About

Personally

by 8hummingbirdway

I wondered how I would cope with this journey being over. But it’s not over. My heart and my soul have been deeply impacted and there is more to do. Telling the story of my journey is part of it. Right now I’m not sure how to even be myself.

I walked into my home Monday morning and saw my husband and the tears started. They live close to the surface now – for which I am grateful.

Tears should always be close to the surface, I think. So that we can release the experiences and challenges we no longer need to hold on to. Mine were shut off for many many years, and I had been holding onto much.

There has been a slow resurfacing more recently, and now, after this jounrey, I feel I live with them (tears) right here with me, ready to flow if need be. It feels like the right way to live.

I would also like to live with laughter close to the surface. Perhaps other things as well.

As well as a the desire to tell about what I’ve seen and experienced, I would like to learn how to walk with a load on my head, as so many of the people in Africa do. I saw it over and over and I’ve always loved that image, and the simplicity of carrying a load in that way. We shall see whether I have the balance and strength to do it. Or whether one must learn this ability at a younger age. Or whether I will even sustain this intention. It’s going to have to wait for warmer weather!

I am physically challenged from the journey. It was all I could do to drive home 3+1/2 hours yesterday on the morning after my 3rd plane landed (Sunday at 2pm). I am listless, short-tempered at times, hot and cold, my feet are falling asleep often, I’m sleeping an awful lot, a small cut is not healing, I’m not eating much, and have to make myself drink. (My son was in the hospital for dehydration last night. I feel for him. He had to put off an important job interview from Monday until Tuesday, and then realized he could not think. Thank God he was able to recognize that he needed help.) I have not lifted a finger in the past 3 days to cook anything. After looking at my calendar about 8 times, I prepared to leave for an acupuncture appointment Tuesday, then realized it’s not until Wednesday when I saw the date on my check. I’m nervous about taking a shower, and I clearly need one (I did take one Sunday night).

I am very fortunate to have a tolerant and supportive husband. He just put on some lovely music tonight that has me teary, so the shower will have to wait.

I know people are waiting to know more about my journey, but there are many aspects to what has occurred. I will continue with my trip to the first refugee camp tomorrow.

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In Goma

by 8hummingbirdway

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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Smiling from the Heart

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

I have left the DRC (Congo). I have left Africa. I am grateful to be heading home. My last day of travel to the airport in Rwanda was overshadowed by a mild case of food poisoning which sapped my strength. Better now as I write from my last layover.

My last 2 days in Congo were more impactful than I can express with words. However, I need to finish telling my story to the best of my ability.

I cannot say I am happy to leave Africa. I have fallen for the Congolese people. And for the refugees who now live in Goma.

What I offered to Uganda and Congo was my love. My son brought wisely placed funding, but all I had was love. On drives people were surprised to see our faces. I smiled at them with all my heart. Often people who looked hard at first – gave in to my sustained smile and returned it. It was a delight each time I broke through. In Uganda it was about 75%, but in Congo more like 30%. At first I thought it was because they had not seen whites before, but my son explained this was not the case. They have encountered whites significantly more often in Congo.

They are more wary.

Children are much quicker to meet me in my smile, but in Congo, there were some tough ones. One girl I specifically remember who would not give in comes to mind. I was standing by the van we arrived in at the first refugee camp, waiting for my son. He and Bienve had climbed a hill and looked over some gardens. This girl, maybe 9 or 10, lingered after the other children I was talking to were dispersed by a man who, it turned out, wanted to ask me for money.

As I waited for my son, leaning against the van with the photographer and 2 protectors (who were once taken as child soldiers), I smiled occasionally at the girl. She barely met my eyes, sustaining a sullen look of something like belligerence. Finally Bienve and my son returned, and as I walked around the van, I smiled again at the girl and saw for an instant the flash of a smile.

These smiles I have received are my richest souvenirs. Though I cannot display them, they live within me.

