In Goma

The Africa Posts

I write from home now, I am not the same self that left …and I will talk about that another time.

I will continue to label these writings “The Africa Posts”

I have not shared everything about Uganda yet, but I must report on Goma now. I do not want to endanger the missions there, and I need permission to tell some things, but there is much I can share, and it is best I feel for me to share events as they happened, in sequence.

When I said I love Congo and her people, it’s because so many of the people of Congo are actually in Goma. I did not travel more than a few miles from there, but Goma is a place where many people seek refuge.

I have recieved permission to use the name of our host, Bienvenu Kamwendo and provide a link to his organization, Remember Youth for Change. https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange

When we crossed the border from Rwanda, Bienve brought my son and I to the hotel he reserved for us. We paid, left our luggage, had a quick breakfast, and went on to visit his office near the church. There we were formally introduced to the staff of Remember Youth for Change. https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange, a small but impactful group with several missions at work. Bienve is the founder. We met local members/employees of the organization (one is his wife and one his daughter we later learned), and several former child soldiers.

After the formalities, we were shown a room with a sewing machine and some patterns and some beautiful African fabrics. We saw a box of shirts that we would deliver to children attending school at a refugee camp (whether to attend school is a parental choice). We were also shown a box of reusable menstrual pads that have been a big success in the local community.

The box of shirts went to the car with us.

Next we were driven to another building where 6 sewing machines were set up with 6 workers in a rented space on a second floor. There were 4 or 5 older women by a table of supplies. (By the way, I don’t think I met another caucasian person during my time in Goma. These are Africans, teaching and helping other Africans.) The older women were there as teachers. They looked at us with closed faces and uncertainty. All of them were dressed in beautiful clothes they had made themselves with beautiful fabrics. They softened a bit when I asked about and praised their clothes. There were 3 former child soldiers and 3 young women at the machines.

As Bienve spoke with my son about the operation, I decided this would be a good time to disperse some of the gifts I had brought. I pulled out a scarf, a pair of glasses, a few other items. I thought I had found some wise and generous women who would know who needed what. And I had …but Bienve stopped me and explained that these women were not associated with the refugee camp, that we would find a way to give away my treasures there. Embarrassed, I took the items back and put them back in my backpack. The women, however, understood. They had seen the intentions of my heart and they smiled at me warmly. As we left them, I touched my hand to my heart and to each of theirs, going down the row, down the stairs and back to the car.

We drove through Goma toward the camp.

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