social, friendly and loving, don't you think we miss it? ooh life, life in a well cultural nation, my Africa, my Congo my village.
days full of activities, without taking a look at a clock. without marking on a calender... ooh , what a wonderful life i am missing out. i miss the daily activities, farming. schooling, hunting, playing soccer and many more...look how it goes daily in most Congolese families.
most families run a two hours worship before bed time, do kids need bed time story? no ! "good night kids and God be with you" that's all they need,
deep and peaceful sleep and wonderful dream. all night long no alarm clocks, but they keep the schedules... busy schedules . my mom used to put a Bible under my pillow saying it's protection against the power of evil. anything to keep me from having nightmares i am down with it.
God is good indeed, three thirty in the morning, the roosters will crow, will they last long? couple of second, may be a minute. even though, every body in the city will hear it, it's three thirty. thirty minute later, the roosters crow again, this time the crowing will last longer. Who doesn't that's four in the morning? great sleep, wake up now...it's morning.
People will start getting up, this is the beginning of an African day (four am), every women will be preparing to go to a morning prayer service whereby most parent go along with entire the family. will parents excuse us because it is school day? no ! school start at 07am morning prayer service start at 05am to 06am, school comes after prayer. every body! it is prayer time get up. Unlike in America, we don't have heaters or bath tubs, therefore we got to take a quick cold shower and put on our blue bottom/white top uniform. check in the kitchen if there is any left over to feed our stomach then sprung out of the door in a moving freezing crowd to the
morning prayers. My nearby church was called 'chapel domse' small made out of wood in a girls school yard. actually some of my seven sisters where attending that school. at six the prayer is done and a blink on the street, thousands of blue/white people crowd which will signal you that you are still on time...
My mother would stay home getting the house clean and food ready for us after school. my dad will go to work right after the morning prayer and we won't see him until seven at light. while at school, the teachers take full control of us and we have to abide by their rules. today it's different that we watch student say what ever they want to teacher's and get away with it in other countries, what we call discipline in Congo, it's called child abuse in the United state. but we grew up with that total respect we needed from school to our homes. at the end of the day, we go home and find mother had already every thing under control...the sisters will help her with few works around the house, the boys will go play soccer with friends until six in the evening when everybody needs to be at home and take another cold shower before supper and then pray, sing for hours in family and sleep again.
as you may hear, i miss that routine since i had to became a refugee. driven out of my country by war. separated from my loving family and left living in woeful conditions in foreign countries.
At the age of about 13 i had to travel illegally from Zaire, Tanzania, Zambia and then Zimbabwe.
Long break in Zimbabwe a place where i matured and learn how to endure, persevere, tolerate, and fight for what i believe in. it wasn't that easy at first as i was crying every instant missing my family but six month later i toughen up and just assumed the were all gone.
had to learn English, Shona and Ndebele in Zimbabwe in order to integrate in the society. six month went fast in a scorching refugee camp of about three hundred people with me being the youngest unattended child, i could speak English a bit and grasped the I.C .M.C scholarship to attend a boarding school in the nearby village.
later on there was many problems happening in the country with the Zimbabwean abhorring refugees saying they are taking opportunities belonging to them and destroying their country . that brought plenty of tension between us ( refugees) and the citizens of Zimbabwe. At some points, the refugee camp got hits by flood and we all had to leave walking some six hundred miles to Harare. between the flood and the fights, we had to negotiate with the United Nation High Commissioner for refugees seeing if they had any durable solution option for us rather than returning to the washed camp. this never worked and we had to be punished for discussing our rights, all the adults in the group were jailed for a year then deported while the women and children were placed in a detaining camp before deportation. i and three women escaped and all but one,ended up in Botswana. that was the second faze of a long adventure, one year in a Dukwi refugee camp in Botswana, cross borders illegally to South Africa. Struggle on the streets of Johannesburg for weeks before meeting with a friend that helped me re established and feel stable. three years later i was on another adventure to Angola, and then Zimbabwe and with so much happening in Zimbabwe, i was detained again, kidnapped and tortured before the UN High Commissioner for refugees finally granted me protection and resettled me to Boise Idaho in The United States of America.
a place i never dreamed of, a place i never heard of, a place where today i think i really need to be all along. a place of peace, love and prosperity, a place that allowed me to search for myself, my family, my dream and then die with satisfactory.
In Boise i had to start life with the healing process, medical healing as-well as emotional healing. i was still traumatized by the things i saw, the things i did and all that i heard while i war fronts, refugee camps and in forests running for my life. taking therapist classes and medications daily, having anxiety and many sleepless nights ended up with me collapsing and ending in a psytric clinic. my therapist urge me to start using writing as a healing process. every night that i cant sleep, i will wake up and sit on my donated lap top and start typing my emotions until i feel relieved. this was the Beginning of my writing in general, i would later on decided to let the rest of the world here my experience, but the fact that it was a rough writing i had to start breaking the long stories in short summarized ones that i finally decided to put in a poetic form. This was to try and see if young people would know what's may be ahead of them before hand. my history teacher used to tell me "history repeats itself" and that tells me that whatever i went through, will still be repeated by someone else, and by me telling about it maybe it's may be easy for whomever will face it in the future to understand and solve it without trauma. I feel freed and relieved whenever i am speaking to the crowd about my life and it saves me a lot of anxiety and stress that i would be having thinking about where i am going in life. Let God Himself reign and leads me in the path ahead.