To do good is not enough

Its been almost ten months since this incident. I didn’t share it then, because I was of two minds about publicizing this, a little nervous about the PR and dealing with much bigger issues at the time. But I’ll share it today, because it warrants sharing…finally.

As a caveat – let it be said, that though I despise the UN, thanks to the people I’ve interacted with, while in Congo and Haiti, I would never make up lies to justify this disgust. Every bit of it, is well-deserved.

In September 2011 a UN military observer in Bukavu, DR Congo assaulted me. He grabbed my arm and twisted it around me till I was bent over in pain, because I dared to help a then – friend, that he was harassing. He stood over me while I was bent forward, unable to move, and this drunk member of the Russian UN force began whispering what I thank God I was unable to understand, in my ear, in his native tongue. I wrestled myself out of his grip and walked out of the restaurant/bar with what little dignity I could muster to go comfort my terrified companion.

A few days passed, during which I worked up the courage to hang this MILOB out to dry. I placed a complaint with the UN’s disciplinary agency in Congo and pushed it till the very end. They eventually asked me to choose among having him court marshaled, removed from his duty-post and/or a public apology. I chose his removal from his post.

I was fearful about the ramifications of my decision at the time. Would they place this obviously misogynistic and racist man with a gun, within arms length of a Congolese woman who would be less inclined to stand up for her rights the way that I had? Would my name forever go down in UN archives as a whistle-blower? Would I ever be respected at UN meetings again, if someone found out that I was pushing for the highest punishment for someone who twisted my arm? What was the right choice? Should I eat humble pie and accept his apology? Why did I even push this complaint, I wasn’t scared of him, what did I care?

But I did care. I cared because military observers in the worst place to be a woman should not come from racist and misogynistic cultures. They should not be there, wielding their weapons against a people they don’t care about and seem to hate. They should not be paid exorbitant salaries for cruising through town with their aviator sunglasses, spitting on the streets, scorning the people they’re meant to “protect”. They should not be out all night, partying with prostitutes and further destroying the people they are meant to “serve”. They should not only monitor expat-populated areas and they should not be allowed to go unscathed after approaching a woman – of any race or nationality – in a threatening manner.

This MILOB was later repatriated to his home country and court marshaled. After I requested his removal, he found himself in another fight, and this second complaint against him, resulted in his being sent home for his own country to deal with his lack of self control and anger issues.

I am proud of this decision to report this military observer. My complaint meant that the second time he got into an altercation, he was swiftly removed. He was scum and he is only part of the reason why I now throw up a little in my mouth each time someone mentions the ‘good-work’ of the UN. Such a noble concept – completely ruined by the egos and money-grubbing, violent attitudes of men.

I often mention that the real problem facing so many war-torn and developing nations is not the lack of aid, but rather too many ill-intentioned aid-workers.  No recruitment process is perfect, but the UN MUST work to ensure that the people they are sending into the field are not maniacal drunkards who hate women. Is it a joke that a Muslim nation – a culture that is notorious for mistreating the fairer sex, forms the majority of the UN mission in a country already plagued with a disrespect and hatred toward women? Is it funny that these UN observers spend their nights with prostitutes at local watering holes, trade sex for supplies and still tout themselves as “humanitarians” and “brave soldiers”? When in fact – I have real-life stories of women getting raped in front of UN bases, frightened people running away from their persecutors begging the friendly neighborhood UN observer for assistance, and my own personal experiences of almost being run over by sleek UN vehicles speeding down the street and being treated like dirt by UN soldiers because I am a black woman with no desire to kiss their combat boots or elsewhere? I wonder if I were just another Congolese woman, if my complaint against this UN MILOB would have gone further than a uniform’s desk? Doubtful.

My last few months in Congo, taught me a lot about the dark underbelly of the aid and development world – that I am privileged and troubled to share with you here. Mostly it just made me ponder – where are the good people?

To do good, is not to don a uniform. To do good, is not to brandish a weapon in the name of a questionable peace. To simply do good…is not enough unless one means good.

Good is not accidental.

Rape in Congo and the bandages that don’t fight bullies.

This is not the post you think it will be.

Since I slaved over a mini-thesis in Colonel Bowers’ introductory International Relations class on gender-based violence in conflict, most notably in the Democratic Republic of Congo I have been appalled and morbidly fascinated by the situation faced by women in this country. For a long time I have viewed Congo as nothing more than a cesspool of rape, pain, bullets and sorrows. Certainly nothing I saw in my research, in the news or in what people said told me otherwise.

But then I came out here for myself. I didn’t stay for a month or two to write a book, take photos or conduct interviews with the worst of the worst cases. I freed myself from that mzungu prison of thinking that because they spend a week or two in Congo a few times – they know this place.  I began to build a life for myself here. I began to work to serve women who have survived rape, buying whole-heartedly into the idea that rape is the most atrocious problem faced by the Congolese people – and the core of this country’s woes. What a silly tunnel-vision-ed girl I was.

You may re-read this blog and think…well this is directly contradicting so much of what you have said in the past Dominique. But please forgive me, I was in the throes of caring so much so that I forgot to check out my peripheral vision to get the view of the whole picture.