Deep thanks to Julie, who created this website for me. She posted these posts about my journey while I was away. See info about Julie in the footer at the bottom of the page.

Journey to Goma

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

After the 3-4 hour drive from Kigali, Rwanda we arrived in Goma. We had no trouble, experienced no danger. All was calm at border crossing. No fear, bribery, military stops.

I have a great deal more to say about our impactful first day. But service is bad. I will have to report after we leave. Powers that want the valuable minerals here want to keep others at bay and weaken the tourist industry (safaries) and other industry here, especially in Goma.

I love Congo and her people.

I call for prayers for DRC (Congo).

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Being the ‘Momma’ in Africa

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

While in Africa on this journey with my son, as he attends to his missions (the non-profit groups he founded and co-founded), I have the status of “the Momma.” Sometimes I hear “Hello Mommy” in a restaurant, a park, or informal gathering mostly from a woman. But in formal groups where my son has provided support and funding, I am clearly recognized in an official capacity as my son’s mama (or “Momma”, as I hear it).

This status of Momma is definitely an honor, especially when I am recognized as the mother of my respected son. I am 2nd in order of respect in any of these groups, including head teachers and others of status. I am introduced after him and given substantial credit for the man he is and his good work. They want me to say a few words to the captive audience. And I do. In educational groups where Literate Earth Project is the group represented I say how important books were in our family, how I read to my son from early on. That’s about it, I’m no orator. It was uncomfortable the first time, but I appreciate the recognition that his background and mother are an aspect of who he is, what he does. And I get to express warmth to a group in just a couple of sentences, where I may have only had a chance to speak personally with 2 people.

In DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) there has been less call to talk. When I did speak, I said a few words about love – and especially honoring all children – in my broken French.

Interested in learning more about Remember Youth for Change, the local nonprofit group in Goma, DRC? https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange

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Off to Goma

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

And so I am on my way to Goma. We left at 4 am on the 3-4 hour drive across the border and into the city. There is much to do today. I don’t remember all of what I was told last night when I met the organizer from Goma. I was fighting sleep. We had been 2 days without a bed, flight issues on our way to Rwanda.

I spent less than 24 hours in Rwanda, which does not have my heart the way Uganda does. We were there as tourists, going on a gorilla trek – which was very expensive, and good exercise. I had the experience of looking into the eyes of some gorillas, of seeing them eat, interact and nurse. I realize how fortunate I am.

However, connecting with the gorillas does not carry the value to me that the blessing of human connection does. My daughters would certainly disagree. As would many others, including the passionate ranger who guided us, and who I was grateful to have met.

But humans are my species. I love them. To know them, to be helpful to them is my mission here in this lifetime. It is the same for my son, who is next to me in the car, typing up an annual report for this nonprofit organization that provides funding to these Africans (and globally), on our way to Goma.

This organization that he co-founded is helping so many. I met some of it’s beneficiaries on Monday with an outstanding man in Jinja. He teaches school children who attend schools without electricity to use laptops so they have a chance to succeed in higher grades and to attend college and bring forward movement to their own country rather than holding a vision of emigrating to America.

I had the privilege of witnessing and assisting with an introductory session for 70 students age 11-13 in Jinja, Uganda at a remote school in Jinja district. It is uncertain whether the school will support the rest of the curriculum (5 more sessions). Challenges abound.

Last night in my exhausted state, I missed a lot of what B said about today’s (and tomorrow’s) plans. This is partly due to his “broken” English (far superior to my French). French is the national language in DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo).

I do know that we will go to a church which supports and provides a base and a home for some of the work B is doing with child soldiers ages 12-17. These soldiers, stolen from their homes (often villages burned to capture them), then abused and raped into submission, become outcasts when they escape from the army or are injured. Because of their outcast status, hospitals in the Goma area who find themselves with a minor who has sustained gunshot wounds or other war injuries now call B, (who is a lawyer in the community). The patient is released to him after treatment.

