Rwanda Diary

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Some last thoughts about being in the Congo:

Toilet Facilities
I’d been using the indoor facilities at the workshop site.  To say it was “indoor plumbing” would be a stretch.  Typical of most of the indoor spots in both countries, it had a toilet, but not one that flushed.  There was, however, a large tub of water and a jug that one uses to pour in some H₂O after one has finished.  On the third day, I noticed that I had been the only one of our group using this indoor site.  When I asked about it, it was explained that the others had been told to use the outdoor, traditional toilet to save on the cost of water.  To tell the truth, I was happy to have been excluded from that announcement.

The UN Presence in the Congo

On our shopping afternoon, I saw a few UN jeeps go by and commented on them.  This started a discussion  about the nature of the UN presence in the Congo and the general confusion about it.  What the population sees, it was explained to me, are well-maintained cars and trucks with plenty of fuel, carrying well-dressed and clean “peacekeepers” and other UN personnel who get plenty to eat.  What they don’t see, apparently, is any intervention by the peacekeepers, even when there is blatant crime and violence while the UN personnel are present.  This has caused growing uncertainty and even hostility on the part of the Congolese toward the United Nations.  According to the United Nations’ own site, this is their definition of peacekeeping:

Peacekeeping is a way to help countries torn by conflict create conditions for sustainable peace. UN peacekeepers—soldiers and military officers, police and civilian personnel from many countries—monitor and observe peace processes that emerge in post-conflict situations and assist conflicting parties to implement the peace agreement they have signed. Such assistance comes in many forms, including promoting human security, confidence-building measures, power-sharing arrangements, electoral support, strengthening the rule of law, and economic and social development.

It’s understandable, then, how an uneducated and desperately poor population could misunderstand the UN’s role, especially when there is such a seemingly huge economic gap between the UN’s personnel and the general population.

No Governmental Support for Initiatives
Unlike in Rwanda, where the government does take responsibility for some of their major infrastructure projects and does occasionally offer some assistance for local initiatives, there is no such governmental support in the Congo. 

Some industrious people, tired of waiting for the government, have taken matters into their own hands.  Here are two examples, one that shows incredible entrepreneurial spirit and one that is a perfect illustration of non-violent direct action.

In a neighborhood typical of the one I wrote about earlier in which the electricity was spotty at best, one of its residents decided that he no longer trusted, or wanted to wait for, the government.  He purchased a huge generator, hooked the neighborhood houses up to it, and now everyone has electricity when they want it.  His neighbors pay him (instead of the national electric company) enough to keep the generator going, plus something for him to maintain it.

In another neighborhood where the road had been scraped flat (not a small undertaking) in preparation for paving, the workers had said they would be back to surface it in a matter of days.  Weeks went by with no further action on the road.  In the meantime, noting the very unusual occurrence of a flat road, drivers were zipping through the neighborhood quickly, stirring up a cloud of dust through which the residents couldn’t even see their hands.  So they did what they could to slow the cars to their former snail’s pace: they collected sharp lava rocks of all sizes and spread them out on the road, causing the cars to go extremely slowly through their neighborhood in order to avoid blowing out tires or ripping off transmissions and other car parts!

Their Final Sentiments
Before I left the seminar, the group presented me with several gifts:

For my funder in the States, a card signed by many of the participants and a large volcanic rock.  There was a hole in the rock into which they had placed a little flower, representing the seed of peace they said I had planted in their harsh environment.

I also received a card, and a handmade caftan from some tie-died cloth.

Here are the translations of the inscriptions in our cards.  It’s clear that their gratitude was immeasurable, although I learned at least as much from them as they did from me.

Translation/Transcription of the Funder’s Thank You Card from Congolese Workshop Participants:

1.    We thank you to have made it possible for Jan Arnow to come and share her knowledge.  We have been blessed by her presence.  We promise to put what we learnt in practice.  May God bless you in all you do.

2.    I thank you for having sent Jan Arnow to come and tell us about Interfaith.  May God provide you with His peace.

3.    May God bless you from the workshop Jan had with us with our input in the Congo.  May peace come back to the Congo with your contribution (of Jan’s time here).  

