The Africa Posts
We drove deep into the camp, perhaps another half mile, parked, got out, and started to walk around the “homes.”
“UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency, provides emergency protection and assistance to keep them safe, including shelter, access to clean water, food, medical care and help to reunite families.” Based on my limited experience, the refugees you will see in the photos of this website have had showers, new clothing and more food than the people I met. https://www.unrefugees.org/refugee-facts/?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiAoeGuBhCBARIsAGfKY7xSF1MSr_Vv3dR7Hap0A6stsKZcbOWj-jw958SWNJdWD0zMDGeL5H8aAnmwEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds
I am glad to hear about the clean water, food and medical care – and the reuniting of families. I didn’t see any of that, although I did use the sanitary facilities, visited some individual shelters and one larger structure designated as a church.
The tiny homes, about 5′ X 5′, were the main substance of the camp. We entered 3 families’ homes on this day. Although the website shows homes with thatched roofs, these homes were all wrapped in white plastic (like Tyvek) – sides and ceiling – with a door cut out, and the same plastic covered the home. There were white plastic room dividers inside, separating the sleeping area, with one or two mats, from the empty rest of the shelter. That’s it. There were no clothes in evidence aside from what the people are wearing. In one home I saw a small bowl of stems with leaves, but most of these shelters were completely empty aside from the sleeping mats in the sleeping room, 1-2″ high. Some of these mats had frames of some sort, and some seemed to be a pile of fabric.
We walked through the maze of these small cube homes. They stretched on and on. The ground in much of Goma, and in this refugee camp, was made of lava from a volcanic eruption in May 2021. The rocks and dust from the residue of that eruption was not easy to walk on. As an older person, I had to watch every step. The ground was hard and uneven; I could perceive the flow from 3 years ago.
Bienve, director of Remember Youth For Change https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange guided us left and right; he had secured permission for us to enter 3 homes. The first 2 were simple 2 room units and one had the bowl of stems + leaves I mentioned. The third home was the same size as all the others, but had been divided into 3 rooms. The residents here were a very pregnant very slim woman and her 4 or 5 small children. It was noted that there would soon be an additional resident. I tried to talk to the woman, but she was not responsive. (My French is not great and I don’t know her familiarity with French.) She seemed overwhelmed. I slipped my simple wooden beaded bracelet from my left arm onto her right one and there was an instant of silence. It wasn’t something I thought out, just an “instinctual” act, although I have thought of it many times since. I hope there were trades she could make using my simple gift. Perhaps this is unrealistic. I have no idea of the culture of the camp. What has value (each bead?).
After the visits, we continued on. At one point my son, a soccer player, came across a few boys with an almost unrecognizable brown soccer ball. He gestured to engage with them/challenge them, and the group of 4 or 5 moved in an animated way across the rough lava ground for several minutes.
As for me, I have always been a lover of children. And there was no shortage of children – everywhere! I offered my smile. And the children responded. They recognized my genuine smile and allowed themselves to be drawn to me. Smiles, laughter, openheartedness. There was talk – mostly me saying “Je ne comprends pas,” (I don’t understand) but sometimes I would come up with a word “hand,” “foot,” “friend,” “amour.” I wish I had thought of “song.” I would have loved a song, just from the children. I did say my name occasionally and asked theirs which I didn’t retain at all. After a few more minutes of walking along, I had a large group of children around me touching me, 2-3 holding each hand/arm. For me, this was a delight beyond all others. They read my heart, returned my smile, and I laughed with them and was even more careful with my steps on the uneven ground.
My son and Bienve were maybe 30 ft ahead and they stopped every few minutes. I would do my best to catch up. A couple times I lost sight of them, but then I saw a flash of my son’s shirt down the row between some shelters, and turned that way.
Most of the women we passed smiled at me now, where there faces had been empty when we drove into the camp. I became more comfortable and said a timid and warm “Bonjour” to each woman we passed.
This was the highest joy of my experience in Africa. Children surrounding me with open hearts. The open warm smiles of mothers in loss. A meeting and connection of humanity, of laughter and smiles – and simple joy and fullness for me.
These are the connections one can make: a soccer challenge, smiles, the gift of a bracelet. (It was perhaps a help that we wouldn’t have been able to communicate with language.) These gifts come from an openness on both sides to engage as humans. There is giving and receiving on both sides and true connection results, even if only for an instant.
When I say this was “the trip of a lifetime,” – it is these moments I return to.
My son had said he came on the journey this year with a specific hope to reconnect to his inspiration. The nonprofit work for him had lost something. I felt it was the human connection. He was very involved in the assessment of the funded work, the local organization and local leaders who had secured help and funding, as well as discussion future plans. On this day – having engaged with a soccer ball and several youths, he decided that he would purchase 2 soccer balls that evening and bring them to our outing the next day at the larger refugee camp outside of Goma. (His first connection to Africa was through bringing soccer to a remote village in Uganda.)
Just before we left, Bienve brought a woman over to the vehicle who, he said, would give away some of my gifts, more to the pregnant mother, and some to others. I had a pair of glasses (I had more at home) some scarves, a turquiose stone, some earrings, a feather, some hair clips, I can’t recall what else – and he allowed me to give them to her and save the rest for tomorrow’s refugee camp.
Deep thanks to my friend who said, when she heard I was going to Africa, “What gifts will you bring?”
One last thought. Although I did not feel a personal connection with the pregnant woman, I have thought of her often. I hope that the child was planted in her womb by her mate, who she is without, at least for now. Perhaps forever.
I know there will be additional burden with the coming of this child. I hope there is some blessing for her as well.
My son says there is nothing I can do for her specifically, that I can donate to Remember Youth for Change https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange or to his (my son’s) organization that helps so many.
But I am more of a one to one person. I keep thinking of a personal sponsoring for this woman and for one other person I met in Congo.
My son would say that I would risk unwise use of any funds provided, and I know this is true.
There is more to tell of this visit.
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8 hummingbird way 