This would not be allowed, due to child soldier status, but the injured minors are integrated into his organization and supported there, along with other refugees of war. This tactic hides their past as a child soldier from the dominant culture. Then B’s organization helps them continue their education, helps find work for them. This provides community, as well as avenues for healing and rejoining their world.

I will also meet some of the beneficiaries of B’s efforts, the child soldiers themselves, and possibly other refugees. I know the day will be full + there will be meals and various people to meet. Much will be in French. I wish I had worked harder, started sooner in my French refresher course.

All prayers and good wishes are welcomed.

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Whether or not to go to DRC (Congo)

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

If you are one who follows the news, you will know that there are reports of a rebel army approaching the city of Goma in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Reports also tell us that food supply lines to Goma are threatened.

My son and I are to spend the final 2 days of this journey in and near Goma.

Over time I have come to feel that some of the stories told by news organizations are just that- stories. Their purpose is to manipulate and create outcomes I do not claim to understand. I am now in a position to make a personal decision based on what I believe.

My son arranged months ago for a resident of Congo to pick us up in Rwanda and drive us across the border. He will be with us at each event and time of transport for our time there, dropping us off at our hotel at the end of the day and picking us up again in the morning. He will also drive us back to Rwanda.

Our hotel has armed guards; this is not a new development.

This man has been an associate of my son’s for 3 years. He works with child soldiers to help stabilize their lives once released (or escaped), and he works to support more than one refugee camps. He is also an attorney. My son trusts him.

My husband is understandably concerned about me going to Congo at all, and specifically to Goma. He has asked me not to. But this journey with my son is important to my relationship with him, and is one in which I decided to trust. I have always planned to accompany my son for the full 8 days. I do not feel fearful.

I decided that I would personally reach out to our host in a text. My son forwarded this message from me:

Hello Bienve –

I have seen your face, I have read about your work with the children, and my son trusts you. My husband is very worried. I want to hear directly from you that there is no cause for concern if we come to your country as planned. No danger to a traveler from the US? No threat of not having food? I am a 68 year old woman who is strong in spirit and well in body. I intend to continue with my plan to accompany my son on this leg of our journey if you tell me there is no cause for concern.

Many blessings.

Annie Breglia

I received this reply:

Hi Annie,

Nice to hear from you. Goma is very safe, people have destroyed the image of Goma because of their own international Mafia. I can’t talk a lot about Goma as you are very closer you will see by your own all things have been well planned and children are prepared well for welcoming you on the field. Can’t wait to meet you, I know you will have a good memory once back home safely. (smiling emoji) Lastly in Goma we have all international organizations working locally and they are safe. Welcome once more and be blessed have a good memory once back home safely. (smiling emoji)

Bienve

And so I am going to complete this trip with my son as planned.

I have no fear or trepidation and plan to continue walking in love.

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Libraries and a Special Person

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

Yesterday we visited 3 Literate Earth Project (LEP) libraries. I very much enjoyed engaging with the children who were 6 – 8. Some of the teachers were also a delight.

My son founded this nonprofit organization when he was in college. He funded it almost completely by himself for several years as libraries were built. Today the organization is on solid financial ground, there are 17 libraries, and he is not longer the CEO. My son is the founder and sits on the advisory board.

People of all ages seem impacted by our whiteness. They may have seen a few Caucasians, but to talk to us and connect with us seems really…somehow moving. As it is with us to truly connect with Africans. I guess we are all realizing and experiencing our “sameness” and connection.

Most people are open and warm. When I sustain a smile even as we pass on the street, they have to, want to, give in and smile too. Not always, but predominantly. It’s lovely.

I also met a man named Kuol Kuol from South Sudan today. He was abducted from his home as a child to fill the ranks of child soldiers. I wanted to know at what age, but he changed the subject.

Being a child soldier is a subject of great shame. It’s surprising that he even disclosed it.

