A timely reminder

Recently, I was reminded of the voice, the platform, the eyes that I have… And that I can and should use it to educate, inform and enlighten those without the accessibility and exposure that I have… Especially the unique perspective and experience that I have to life in eastern Congo. It’s a calling and an opportunity and most don’t have.

Of course the reminder wasn’t so direct as that. But this man did encourage and surprise me when, after introducing myself to him for the first time he responded with, “Bethany, as in ‘Bethany in the Congo’?” I was taken aback for a moment and then realized that he was referring to my blog!

Wow. A reader. Not just a reader but one who knows the current title of my blog. He then went on to say how he and his wife came across it when looking for information about Congo that wasn’t all grim, bleak and heartbreaking. They were looking for something positive, he said, since they are considering a long-term move to the Congo. He also told me how they have appreciated what I’ve posted… And they follow my writings.

That brought me to feeling guilty for not updating in a long time… And then I felt even more shame when I remembered that my more recent “updates” were re-posts or news articles about Rwanda-Congo relations, or scandals in Congo with US professional sports players – I had written nothing (much less anything personal) in ages.

When was the last time that I had even reflected on what I’m seeing, living, hearing here?

Not long after that, Noé and I were going back to Beni, after church in Oicha (this was now March, two or three weeks before our wedding).

I was remembering a trip that Chelsie, Megan, Kizito and I had made to the DRC-Ugandan border at the end of November. We had left Beni to go to Kampala to wait for elections and the results here. Along the way, while still in Congo, we passed a few small towns in Virunga Park, which we drive through to get to the border.

One of the towns we came to had a military camp nearby – or maybe it wasn’t a town but just a camp, I really don’t remember. As we were approaching a few soldiers standing on the left side of the road, I struggled with my typical feelings when I see the national soldiers: distrust, fear, skepticism, doubt. I then realized that there was a little girl in a red dress standing very near to one of the men. And I fought against my feelings even more! Who do these men think they are? How dare they intrude in the lives of the people living here, the families, this little girl! God, protect that little girl from these men!

As we were about to pass them, while these thoughts were swirling around in my mind, I saw that the little girl, not four years old, was standing very close to one of the soldiers – and he was holding her hand.

He was protecting her.

He was caring for her.

He (likely) loves her.

I was arrogant. And very assuming.

Who do I think I am? How dare I project my assumptions on people I don’t know! God, thank you for that man. Is he her father? Brother? Uncle?

I then had to praise God for showing me the humanity in some of our soldiers. I thanked God for reminding me that the soldiers are not just people like I am, like my Congolese friends and family are – but they are also fathers, friends, brothers, uncles, sons, grandfathers…

Soldiers in a poorly managed / trained army... But they are still people.

So anyway, back to the Sunday after church in Oicha. Noé and I were headed back to Beni on the motorcycle and for some reason; I remembered the trip in the car to the Ugandan border and seeing the soldier near the young girl in the red dress.

After these thoughts re-entered my mind, we came up to a small military camp near a cluster of small houses, along the side of the road. As we got closer to one house in particular, I saw a small child who was totally naked and covered in soap suds. I started to smile, knowing that he was getting his bath, when I noticed the person bathing him – was in army fatigues. And he had a gun strapped to his back.

A father? An uncle?

Moments later, I could see two soldiers walking along the side of the road, heading towards us. The one in front was smoking a cigarette. The one behind him, was tightly holding onto the hand of a young girl, in a light blue dress. It looked like he had just swung her by the arm, kind of like how my parents used to play with us when we were kids – propelling us forward by the arms – a game where you were left feeling like you had just flown forward those 3 or 4 feet. How exhilarating!

And this young man was playing with the little girl in blue, as they walked north up the road.

I was dumbstruck for a few minutes.

God, what are you teaching me? What am I missing? What have I forgotten?

These three brief moments have really touched me deeply. I’ve seen how judgmental I am, especially towards the army. Even how fearful I have been – assuming the worst in the people that I see.

But what do I know? Maybe I know just a little, a percentage of the “truth,” and I project my assumptions, my generalizations on to the collective group.

When I am included in the stereotyping of Americans, women or white people – I get all bristly.

How dare you assume something about me when you don’t even know me?!

Yet, I’m guilty of the same thing.

God forgive me and help me to see others with your eyes… God help me to see the Congolese army with your eyes.  And help me to remember that everyone, every single human, is your creation.

I am so thankful for the reminder a few weeks ago – to keep informing people back in the States about life here. For some, I may be the only set of eyes that they have access to. And for some, I may be the only one they know of who’s seeing good things here.

I don’t want to waste that. It’s a privilege to be here. It’s an honor to be a part of life here. To see, with my own eyes, what’s happening in Beni. And I want to share that with you, my family, friends, supporters and community in the rest of the world outside of Beni and UCBC.