4.    We are very thankful to the messenger that you sent to give us these instructions that are constructive.  May the everlasting God strengthen for you this spirit of brotherhood with Africans.

5.    Thank you for having sent this messenger of peace to our country, which is characterized by divisions of communities, insurrections and hatred.  Thank you for thinking about this outside country.  May the peace of the Lord, Jesus Christ, together with your preaching, get all nations.

6.    I am honored to greet you and thank you for the good act of sending us Jan Arnow to come and teach us about this very valuable material for three consecutive days.  I am so much satisfied and wish you a great prosperity in your activities of charity.  Thank you.

7.    We are very much thankful and grateful of how you sent us Jan Arnow as a messenger for peace in Congo, our country.  Thanks to you.

8.    It was so nice to hear from Jan that you made her trip to D.R. Congo possible.  Her training on interfaith relations has been very inspiring to us.  We thank you very much for your generosity and good will.  May God bless you.

Translation/Transcription of My Thank You Card from Congolese Workshop Participants:

1.    We thank you for your participatory method and spirit of humanity.  We invite you again.

2.    We thank you for your contribution and participation of our workshop in the Congo.  May the good God bless you.

3.    Thank you so much for your sacrifice to our favor for we have gained from you and we received a precious armor, which will help us fight for peace.  Please don’t stop here.  Thank you.

4.    I thank you for the courage and devotion, which have characterized you during the workshop form which we have gained from your side.  We make a joyful noise for your humanitarian vision, which we are going to plan to implement in the world: the culture of peace and pacific cohabitation and equality of human beings. God bless you.

5.    Thanks and congratulations.  Dear Madame Janne: I am so glad to see you arrive in the Congo to train us and give us knowledge which is very much from your experience.  May God bless you.  I wish you come back as soon as possible so the material that we have learned will be much dug (as in “digging in the brain”).

6.    Dear Jan, Your coming to Goma has been a great blessing to us. The seed you have sown will grow up and contribute to build peace in Congo, our country.  Many, many thanks to you.

7.    Dear Jan, I really appreciate the leadership training concerning Interfaith Relations, during these days.  It was so inspiring and it has solidified what we have learned before.  We trust that this training will not be the last.  Thank you very much.

8.    It has been a blessing from the moment I saw you.  Thanks for sharing your knowledge with us.  I believe this is the beginning of a lasting relationship.  May God strengthen you as you work, may His light shine upon you!

Leaving the Congo
Immediately after the close of the workshop, Camarade, Zawadi and Innocent drove me back to the border. Because no visa is required to enter Rwanda, they were able to accompany me into “no man’s land,” helping me with my bags and with the multiple stops I had to make through the volcanic cinders and stones to show my passport, then my Congolese visa, then fill out the entry card for Rwanda and, finally, to show my luggage.  When I was asked how many more days I’d be in Rwanda before leaving to return to the States, I said less than a week.  “It’s not worth it to check your bags then,” the guard said, waving me off with his hand.

Celestine  was waiting for me on the Rwandan border, along with Emmanuel, the brother of one of my CIRR participants, Theoneste.  After many exclamations and hugs (an observer would have thought that I’d just been released from prison after a long and arduous stay except there were no CNN reporters around), we were on our way again back to Kigali.

To pass the time, they taught me a lot of new Kinyarwandan words, and then we sang songs to each other. They started with their national anthem.  I responded with mine.  (If anyone had ever told me that I would be driving along a highway in Rwanda doing a fairly good interpretation of the opening of the Super Bowl, I would have bet him or her money against it.)  They sang some religious songs, harmonizing in their deep voices, and I sang them a medley of my favorites: Trouble in Mind, Tell Old Bill, I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter, You Are My Sunshine, Summertime, There Is Nothin' Like A Dame, I Love You a Bushel and a Peck, and Johnny I Hardly Knew You. They gave me what I’m assuming (and hoping) was a wonderful compliment: “You sing like an Ethiopian!”

