enough good things about the ROSA MYSTICA RETREAT CENTER in NAIROBI...





...just go there to stay when you are in KENYA.


(Franciscans)


and while you are there enjoy prayer and meditation in the beautiful chapel.




...the tea plantations of Kenya...













and just the beautiful countryside of Kenya...





...it is stunningly beautiful...









I had to laugh...it was the season of road construction...













and Kenya is doing the high tech, good quality type of road construction... so is Rwanda.






This huge and beautiful Catholic Church next to the house where I am staying in Kigali, Rwanda is a real testament of faith. It has been designed and built solely through the work and finances of the congregation. No funding came through the Diocese to accomplish this construction.















And the most wonderful thing is that music ministry seems to be there strong suit. Hardly a day passes when I have walked by without listening to some WONDERFUL MUSIC. Especially fine traditional music including these drummers who were preparing to help celebrate the Mass.

Here is a photo op for Robin and Jen, wife and daughter of Pastor John Rutsindintwarane. He is the General Secretary of the Lutheran Church of Rwanda. I have finally met this man who I got in touch with by email well over a year and half ago....and wow what exciting ministry he has going. And have really enjoyed getting to know this family


Well, I just had to volunteer to help for my second church service with them...and they asked me to preach. It has been a real treat to be part of Lutheran services again and to be able to participate more fully...AAHHHHH!!!! SWEET!










Now I will close leaving you with a poem I wrote on Saturday morning last weekend. I had spent 3 long days traveling by bus returning to Kigali with our books for NKOKWE...

Descending

What must it feel like to be descended upon by vultures while still alive?
I am reminded of the picture of a starving child sitting in the dust somewhere in Africa with a vulture sitting patiently at a distance…
…waiting for his time to feed from the weakening, dieing child.
Did the child have yet the strength to know his life was ebbing from his weakened frame, did he have yet the strength to fight, to get angry…?

To be descended upon by vultures…
…that is the experience I liken to descending from a bus into the balmy warm air of a night in Kigali, Rwanda.
I descend into the midst of bodies crying out to me

grasping at my arms and my luggage and my attention.
Each wanting a piece of me…a piece of my money really,
it’s not me they want, but my money.
My skin has become a burden to me now and in these times when the vultures are there seeking to take from me all that I have,

I feel my life blood seeping out of me and I feel my weakening condition.
And then I get angry; angry at the situation of the world that fosters such behavior and grasping need.
But I get angry with the individuals also,

is there no shame for them in their behavior

that they will take advantage of me because of my color,

because of my WEALTH…HAH. I scorn the thought.
In my life I have not seen myself as wealthy…

but I can understand how the vultures see me as wealthy,

for they do not see me and my situation, but they see the paradigm of wealth portrayed by so many tourists and visitors who arrive;

those who live much higher on the scale than I.
They see the scale of wealth they’ve become accustomed to

in television, Internet, and journals.
They see a different kind of wealth than I enjoy or even aspire to.
I have lived my life simply,

forgoing the seeking of wealth on the scale that they see.
So now I pay the price, I am unable to pay the small fees for their help,

for a taxi instead of a bus, or for an extra pair of hands to help me carry my luggage.
And I get angry again when I am asked a higher fee for the bus

...because my skin is white instead of black.
I get tired of injustice in the world at these times…
…but more than that, I just get tired,
I feel the life seeping out of me,
I am no longer a living, breathing human being,

but a bit of food for the vultures to feed from…
I am drained by the presence of vultures descending to see what they can pick from my carcass.

The Most Difficult Story...

Today I bring to you the most difficult story for me so far. I bring to you the story of one family of our Rugari parish, just another in a long list of the most difficult life stories. This is the story of the charismatic evangelist for the Catholic church at Rugari and his family.

He lives with his wife and 6 children in this home built using the materials available from the surroundings. Their home, built of wood and volcano rock, sits nestled among many such homes; trees and volcano rock the environment they share. This is the same man who has helped at each moment in the work of the parish.

Here we are on the day we moved the tables and items from the clinic up on the hill down to the new clinic by the road.

In these photos we are cleaning the bed that I brought down to our house by the road so that I could have a good solid bed instead of the metal sagging bed I had been using….we were having such a good day, the sun was bright and warm and life was good. This was a good time.

On the weekend of the Vitshumbi youth trip I was asked by this man if I could help somehow to provide some money so that he could take his 9 year old daughter to follow up care at the Rutshuru hospital.

A FARDC soldier had accosted her on the road as she returned from the clinic and raped her. This rape occurred mid-morning Tuesday the week of the Vitshumbi weekend. As the child was headed for school after getting medicine from the clinic, this FARDC soldier took her from the road and raped her very near to the road. This is part of the life of war here in Congo.

This is the child whose life is now marked by a sad and tragic event. As I visited with her in their home I asked if I could have some photos. Both she and her father agreed, but for the longest time this child was unable to make direct eye contact. But as time went on she became more and more comfortable with my presence.

Of course my presence at their home called for many children to come and see what was going on with an Mzungu visiting them.

So of course I needed to get more photos of all the visitors.

HAPPILY SO, AS CHILDREN ALWAYS BRING DELIGHT!!!

Then we went outside so we could get some great outdoor photos.

One child visiting us was lifted up as a very special person because of his difference. They even asked that he be in a photo just by himself to show his special status, it was a way of saying he is highly regarded.

Here is his photo; I was so impressed with the special deference, attention, and affection he was held in by the villagers, his friends and neighbors present. What a love and acceptance of one who was different. I am unable to bring to mind the medical condition this boy has, but the adults present say that at this time he is progressing well with his studies at school and has no affects of pain or deficit from his condition. He is loved and held in high esteem here.

Another element is the story of this little girl’s youngest brother who, in this photo with his mother, rests snuggled close to her back by a wrap, freeing her hands and head for other work as she goes about her day to day work.

This is the first time I had visited their home and she was very happy to receive me, to join in our photos and to tell more of the stories of their life. This was my first visit, but I look with hope to the day I can drop in for a visit again, I know I will enjoy!!!

This youngest brother has quite a severe umbilical hernia. I have seen many of these here in Africa and have heard many stories of these defects that eventually heal and are fine, but also I have heard and seen of those that became strangulated and the child dies. It is a chance one takes to wait and see if it will close on its own, but it is often the only option for those who live in poverty such as this.

Another verse of this song is the eldest daughter who arrived in the middle of my visit. She came carrying a basket on her head and when she saw me visiting she immediately put the basket and cushion from her head and ran to change. She refused a photo as she arrived carrying her basket on her head and seemed embarrassed for this, the adults present tried to force her to stand for such a photo but she very angrily refused and as the adults tried to insist I intervened and said it was not good to force if she felt uncomfortable. The adults present accepted this saying they could understand that it was in fact a violence to force someone to do what they felt uncomfortable doing. Here is her photo after she had changed and came to join us and I read in her face still a fierce anger.

For me this is the face of a young woman who feels trapped by her circumstances.

I end this story with these last group photos.

Family photos with many stories intertwined; this is a story of love and faith, difficulty and adversity, hope and thanksgiving, anger and helplessness, tenacity and endurance...

This is a story like so many lives, touched by all the valleys and mountains of life, they face this life with the sure conviction of their faith in Jesus as the risen Savior of all nations and tribes.