Congo’s problem is not just rape. (I can’t believe those words just escaped my lips). Congo’s problems go so much deeper than rape, if anything, this devastating sexual violence is a RESULT not the CAUSE of Congo’s difficulties, and it is definitely not the only result.

Care for just a starter list of problems and questions? Here goes, why do NGO’s PR stunts sometimes cost more than their actual programs? Why is it normal for the soldiers to go unpaid for months? No one thinks to stand up and say, hey maybe these rebels shouldn’t be going to bars with their grenade launchers and Kalashnikovs? Why are children being burnt alive after being accused of witchcraft? Why are cancer and AIDS so often passed off as ‘poisoning’? No one thinks it atrocious that the Mai Mai HAVE to hunt protected animals because they just have NOTHING else to eat? How about Hilary Clinton travelling here constantly and nothing concrete coming of it? People living on less than $1 day? What’s the line between a freedom fighter and a combatant? I think it pretty strange that grown women don’t know anything about their anatomy. I find it appalling that students have to trade money and sex for grades. I find it disgusting that people KNOW where the raping and pillaging rebels are and we haven’t announced a mass arresting yet? How about oil companies purchasing the right to dig wells in national parks? The border no longer accepting 6 month VISA’s from embassies? Rwanda has 3G cell service and I can’t get a call to go through when it’s windy or rainy? Oh I could go on and on and on and on about this country where there is no war…but still so very little peace.

Don’t get me wrong. Rape remains exceedingly important; it is the bane of a woman’s existence, the most difficult and sadly the most-anticipated event in our lives. Perhaps this is why I have attached myself so inextricably to this cause – it is too near and dear to my heart, a very real and very frightening issue that is the risk we are born with. It is ever-present in Congo, it has gripped this nation in its horrible claws and shows no signs of letting go, but it is just ONE display of the depravity and debasing of humanity that has taken place here. To focus only on this, and highlight only this, and champion this, no matter how much it deserves to be championed is to simplify the conflict and the current situation to the point where it loses so many of its dark and difficult layers.

Activists that shall go un-named will carry on and on and have the world believe though that rape is the biggest and the sole challenge to Congo’s peace and that your iPhone, you horrible human being is the reason for this rape.  But they conveniently ignore the fact that the main perpetrators of rape are no longer the FLDR or the FARDC, they are fathers, brothers, community leaders and men who walk the streets freely every day.  These activists will gloss over the silence of nations, churches and Christians that resulted in thousands of Tutsis massacred a little over a decade ago only a stone’s throw away, this same silence that characterizes the treatment of Congo today. They gloss over the complicity of governments and international NGO’s in the trading of sex for aid, the horribly defunct social infrastructure and the fact that somehow…we now have two men claiming to be the President of this one nation.

For me…I see Congo as being the sadly perfect example of a place where the value of a human life has only diminished over the years. This is why these men rape without concern for judgment, what are these women’s lives worth to them? What are their own lives worth? This is why soldiers fire their guns off into crowds for jokes…who cares? What is the value of this life they eke out? It’s a game of survival here. Why worry about development in 2020 when so many things can kill them today? Why govern this country with order and peace? The world surely hasn’t cared before…will they care now if massacres, executions and botched elections are quietly conducted?

Donors love the idea of saving women, providing for their needs, and in short, perpetuating what I like to call the ‘aid-addiction’. Very few donors think logically about the fact that perhaps ending violence against women goes much deeper than simply providing for their needs after they have been raped. It requires getting at bottom and top-levels of authorities, ending their corrupted reigns, demanding transparency and accountability and not accepting pathetic excuses for democracy and justice in return.

I love my work, I love the women in my program. I see the merit daily. I know it is creating so much good in the lives of women in so much need of good. I love the thought that I am helping them create their dreams, and training them to potentially live a much better life. But there is a sick feeling in my stomach that…the copybooks with the treasured notes on English and French…make for poor weapons against guns, machetes and the ‘stronger sex’.

There comes a point in every humanitarian’s life where she questions the worth and the efficacy of her work. I can honestly say at this juncture, that I don’t think rehabilitation in and of itself is going to solve the problem of violence against women in Congo or elsewhere anytime soon. This is not to say, that rehabilitation is worthless, it is definitely worthwhile. It’s extremely important to provide for the needs of these women after they have suffered so much physical and psychological damage…but rehabilitation relies on the event happening. It does little to prevent the violence in the first place. It is like the bandage you put on the bleeding bruise after the bully pushes you to the ground, though your bandage is really important, it doesn’t protect you from the bully. In fact he will probably push you harder tomorrow, bandage and all.

That being said, it is important to recognize that there seems to be no interest from the Western world in SOLVING the Congolese problem. Reasons for that, I shan’t get into in this post but it’s pretty obvious to me at least. This country on its knees is so much more convenient than it would be standing up on its own.  So hotels donate used bottles of shampoo, countries write off old bad-debts and count that as aid, laws and resolutions are passed; more and more funds go toward purchasing UN choppers so they can sit idly by, unable to fire their weapons at the perpetrators of massacres.

So we provide bandages and more bandages instead of pushing the bullies back, lest we actually beat them.