Looking back to Africa
The young man who stayed close to me for my protection when we visited the Bulango Camp is named Baraka. I felt completely safe with him as I lingered behind the others in the group to greet and connect with the women and children who had been displaced. He is one of Bienve’s close helpers. He drives others, protects, and I don’t know what else. Baraka has my heart. Language barriers prevented us from exchanging information, except for my gratitude. I hold him in my heart.
I remember this photo being taken on our last day. I have wanted to see it, to have it, to share it, but it wasn’t with the 2 batches that were shared with me. Tonight I found it, looking again at the expanded collection.
Beautiful. It holds all I remember of our connection. I’m grateful beyond words. My heart is full.
I remember looking into Baraka’s eyes in this moment of our photo. His gaze was steady and warm. It was hard for me to sustain our connected gaze. I had to look away, felt I should be posing, looking at the photographer. There was another shot taken where I am looking away. But here the moment is caught when I am fully present, receiving and giving love.
And so I have it still.
I wish there was something I could do for this young man. He was taken from his village as a child and forced into life as a soldier. I don’t know how long this lasted or how old he was or how he found his way to Bienve and the organization he now serves – Remember Youth for Change. (Website almost complete!) I do know he is very fortunate. So many who have walked the path of child soldier do not find safe harbor or work. They are outcasts for reasons that are not spoken, that I can guess.
It has been suggested that it is better to donate to the organization than to give to individuals, and I’m certain that is true. Still, I will let Bienve know that if there is ever a need – for education or other help for Baraka – to reach out to me. Everything is a great deal less expensive in Congo, and I might be able to make a difference.
Thank you for sharing this moment with me, and for indulging my heart.
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8 hummingbird way 
Another gem of a post Annie! Such poignant sharing of your experiences, such acknowledgement of the beings who enriched your being!
As I am wont to do, I question the wisdom of giving to organizations rather than individuals. If I have five hundred dollars to give and I give that directly to individuals, no organization takes a cut of that. How much of that $500 goes to the individuals in need and how much to the organization?
If you aren’t in a position to identify individuals in need and get resources to them, I might agree with the conventional wisdom, but I think in your case direct giving would benefit both the individuals receiving your generosity and you more. Just my .02.đŸ˜‰
Love what you’re doing! Would an electric guitar work in that environment? I’ve heard electricity can be iffy there.
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Thank you T.A.
I don’t seem to directly get comments. I just happened to see this one. Sorry for late response. I agree – electric guitar + electricity can be iffy.
Thank you for your thoughts about direct giving.
I saw enough of what our host, Bienve is doing to be comfortable donating. I met 3 amazing men I feel that way about. I woke this morning thinking of them and of Africa. I actually have no direct line of communication to anyone but Bienve. He gave me his budget for renting a large field to plant cabbage, potatoes, for training of child soldiers, and more – and I feel that is where I want my funds to go. But there is also Kuol (the man I wrote about who was taken as a child soldier, now directs some assistance through Jeff in a refugee camp in northern Uganda, and met the Dalai Lama). I don’t know that I have ever met a person who carries love in the way he does. I want to put aside some money for him as well. I will reach out to him through Jeff.
I wish I had more than money I do. I am fortunate to be able to help my 3 grandsons with college expenses and still put some aside for Bienve and hopefully for Kuol.
Blessing to you, T.A.
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