Mission in Action
.jpg)
Shattered Dreams
By Fons Eppink MHM
WOMEN CAUGHT IN THE CROSSFIRE
Mill Hill Missionary Fr Fons Eppink writes of the African women whose lives have been blighted by war.
Yesterday Mado Boluwa came walking into our compound clutching her nine-month old baby boy, looking distressed and sombre, a shadow of her usual bubbly appearance.
I know her well and have come to appreciate her pluck and resourcefulness in the face of formidable obstacles. She is one of the hundreds of Congolese women who have come to Uganda attached to Ugandan soldiers after the withdrawal of the Ugandan army from the Democratic Republic of Congo (former Zaďre) some two years ago. And she happens to come from Basankusu, close to a thousand kilometres from the Ugandan border in the forested interior of Congo, where I once served as a missionary. Over the past year I have discovered that a considerable number of these Congolese women live at Magamaga military barracks in the vicinity of Jinja, where I am now.
Vivid stories
My erstwhile neighbour Piet Korse, who also worked in Congo for many years, was the first to make contact with these women. They obviously feel attracted by these missionaries who are intimately familiar with their background and speak their language. And so they come, on regular visits, sometimes on their own, but mostly in groups of three or four. Their stories are a vivid reflection of the desperate plight of many in Congo after several years of civil war and a total collapse of the already fragile infrastructure – health, education, trade – in that benighted country.
The Ugandan army penetrated far into Congo ostensibly in support of one of the rebel groups – and, in the process, grabbed as much of Congo’s fabulous mineral wealth (gold, diamonds, coltan) as they could lay their hands on. In many places the Ugandans were welcomed as liberators. They were relatively well organised, had good discipline, and, most importantly, they regularly received their pay in dollars. No wonder many young women fell for these well-to-do liberators. Anything was better than the miserable life in war- stricken Congo.
Hard reality
And so they came to Uganda clutching the coat tails of the Ugandan army in retreat. They came in their hundreds, desperate to leave behind the poverty and misery of their place of birth, full of expectations and dreams of a better life in Uganda. Sometimes they left against the will of their families.
Reality in Uganda, of course, was a far cry from the idyllic mirages conjured up by nostalgic soldiers eager to impress admiring womenfolk. Some discovered soon after arrival that their would-be husband already had a wife and children in Uganda. Most soldiers coming from Congo were soon redeployed in the North of Uganda to fight another war in their own country, this time against the Kony rebels who are engaged in a 17 year old war of attrition with the Ugandan government.
And the women were left behind to fend for themselves in military barracks scattered around the country. Not surprisingly, relationships soon cooled, some husbands were killed in combat or otherwise disappeared, and a growing number of women were abandoned holding – often literally - the baby with little or no resources to fall back on.
Typical story
Mado Boluwa’s story in many ways is typical of the plight many find themselves in. When she first came to visit with a group of other Congolese women she appeared happy and outgoing, ready to take on the challenge of building up a new life in Uganda. Her husband had been redeployed in the North, they had one baby, and their relationship seemed on an even keel.
Then, one day she came to ask if I could lend her some money. She wanted to go to Kasese near the Congolese border, to buy bundles of beautifully printed wax cloth, reputedly cheaper there, and start up a small retail business of her own here locally. We agreed on the terms and I lent her the money she asked for. For a few months I heard nothing.
Until yesterday. I saw straightaway that she wasn’t her usual sprightly self. At first she sat silently. Then she told me her story.
Disaster strikes
She had gone to Kasese but instead of buying wax cloth she had bought several cartons of cigarettes because the margin of profit would be bigger, she had calculated. But when she got back to Jinja she heard that she would make double the money if she went to sell her cigarettes in Gulu in the troubled North of the country.
Eager to get as much out of this one opportunity as she could and undaunted by the very real danger of rebel ambushes she went to Gulu. Only to hear that in Kitgum further north still and deeper into rebel territory the profit would even be higher. She decided to take the risk. Then on the way to Kitgum disaster struck. The last three vehicles of the convoy she was travelling with were attacked by armed robbers (rebels?). Several passengers were shot and wounded. All were robbed of whatever possessions they were carrying with them. Some travellers were then forced by the robbers to carry their loot into the bush for them. Mado lost all her merchandise and whatever else she had with her.
Then, to add to her tale of woe, she received news that her soldier husband had been arrested and incarcerated in Luzira prison allegedly for losing his gun (had he tried to sell it to get some money?). When she went to claim her share of his salary at the military headquarters in Bombo she was told that a soldier in prison received no pay.
So yesterday here she was, empty handed, her spirit broken, with but one desire: to leave Uganda as soon as possible and return home. Her story is not an exception. Others regularly knock at my door, their dreams shattered, desperate to find the means to return home. To me they are an apt illustration of the African proverb applicable to so many of the victims of the multiple conflicts in Central Africa’s Great Lakes Region: ‘When two elephants fight the grass gets trampled’ .WM