It's a new year. Time to plan new adventures and to discover new cultures. But, while I sit here in Vienna, Austria and dream of my next adventure, my heart longs to share what my eyes have already seen. Sometimes, I close my eyes and can still hear the drums, the singing, and the giggling of the children in those far places. It is strange to consider that a 10-hour airplane flight and 5-hour dirt road drive can take you to new dimensions, new worlds and new realities. And not to mention, to new perceptions of oneself. So, here is one story. Not that this is particularly most important one, but one that has been on my mind lately.
In October 2007, I ventured to Eastern Africa. One of many destinations, was Beni, DR Congo. This place has unfortunately received very little media attention. If one knows to open UN-related sites, and to check NGO sites, then one will learn of carnage and suffering Eastern Congo has been experiencing on-going for the past two decades.
When I was visiting Beni, it was relatively peaceful and calm. My interests were vested in visiting and observing daily life in a transit centre, or CTO as the staff calls it. This was a centre specifically dedicated to helping the rehabilitation and reintegration efforts for children associated with armed groups - in clear text, ex-child soldiers. On day one, I met a young boy, Kakule, who was 12 years old. This boy was very shy, he did not dare look into my eyes while speaking to me. He would play nervously with his hands, looking down at his feet. In order to speak to him, I had to have two translators - one to translate from English to Swahili, and other from Swahili to his tribal language, a form of Lwo. This was an interesting situation for us all, as we all learned a lot about each other in those 30 minutes. He spoke of his family, and how long he was fighting with the Mai-Mai group. He was in the bush for 5 years. That is a long time, dreadfully long time for anyone, especially for someone that young.
The first time Kakule actually dared to look at me, and our eyes met was on day three. The children got accustomed to the fact that I was around, a white European woman. They could not imagine why I would even keep on coming, and so they took special interest in watching me and observing my every move. During lunch, I sat down with them and got into a conversation with an older boy about his experiences. He gestured to me that he was in commando by acting out shooting with a AK-47 and sounding it loudly. Then he lifted his thumb, as to motion, this was a good thing. All children looked and awaited my reaction. Even Kakule. I smiled at him, and told him a story. I shall not repeat the story. It is of past that transpired in my own life. But, it was a story which made them all understand that I understood how unfair life has been to them. They all gathered around me. They all stared at my lips while I was telling the story, as if they wanted the words and the translations to come faster. Their eyes grew bigger, and they followed the story with so much interest, as if it was the best bed-time story one could tell. Kakule stood very close to me. He looked at me without breathing. His big hazel eyes were full of life and fire. After I finished the story, they all stood around me for a moment. It was a silent moment, in which I so wanted to speak the languages they spoke and they seemed to long for more stories from other worlds and other lives. Eventually, they started walking away, to play with a ball, groom each other's hair or play cards. But, Kakule stayed by me. He was looking at me and couldn't stop looking at me. I touched his shoulder slightly, and he smiled. His eyes had that sparkle...joy and peace. No words said, but no words were needed.
Often I look at the photo with him on it. The staff at the centre was able to find his mother, and he was relocated back to his village. But, his village is on the border of two different conflicts. With no means of keeping in touch, I keep wondering whether Kakule was safe. Was that fire and that joy still burning in his eyes? Did the rebel groups skip his village and he was not abducted again, to fight and to suffer a fate no child ever should?! How beautiful, that a single moment and a smile can leave such a long-lasting impact. Kakule, the pure little boy showed me more love and more life in one eye contact than I assumed possible. If you look long enough at the photo, you will spot him easily...he has the biggest smile and there is something in his eyes that will catch your attention.
