March 8, a Saturday (Women’s Day)

Although this was a slightly more special day than usual due to the theme, most days seem to run similar to last Saturday for me, since I still do not know what a typical day is like!
To begin, I accompanied Harper to visit a widow’s cooperative group started by the mother of 13 children, a widow herself. This amazing woman invites you fully into her home and warmth with one hug and three kisses on the cheeks. She is the kind of grandmother who would always have your favorite kind of brownies fresh out of the oven for you every time you visited! You could come crying to her about a bad day and she would comfort you, give you a glass of cool water and tell you to shape up and face life, because “c’est la vie!” She explained to me that she started this group a little over a year ago because all the widows were praying at church every day, but she realized that they could actually do something more to care for themselves as well. Now she has developed a growing group of jovial women who continually develop their skills in making baskets, bags and a variety of other items. Despite the reality of their poverty and their daily struggle for survival, I was refreshed and felt honored to have met women of such strength, stamina and cheerful dispositions.
After the rocky walk back in an area of town where mzungus seem to never be seen walking, and receiving relentless stares and many smiles, we headed out to participate in the “International Women’s Day” march, which is important in the Congo, for speaking out for women’s rights and protection from violence. About 10 or 12 of us piled into a couple SUVs to make the usual 10 minute drive to the HEAL Africa hospital to march from there. I have already gotten a license (all you need is a 1”x 1” picture, $15 and no proof of an ability to drive) and have been driving here since my first week. I drove our little Susuki, which has the driver’s wheel on the right side, and followed Harper’s improvised lead through town. Since the march had already begun and overtaken the narrow, pot-holed roads, we were continually forced off the street into the pedestrian areas. Evading motos, children, women, chickens, goats and trees, we honked our way painstakingly at about .1 miles per hour. All the women were in solidarity groups, dressed to their best with matching outfits, their hair done beautifully, make up shining and their best heels clicking away. I would break my ankle in a moment if I were to wear high heels for 10 minutes here, let alone on a march! However, they emanated joy, pride and strength as they marched. Some men even joined the women on this march for their rights. The throngs only grew by the moment, even as it began to storm. We cheered them on from our windows, rain pouring in, as they proudly raised their banners and marched on, in opposite direction as our Susuki. Many times I was forced off the road, painfully bottoming out the SUV on the curb stops, all of us hoping nothing the car really needed had gotten banged up under us! About two hours later, we arrived at the hospital, the torrential rains soaking every possible thing within their reach. We missed actually participating in the march, but at least we cheered the entire thing wholeheartedly, clapping loudly for the HEAL Africa women as they passed us by!
Once the rain ceased, we took the Upper Room group to see where the volcano erupted in 2002. This volcano destroyed the entire city of Goma at the time, wiping out the original HEAL Africa hospital. Upon arriving, we were harassed by innumerable children asking us for “biscuits” (when is the last time you ever carried biscuits with you, anyway?), trying to open our purses and grabbing us. I put forth my best efforts at befriending them, joking around, all of us attempting to be kind. When we finally hurried back to our cars, they chased us, pressing against us, relentlessly demanding food or money from us. I still tried to be friendly, only to be pinched multiple times through my driver’s window as I attempted to drive off. Not my happiest moment!
The day not yielding even a bit, we drove through town, unapologetic eyes staring from everywhere. Every time I stopped, people crowded my window, reaching in to push buttons, move my turning signal or to grab my arms. The sun beating down on us (A/C does not exist here), we were obligated to put up our windows, as no friendly gestures (and believe me, I tried my best to woo them!) could convince them that their incessant invasions were not welcome. We finally arrived at home hot, sweaty, exhausted, and I won’t lie- I still had my feelings hurt that children had actually pinched me! Thinking we could finally jump into Kivu Lake for a cool, relaxing swim, we found all the HEAL Africa women, in their matching blue-and-hot-pink outfits, happily celebrating women’s day in our yard. We tossed out our plan and merrily joined them in the heat of the day.
After this, I drove some of us to Yole Africa, a local arts organization that develops musical, video and dance talent in Congolese youth. On Saturdays, they have “Jam Session,” which is a loosely structured time for musical artists to practice performing. There is a good amount of talent here, with many rappers, singers and guitar players. My favorite is a talented trio of brothers, aged 19, 15 and 10, who form a band named G Life. They create their own music and lyrics. The 10 year old boy, Innocent, wins every crowd over, not just with his stunning voice and gifted djembe skills, but also as one of the MCs for the jam session, moving the crowd to follow his cheers for each upcoming band.
We finally returned to eat dinner back at the house, which is called Maji Matulivu (Still Waters). A cold beer never tasted so good, and Turbo King (delicious lager) was just the answer! A few more hours and the day would be over.