Sights Along the Way
We didn’t stop along the way like we did on our way to the Congo because we wanted to get back to Kigali in 3 or 4 hours, so I didn’t take pictures of these things.  But I thought I’d mentioned them so when you’re reading these, please feel free to render them in full color with your imagination:

• Women in full African dress working on paving the road…by hand
• Mud houses on a cliff
• The Lord is Our Savior Saloon
• A small child carrying water on his head with his baby brother on his back
• A mosque in the middle of nowhere
• Tea and coffee plantations
• A sea of blue uniforms running down a hill as school lets out
• The results of a giant wreck involving two big trucks on a small road
• Children running after the car yelling, “Umuzungu!  Ichupa!” which meant, “White person!  Bottles!”  They were asking for our used, empty water bottles so they’d have something in which to take water to school.

Dinner at Cecile’s House
We got back just in time to change clothes, drop off the bags, and head out to Cecile’s house for dinner.  As with the other homes I’ve visited, friends, neighbors and relatives were also invited because having a respected guest is a special occasion. 

And it was, indeed, a special dinner: pasta, French fries, white sweet potatoes, plantains, roasted ears of corn, rice, stewed greens, some meat and sauce.  I asked if they eat this way every night and, laughing, they told me that this was the kind of meal that they make only as a Christmas feast, or when having very special company.  It was such an honor to be invited to Cecile’s home, modest though it was, and to be considered such a privileged visitor.

Dinner at Zainabo’s House
The next day was for planning, writing and preparing for my final workshop beginning the following day.  And dinner that evening was at the home of another workshop participant and friend, Zainabo.  This time it was light enough out when I arrived that I was able to be shown around the house.  Zainabo’s husband, who was working late that night at the Heineken plant, is Catholic, but she and her children, several of whom were with us for dinner along with other relatives, are Muslim.  The meal was much the same as the night before, with the addition of deliciously seasoned rice and cassava leaves.

Zainabo’s little 3-year-old niece was there, too, and as the television was on, we were all half-watching an American soap opera that had been dubbed in French.  The hilarious moment of the evening came when this little girl, having seen the leading man try to kiss the leading woman on the television, shouted out in Kinyarwandan, “Don’t you put your mouth on her!!!!”  Everyone howled!  Looks like this little one might be successful in avoiding sexual abuse when she grow up!

Then, finally, back to my room and my mosquito net for a bit of shut-eye before starting my fifth, and last, workshop of the trip.

Congo Training, Day 3

This time when we checked in with each other at the opening of the third day of training, people were finally ready to talk. 

Sharing Their Feelings
One man said that he works with an association of women and they were having problems.  Some of the women were even stealing and selling each others’ belongings.  He thought about the parable I had related the day before,** and about the violence pyramid, and he's now going to look for the causes of the quarrels.

Another said:
“Thank you for letting me speak.  (This sentence was repeated by everyone who spoke.)  Your teachings match what we are facing here in Congo today.  They are very valuable.”

And another spoke up:
“Before you came, I was losing heart.  I have raised 18 children, none of them my own.  Many are not even aware of their differences.  So your lessons about collaboration were very valuable.”

And another:
“I compared this seminar to others we have had.  I saw that this is a shortcut to peace.  You have been emphasizing leadership and how we can help resolve conflict.  When people collaborate and work together, peace can be found faster.  I compare your pyramid model to the situation in this region.  At the bottom was before the war.  In the middle were signs of coming war.  Then at the top: war.  When we squeezed into the top, it was like people fleeing and entering the camps.  People there are still in the top, are still suffering, weeping, and the numbers are increasing.”

And still more:
“These skills, especially about knowing our environment and building trust, are so valuable.  Also, power with people is a new concept for us because our leaders use power over.  And the fifth skill – that we need to teach each other – works with the sixth skill: that we first need to know ourselves.”

“Your pyramid of violence model will be good for our work in the camps.  It is very valuable.”

“These teachings really brought back our hope.  I see many leaders leading with power over, never power with.  But in this situation these teachings will help us reduce conflicts.  Even in our households, especially for mothers.  They never learned this.  You speak of gender balance and without it you have one of the roots of conflict in homes and communities.  We now see how leaders can help with that.”

“We will not only work with this new interfaith group, but each of us is taking these lessons to our individual congregations, cooperatives, groups and families.  Our Mother (he was referring to me!  Age does have its benefits.) has equipped us, given us tools, to create peace and reduce conflicts.”