Kuol comes from a tribe where the men take the same name as their grandfather, the great-great-grandfather, and so on, skipping a generation in between. Kuol’s great-grandfather, his father and his first son also share a double (repeated) name. (I can’t recall the name.) There is strength in this, he told me.

Kuol identifies as a Christian, “but,” he says, he receives “pictures” and messages from his ancestors. This feels so aligned with my work as a shamanic practitioner.

Kuol is passionate about teaching at a refugee camp in Northern Uganda. He is engaged with a large LEP library there, and he joined us on this day to learn more about how he could best help the refugee children at the library. He also has ideas about improving fishing and farming undertakings for the war refugees. He hopes to implement them, and my son hopes to play a role in this.

I am blown away by this young man, in his early 20s. He’s been through so much, and applies himself to the needs of others in a way that is remarkably selfless. He seems to be an outstanding human. He appears to be kindness personified; I saw him engage with children at the libraries today, and with the toddler at dinner at the LEP director’s home. They all, We all, love him.

Somehow the work Kuol does for others must heal his wounds. That’s my sense.

Remarkably, he has also met and been impacted by the Dalai Llama. And really, this makes complete sense to me. Two gentle spirits. Both displaced from their homes, both helping others.

As we parted ways, I told him about my work in the way of the ancient tribal healer, and let him know that if people cannot pay, there is no charge for the help. I know that he knows many who are deeply wounded. It would be a blessing if I had the opportunity to help.

Interested in learning more about or donating to the Literate Earth Project? https://www.theliterateearthproject.org

Private sessions are offered in person and remotely by phone or video conference. Contact Annie to book a session, host a workshop, for sliding scale rates or to discuss barter arrangements.

My Native American journey

by 8hummingbirdway

I have recently been writing about my spiritual search and journey in my life.

My search began as I was sitting in the home of my mother-in-law (from my first marriage) as she was dying. Her death raised questions for me that informed my search going forward. Mary Cuddihy Diefendorf was a Catholic mystic and she had some compelling books on her bookshelf – a couple about Native American spirituality. I took them with me after her death, knowing that she would be glad to have me take an interest. These books first sparked my interest in answering important questions and in Native American spiritual beliefs.

A moment to tell about Mary. She was a kind and loving person who carried wisdom. My favorite memory of her is the way she fully embraced my sister’s child, who I had adopted, as her own grandchild. (Not everyone in the family felt this way.) One of my favorite photographs is of her on the front steps of her home in heart shaped glasses – laughing along with my daughter and her cousin – both about 4. I also thank Mary for the start of my journey and for her books which landed me where I am today.

A book that will forever be on my bookshelf is Return of the Bird Tribes by Ken Carey. It holds many stories, including a story of Hiawatha as a young man. Hiawatha was a legendary chief (c. 1450) of the Onondaga tribe of North American Indians. He is known most famously for uniting the Five Nations—Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, Oneida and Mohawk—into a political confederacy of 5 chiefs which was the basis for the United States structure of government, with it’s 3 branches: legislative, executive, and judicial.

[Interestingly, the fact that the elder women of the tribes held the highest power was not adopted by our forefathers. Each chief worked with his clan mother and any chief could be removed by the women of the tribe. Of course American women were not yet free citizens, but were the property of their father or husband when our government was formed, and not full citizens until 1922, and not allowed to open a bank account until 1974. They couldn’t very well hold real responsibility.]

My favorite story in this book was the story of White Buffalo Calf Woman who brought the pipe to the Sioux. I don’t think I have ever been so moved by anything I have read. I have wept every time I’ve read it. For the beautiful telling, for the loss of so much – so many people, their ways of life and the nature of life itself on this continent. This story tells of how White Buffalo Calf Woman brought the peace pipe to a tribal gathering and instructed the Sioux Chief and his people in the sacred ritual of smoking tobacco together. There were seven rounds of passing the pipe. Each person in the gathering smoked once for Great Spirit, then one smoke each for Mother Earth, the animals, the Ongwhehonwhe (humans who remain true to reality), the spirit beings that surround the individual smoker, and 6 people you would like to see especially blessed. “The seventh smoke, she explained must always be taken in silence; for it was offered to the Great Being from which every being was drawn. For that sacred mystery at the source of life, it was better, she said, to have no words.”

