The Untold Stories

So sorry we haven't been able to keep up posting like we had hoped! The internet has been down again and we have been extremely busy. We wanted to share what we experienced yesterday and are so glad that the internet has been more cooperative today.

Yesterday was a tough day. It started with Jesse not feeling well from the night before, and Mara was up early throwing up in the bathroom. Despite their nausea they were bound and determined to go with Liz and Janny to the parish in a small village about an hour from Bukavu. That village has been one of the hardest hit, both in terms of the recent conflict dating back to 1996, and also in terms of sexual violence. This is because it is close to the forest where the armed rebel groups hide, as well as the border with Rwanda. The contrast between the incredibly beautiful drive up and the violent realities the village has known is stark. 

When we arrived we were guests of the catholic priest of the parish. Although the parish normally turned away any interviews and filming,  he was very supportive of the work we've been doing. He said that he wanted us to see firsthand so the truth could be told. The parish provides a safe haven for women and men who have been sexually assaulted, as well as those who have witnessed it and other violence. They showed us the books with the handwritten names of hundreds of women who have come to them for help. The number from this tiny village in just one year was already at 656. In fact we were told by Michele a visiting Journalism professor from Italy over lunch, that it was becoming more and more difficult to find women that hadn't experienced some form of violence. In the afternoon a military officer we had spoken to shared a story we had already heard about the Interahamwe. They wrote a village and in their letter they demanded $1000.00 as well as seven virgins, or they would attack. This was even announced on the radio and became public knowledge. The international presence here on the ground did nothing. The population lives in constant fear and as was stated, "where are they going to even find virgins who had not been raped." Unfortunately these kinds of stories are all too common. 

The lunch was one of the most unexpectedly insightful hours that we've spent here. The table consisted of Michele, the army officer, and several local priests who had been here throughout the war. They talked to us about some controversial dynamics: we covered ethnic and historical tensions, tensions between Rwanda and the Congo, mining interests, and the motivations of regional and international actors. They raised some significant questions and provided significant answers from their point of view. We intend to take what they discussed and continue to unearth more details. As we looked back over our notes and video footage, we started to see just how big the things they said potentially are. It's information we take seriously and plan to share more when we get home and can process the whole picture. As we left the lunch the parish priest said to us "You have the truth use it, don't let it go to waste like so many have before you."

Lastly we wanted to share with you Francine's story. Francine is a beautiful 18 year old Congolese woman pregnant with her first child. Unfortunately this child was not Francine's choice but is a child conceived by rape. Before we sat with Francine we thought we would meet a woman with a broken spirit. Instead we we were introduced to a young woman who was the embodiment of courage. As Janny put it, "The women of the Congo are resilient, they are made of steel". She shared that although she still does not feel safe, she was also confident that things would change. When we asked what gave her hope she said prayer, and that "yes I believe it will get better. It has to." Though the man who invaded her home tried to break her spirit she told us she has hope for the future, both hers and that of her unborn child. This is the reason we are here, to be the voice for the hundreds and thousands of Francine's whose stories are never told and suffer in silence, and for the countless others who voice their suffering and are ignored.