Laying the Groundwork for This New Interfaith Coalition
It was clear that they were on the right track.  After several more exercises that stressed communication, gaining alignment, stress and burnout, diversity issues  and getting what they needed in order to do the necessary work, and then lunch where they chatted excitedly (I think it was about the workshop, but they could have been saying, "Hurry before that old white lady takes all the pineapple!"),  we began to talk about different types of interfaith communities.  I next asked them to work in small groups to discuss this question: “What can you do together as a group that you couldn’t do alone?”  After lunch, we regrouped and I answered questions for about an hour. 

Then it was time for them to answer some big questions:

1.    What do you want to call your group?

2.    Who will you choose as members of a transitional  “executive committee” to lead your interfaith group into the next months of work together?

Interestingly, their first response was to vote for the committee members, even after all of our conversations and discussions about consensus building!  All of this really was pretty new to them, so I said, laughing, “No!  We’re not going to vote!  When you vote, there’s a winner and a loser.  Anyone here want to be a loser???” 

They snapped out of that mode pretty quickly and began to cautiously dip their toes into the consensus pond.  We didn’t have enough time together to carry out a flawless consensus process, so as a compromise they ended up with two people sharing the job of President, two people sharing the job of Vice President, a Treasurer, a Secretary, and two “Advisors,” or members-at-large.  This is probably for the best since it’s going to be more difficult to get people together in Goma than in Kigali, and job-sharing might prove more practical in this part of the world, at least for the transition team.

Naming the group was easier.  They felt that since there was already a sister group in Kigali named the Center for Interfaith Relations of Rwanda (CIRR), they should name themselves the Center for Interfaith Relations of the Congo (CIRC), and then be mentored by CIRR.

And thus was born what we believe to be the first interfaith association in the Congo’s history.

(Tomorrow: Leaving the Congo and the Return to Rwanda)

** The Parable of the River

Once upon a time there was a small village on the edge of a river.  The people there were good and life in the village was good. One day a villager noticed a man floating downstream in the river, flailing about and drowning.  A Hero was walking by and the villager asked the Hero to save the man.  So he quickly swam out to save the man from drowning. The next day this same villager noticed two men floating downstream in the river, also drowning.  He called to the Hero for help, and both men were rescued from the swift waters.  And the following day four men were seen caught in the turbulent downstream current.   And then eight, then more, and still more! 

The villagers organized themselves quickly, imploring the Hero to continue to save the drowning men.  Finally, the Hero said, “No!  I won’t jump in the water anymore!” 

“But, why not?” they asked.  Surely all the men will die!”

"Because I’m going to go upstream to find out who’s throwing all of these men into the river in the first place!  If I can find out who is throwing them in, we can stop the problem and no more men will drown!”

Training in the Congo, Day 2

After another silent breakfast at the convent, Camarade picked me up for our second day of training.  We began by “checking in” with each other, something they are not yet used to doing as their culture teaches them to hold their feelings inside of them, not unlike the Rwandans.

Blindfolded Star
I officially opened the day’s training with one of my favorite exercises: The Blindfolded Star.   (I usually do this outside in a large space, but the ground outside the training room was dangerously peppered with lava rocks and stones.  I knew if I was blindfolded, I’d soon find myself scraping my hands and knees in the cinders so we did this exercise within the confines of the training room.)

I asked everyone to stand up and gather around to watch me take two large rope circles and lay them on the floor, overlapping them in two intersecting triangles, to form a six-pointed star.  I asked if anyone thought they could do this and they all said they thought they could.  I asked them how many of them would describe themselves as being collaborative.  Once again, they all raised their hands.  So I divided them into two groups, made certain that the first group understood that their task was to repeat what I had made on the floor, and then added an additional requirement: they had to do this task blindfolded!  After tying on all the blindfolds, I handed the two pieces of rope to two different participants and told them to begin the exercise.  As always, it was hilarious to see the various members of the group trying to coordinate with each other enough to even approximate the shape I had made.  And, as always, there were people who actively tried to maneuver by themselves with no coordination with others, some who stood completely immobile, and still others who used some of the senses they had left – hearing/speaking and touch, in particular – to try to complete their assigned task.  Needless to say, the first group didn’t come close to forming a star. 