The gift of the pipe changed everything for the members of the tribe. I know from personal experience that a question considered with these 7 aspects in one’s heart results in a wiser, more compassionate, and more expansive decision. This is the gift of the pipe ceremony and a part of the heritage of the Sioux.

I was in my 40s and I wanted to bring this practice into my life. A friend told me of a woman in Illinois named Elizabeth Standing Badger who made sacred pipes. He had her address and I wrote to her. I was asked to write another letter – about myself and about why I wanted the pipe. I did, and she consented to make a personal pipe for me. I had sent her payment, and months later I received a beautiful yet simple pipe and a letter telling me of her process in making it for me, including holding it outside through 2 thunderstorms. (If I had truly been wise, I would have saved that letter, and I would know what tribe Elizabeth was from.) There was a snake on it – as I had explained that I felt closely aligned with Snake – creature of change and transformation (as demonstrated by the shedding of skin). As I write, I remember other symbols that decorated the pipe in yellow, orange and red. It is packed away now, from our recent move, in a box with other sacred items.

I have not used the pipe for many years. The part of the stem that goes into the bowl needs work, which I started, and hope to pick up again when the time is right.

I was later told that a person should make their own pipe, but I would not have known how. My need felt immediate, and I am deeply grateful for my pipe. Deep thanks also to Elizabeth Standing Badger, wherever she may be.

I used my pipe as White Buffalo Calf Woman instructed for the better part of 2 decades, At times I smoked daily, and later weekly, or as needed. I smoked the seven smokes mostly on my own, but sometimes with others – especially when important things were to be said or decisions were to be made.

[I had smoked cigarettes as a teenager, had quit in my early 20s, and I initially used kinnikinnick in my pipe, a Native American combination of leaves. I was later drawn to smoke pure organic tobacco, and I experienced an ebb and flow with it for several years.]

I have taken out my pipe at this writing and reminder, and it now sits in my work space, calling to me.

When I return to the pipe, it will be with a more deep and full understanding of the 7 smokes, especially the 5th smoke to the spirit beings that surround me. These are my helping spirits, who I journey to and now know well – through my Shamanic training and work. This work aligns with all tribal origins on all 7 continents. My helping spirits are blessed allies who support me on my path. This help is available to all.

There is more to this story, which I will tell another day, telling of how and why my search turned to other sources of the sacred that are not strictly Native American.

Private sessions are offered in person and remotely by phone or video conference. Contact Annie to book a session, host a workshop, for sliding scale rates or to discuss barter arrangements.

“Steadfastly I Go”

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

I heard the Muslim call to prayer broadcast over the city of Kampala, Uganda this morning and rose to add my prayers in my own daily tradition. I have realized that it is my task to call my beloved son back to himself by speaking truth with love and compassion. His journey has not been easy (nor is anyone’s journey), but the time for allowing distortion to stand without opposition is past. 

On another note – we are scheduled to be in Goma, DRC (Congo) in 3 days and the news stories are alarming. However I believe that they are just that – stories. 

We are in touch with my son’s host there, who will be our guide. He will pick us up from Rwanda and bring us to his country, where his chosen work is to help child soldiers who were once stolen from their beds and have now escaped or been spit out by the army. These youths are rejected, not honored or healed and restored to well-being in their culture. He helps them to find employment, education, support and a place in their world once again. 

I have decided to trust this man when he assures us that we will be safe, that nothing has changed in Goma. I do not expect to change my plans, but to stay on course. My heart is full. 

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