My call to the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) began in a burst. I was sixteen when I read Heart of Darkness for an English class. As soon as I finished it, I read it again. The book describes Congo during the rule of the Belgian King Leopold II. Discovering that a people could be so wickedly oppressed deeply troubled my adolescent mind. Already at the turn of the 20th century, it was being called the holocaust of central Africa, with burned villages, mutilated bodies, entire villages slaughtered by orders of “extermination”. During Leopold’s 23 year rule of Congo, according to historian Adam Hochschild, the population of the area dropped by approximately ten million people. I was disturbed that I knew nothing about such suffering, that I was insulated from it.
The evil seemed unrelenting. Once the Belgians were done ravaging Congo, they passed her off to a tyrant. His dictatorship ended in 1995, when Congo exploded in civil war. It was huge. Now referred to as "Africa’s World War", journalists and aid workers watched in horror as Congo dismembered itself. Rape was used systematically as a weapon of war. A 2011 report found that in Congo 1,152 women were raped every day - 48 every hour, making it the worst place on earth to be a woman. During the war, eight other countries invaded the DRC, supposedly in support of one faction or another of the civil war, but in reality exploiting the country for its natural resources. In 2003 the war ended uneasily in a fragile peace agreement, leaving the country in shambles, psychologically traumatized by the fighting, economically devastated, with a government teetering on the edge of implosion. Since then, it has repeatedly erupted in violent concussions, and even now is holding its anxious breath, bracing for the anticipated fighting surrounding its presidential elections in November. Now, I see that the early stages of my calling to Congo were extremely problematic on many levels, even in my compassion and righteous indignation. I saw Congo as God-forsaken, inadvertently reducing the people to an inferior status, believing that they had a problem and I needed to help fix it. I failed to recognize that not only did Jesus make the Congolese full of goodness and dignity, but he was also very much at work in their midst, something I will unpack in Part II. After I peel away my ignorance and pride, however, I still hold on to my compassion and indignation as a gift from the Lord and the beginning of my call. I experienced them potently. They were the ignition that propelled me out the door, and always intimately tied to Congo. |
No matter how hard you throw a dead fish in the water, it still won't swim.
-Congolese saying For as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whom he will.. -Jesus Wesley & Mindy McKnightThis blog will address critical questions regarding our vision of ministry in the Democratic Republic of Congo. It is meant to last only until we depart the U.S., with each post being 500 words or less. Archives
July 2016
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