The follow-up discussion centered on what was missing – a leader! – and on how difficult it had been to function without someone directing their efforts.  When the second group tried it, several people stepped forward to assume leadership and their “star” was much more complete. 

As I had done last year with the Rwandan group, I explained that there had been a study by one of our leading foundations in the United States (the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation) that identified a number of critical skills and capacities that collaborative leaders needed to have:

They are:

1. Assessing the environment for collaboration (understanding the context for change before you act)

2. Creating clarity -- visioning and mobilizing (defining shared values and engaging people in positive action)

3. Building trust and creating safety (creating safe places for developing shared purpose and action, especially important in this region of the world)

4. Sharing power and influence (developing the synergy of people, organizations and communities to accomplish common goals)

5. Developing people (mentoring and coaching; committing to bringing out the best in others and realizing people are your key assets)

6. Self-reflection (being aware of and understanding your values, attitudes and behaviors as they relate to your own leadership style and their impact on others.

Each of these elements, I explained, is key to the collaborative process. They are not mutually exclusive but support each other and provide a comprehensive picture of the essential skills of a collaborative leader.

So, I said, here’s the real question:

Do you want to establish your interfaith group as empire (dividing and conquering), or as community (coming together and sharing)?  Again, the question came down to power over, or power with.

They all agreed that the history of their country had evolved through the former...and not very well, either…and that power with was their best course.

A Lunch Break
During lunch, I ventured out back again to say hello to the cooks (and the baby that had been sleeping on the back of one of the  women the day before but this day was just finishing up a rice meal), and realized that the small space was doubling as a sewing school for area women.  Like many parts of the Great Lakes Region, there are countless widows and women who, for one reason or another, need to be the primary income earners (if at all possible) for their families.  This group of women was being taught to sew through a cooperative started by Immaculee, one of my workshop participants, and the class was in full swing with ancient hand-wheeled Singer sewing machines.  Since many of the garments worn by these Africans are made by hand rather than mass-produced (especially for the women who still, for the most part, wear traditional dress) sewing is as good a potential source of income as any for these women. 

The Training Continues
The day proceeded as before – pause café, more exercises, discussions,  small group work, slowing down as the room got hotter and hotter.  There was a slight breeze that rattled one of the large sheets of paper on the wall, and before I could tear off another piece of tape to anchor the paper to the wall more securely, someone got up and shut the windows!  Aaaccck!  Luckily, it was just hot, not hot and humid. 

Despite the heat, we covered coalition building, diversity issues, turfism and conflict.  During lunch I had laid out a model of my violence pyramid model on the floor with tape and that lesson following lunch, I believe, had more impact on the group than any of them.  The premise is that conflict and violence (or any social problem) is like an iceberg.  (Despite living near the equator, they all recognized this picture of an iceberg!)  Only the tip of the iceberg shows above the water.  Similarly, only the action component of the problem (in the case of violence and conflict that would be rapes, murders, fighting, etc.) showed.  But what creates and supports those actions are the structural and cultural causes of violence and conflict.  Another way to describe this, I explained, is to think of an earthquake – the earthquake is the action, or direct “violence;” the movement of the tectonic plates is the structural piece, and the fault line on which the tectonic plates sit is the real origin of the earthquake.

Further, when people are stuck in the “tip of the iceberg,” their only responses are one of the three “F’s” – fight, flight or freeze.  I demonstrated this by asking for 4 volunteers to first step into the largest part of the pyramid, and then moved them up through the middle section to the tip.  Naturally, they wanted to push the others aside to give themselves more room, or to leave the section altogether.  We talked a lot about the ramifications of this model and how they could use it in their work, both as individuals and as a group.  I think this is when the light really came on for this cohort.

Another Excursion After Work
Zawadi, Innocent and Camarade wanted to take me to see the refugee camps after work, but before we could get out the door we were met by a family from the camps who came to beg for money. Zawadi told me that this is not an unusual occurrence.  Each family gets a monthly ration of food – beans, rice, that sort of thing – but the food runs out way before the month does, even with careful planning on the family’s part.  With no source of income inside the camps, many families leave for the day and walk the miles into Goma to see what they can either forage or beg.  I gave them some money for which they were very grateful and talked with them for a little bit.  This family consisted of a grandmother, a young girl, and a mother with a nursing baby and another on her back.  I was especially sad when I realized that the grandmother might easily be as many as 20 years younger than I am.

We drove out to two IDP (internally displaced persons) refugee camps – first an official UN camp and then an “unofficial” camp where refugees had moved when unhappy with the official site (although I couldn’t tell the difference) – and I was not allowed to leave the car because 1) we hadn’t received permission to visit, and 2) it was potentially dangerous for me to do so. 

The conditions were appalling.  These packed, squalid pieces of land have been home to thousands of people, in some cases for years on end.  It was a living nightmare.  The ground, like in other places in Goma, was solid volcanic rock.  The dwellings, if you could even morally call them that, were constructed of reeds over which thatch would be attached, with plastic tarps on top of that reading, “UN-HCR” or “USAID” on them.  They were not tall enough in which to stand; yet entire families lived in each of them.  Smack up against another hut.  And then another.  And then another.  I wanted to get out and talk with people, and when I return to the Congo I will make sure I get permission in advance.  I can’t imagine living in these conditions.

On our way back to town, we stopped at a place they called Green Lake because they wanted to show me that among the deprivation there is also some beauty.  And it was extraordinarily beautiful – a lovely green lake at the bottom of high cliff walls surrounding it, looking almost like a crater lake.

There was a family there and I asked if they were having a picnic.  “No,” Zawadi explained.  “These people come to wash their clothes.”  They climb all the way down to the lake because this water is free.  They’re not having a picnic.  They’re resting.”

We take so much for granted in our lives.

Training in the Congo: Day One, Part 2

(Continued from previous post)

After everyone had a chance to show off their Lego sculptures and explain their visions of peace, I asked if anyone knew why I had chosen to take so long on the introductions.  Their answers were all similar and right on the money – because we didn’t know each other and, especially in this culture of instability, it takes time to learn about one another.  Further, we couldn’t be sure we were in a psychologically safe place until we had taken the time to get to know one another.

Equity Perspective
To broaden their understanding about each of us having potentially different worldviews, I next placed some objects on the floor in the middle of our circle – a roll of tape, some markers, Legos and pens.  I then asked each of them to describe what they saw in just a few words.  “A design with many colors.”  “A circle.”  “These are materials we are using in this seminar.”  “Things gathered together.”  “A window of a house.”  And, of course, “Pens, marker and tape.” 

“Which description is correct?” I asked.  “All of them,” they replied after a few seconds.  Obviously, that’s right, and it was the first part of the equity perspective they were to learn about: no two people share exactly the same world view; and even though we in the room were each different from one another, all of our perceptions were valid and “correct.” 

After going over the day’s agenda  and some basic rules of the seminar, adding some that the participants suggested, we had our first pause café with Fanta.

Designing Pathways
The next part of the seminar was the exercise about designing pathways between a series of office buildings that had been built around a central green.  I stated the problem as this:

An architect in Goma built a cluster of office buildings around a central green space.

When construction was completed in the spring and the buildings were occupied, the landscape crew tried to find the architect to ask him where he wanted the sidewalks, but he’d already left the Congo for his next assignment in Burundi.

Their challenge was to take over the architect’s job and come up with the best way to determine where to place the paved paths between and around the buildings.

They worked together in small groups for about 15 minutes and then shared their solutions.  The first thing I noticed was that, unlike any of my other groups, they each restated the entire problem as though we had never heard it before.  The second thing I noticed was before any of them spoke, they said, “Thank you for letting me speak.” This held true throughout the entire 3-day workshop.  Furthermore, whenever taking anything I offered – pens, papers, notebooks, anything – they held out both hands, palms up, as though they were being offered something of value and were gracefully, and gratefully, accepting it with enormous respect.  A small difference in cultures, but noticed.

Their solutions to the exercise varied, of course, from group to group, the most interesting (to me) being the one solution that removed the green space entirely and paved it with roads to keep the lion population down, thereby keeping the population safe!  The only thing common to all the groups was that the structures went from being office buildings in the original problem description to houses or churches!  As usual with this exercise, no one had thought to ask the residents of the buildings what their needs were.

We then took some time to talk about the lesson in this exercise: sometimes we think we know what’s best, but often the best resolution is to work with the people we are serving to determine together the best solution for all.  In other words, using power with rather than power over.  Not surprisingly, they were able to relate easily to this maxim, connecting it to their own government’s inability to work with their people to jointly discover solutions to the many social and infrastructure problems in the Congo.

Lunch, then Back to Work
Leaving them chatting together, I ducked out the back of the structure to see about lunch preparations.  As in Rwanda, almost all food is cooked in aluminum pots over charcoal braziers (or, more simply, just over rocks holding in the charcoal) and I found three women working on the  floor to cook lunch for our 25-person group – one woman grinding garlic in a wooden pestle; another, with a baby on her back, stirring the stew; and yet another supervising the operation.  It looked like incredibly hard work, but I was assured that these women were grateful for the employment.  Lunch that day was a bean stew with lots of garlic, boiled plantains, a little meat (beef?), rice, what they called “soup,” but was really a thin sauce, French fries, and pineapple and those little, sweet bananas for dessert.  (They tell me that they're so sweet because they're allowed to ripen on the vine, but I think they're a completely different type than what we get in the States.)

After eating and resting a bit, and as it got hotter in the room, we slowed down somewhat to accommodate the heat.  We did some additional exercises (none too strenuous!) and talked about finding causes rather than focusing only on effects, something we’d study more the following days.  We also talked about barriers and how to move around them rather than continuing to repeatedly butt our heads up against them, hoping they’ll move or disappear.  I was delighted when one of the participants, Bahizi Emanuel, who is a nurse in addition to his peacemaking work, correlated my lesson with taking antibiotics.  “When we take an antibiotic and it doesn’t work,” he said, “we are foolish to continue with more and more courses of the same drug.  Then it’s time to try something else.”  It was really gratifying to me to hear them relating what we had been talking about to their own lives in whatever way they could.

End of the Day’s Lessons
I ended the day’s workshop with this story:

A blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet. He held up a sign that said: "I am blind, please help." There were only a few coins in the hat.

A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote some words. He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.

Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the blind boy. That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how things were. The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, "Were you the one who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?"

The man said, "I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a different way."

What he had written was: "Today is a beautiful day and I cannot see it."

Both signs told people the boy was blind. While the first sign simply said the boy was blind, the second sign pointed the fortunate ones to their positive possibilities.

Be creative. Be innovative. Thinking differently and positively can bring some unexpected results.

An Excursion to Find Fabric…and Chukudus!
There was still some time after the day’s work before dark when we all had to be inside, and I wanted to try to find some African cloth.  I had been told that it was less expensive in Goma than in Kigali, so Zawadi, Camarade and I took off on my quest.  I did find some cloth (although not significantly less expensive), and made the aquaintance of many different cloth sellers.

But what really piqued my interest were the hundreds of wooden scooters, called chukudus, conveyances that adolescent (and younger!) boys were using to ferry about huge loads of things from one part of Goma to another – bags of rice, produce, building materials – sometimes as much as 300 pounds at a time, Zawadi told me.  Chukudus are cobbled together from whatever materials can be found locally and are maneuvered by the rider kneeling on a “pad” (sometimes an old flip flop) nailed to the center of what would be the down tube on a bicycle.  Some of them even have rudimentary brakes, although I couldn’t quite figure that part out just by looking.  I was so fascinated by these that I bought a miniature one to bring home with me.  (Interestingly, when I got back to Kigali and showed my Rwandan friends my mini-chukudu, they told me that these scooters had also been used in Rwanda but had been banned by their government because they were “too African!”)

Another Potentially Hare-Brained Idea
Now, I have this off the wall idea about making a form of these in the USA (or providing a do-it-yourself pattern) for use by Americans who want a cheap, fossil-fuel-free mode of conveyance made from local materials for tooling around their neighborhoods, and then sending the profits back to the Congo to help with the interfaith and peace programs there. 

Anyone out there interested in helping me get this project off the ground???