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It has been a whirlwind three days and so much has happened that I don’t even know where to begin. Twenty four hours of the last seventy two have been spent in a car so we’re all feeling weary. I’m not sure if I even have the energy to attempt eloquence but I’ll give it a shot.
We left Bukavu for Chambucha on Wednesday morning at six. The journey was everything we had been warned about and more: muddy roads that could swallow a truck, flat tires, makeshift bridges, military checkpoints, very young men with very large weapons. It was a six-hour drive through Kahuzi Biega National Park and north to Chambucha. The scenery was breathtaking. Thick dense jungle, bamboo trees and wild orchids, monkeys, every shade of green you could possibly imagine. Enormous spider webs and their equally enormous creators, such a change from the urban feel of Bukavu. There were children swimming in the river that borders the forest where the FDLR (Rwandan rebel group) are in hiding, and where the FARDC (Congolese government troops) have taken positions along the road, weapons trained at their sides. And that’s what’s so confusing about this place..utter purity and beauty juxtaposed with brutal violence.
So we headed to an area engulfed by guerrilla activity. As a result tens of thousands of people have had to flee their homes in neighboring villages and have been essentially herded into Chambucha. The road we are on ends there, and we are received like heroes. The people had been told beforehand of our arrival and hundreds turned up to clap and cheer and sing us into our camp. It was so moving and there is no way I can do it justice in words…David Serota has it all on film, so it will no doubt eventually speak for itself.
International Medical Corps’ hospital facility is set up next to the compound where we are staying and after dropping our bags we walk fifty meters into the fenced area for a tour. The care being provided, considering the extremely remote location, is again incredible. The stories I hear are again, harrowing. I met a mother who was running away from a group of militia three days earlier with her baby strapped to her back. They both got shot, but survived and thankfully made it into the facility in time. Her boy is so little and the huge bandages on his arms break my heart. Everything about this place breaks my heart. These people all have stories which they share with me and there is just simply too much to try to grasp. Everyone has lost something, everyone has lost someone. I meet malnourished babies, mothers, fathers, widows and widowers, malaria sufferers, their eyes glazed, victims of rape and pillaging. They are all here in massive numbers, and their stories are agonizing. I meet a group of about a hundred who have selected an old man to read out on behalf of them all, their list of grievances. They have no homes and no possessions and they need others to recognize they are in crisis. I sat down with the Mai Mai, an armed community defense group that has been placed here by the government, but not paid for months. The general told me that he wants to go back to his old post but leaving this area would look like he was plotting to join another force and would essentially place a target on his head. He was surrounded by his men in green uniforms, holding their ammunition and AK 47s. It is intimidating for me to interview them and certainly against the norm for them to answer difficult questions posed by a woman. Even though their definition implies that they are allies of the government, I know that there is really no “good” armed group in this country. I later asked a victim of rape if she felt protected by the Mai Mai or any of the military here. She simply said “I don’t trust any man wearing a uniform”. This woman had been raped on three separate occasions, each time requiring fistula repair. The last time she was held captive for three months and was consistently raped by eleven men. The reason she had had so many of these encounters was because she was disabled and therefore when the men came into the village and the women fled, she was always left behind. She simply could not run as fast as the others. I sat with a fourteen year old girl who was raped nine days ago… and another and another. It is impossible to fathom the sheer number of women who have been violated here, and their stories are way beyond anything I can even begin to comprehend.
I was able to deliver one wonderful treat in Chambucha. Lysa Heslov and her terrific foundation, Children Mending Hearts, provided hundreds of t-shirts for the children who are in desperate need of clothes and it was uplifting and rewarding to later see them running around smiling in their new clothes.
We spent the night in bunk beds within the camps and eat a supper of cassava leaves with some river fish and rice. There is no electricity so everything is cooked on clay pots over coal and we wash before dinner with a bucket of cold water. I haven’t felt so present in a long time. There is something to be said for eliminating choice and the calm that comes with it. It dawns on me that I get so overwhelmed at home and life is often spent planning or organizing or making decisions in general. Here there is really not much choice at all and as a result I find myself stopping and actually having the time to process the experiences we have had. The drive back on Thursday took about seven hours. We slept in Bukavu and then drove eight and a half hours to Rwanda.
I broke down twice on this trip. The first time after being in the displacement camp outside Goma, seeing the woman with the colostomy bag. I had to step into an empty tent and sob. I had consciously planned on keeping it together, but the visual and the look in her eyes broke me. After that, some form of defense mechanism kicks in. Of course you feel enormous empathy but there is no room for personal emotion in these places. Still, as we crossed the border into Rwanda, it all hit me, and I cried. It was a pretty silent journey to Kigali because we all leave a piece of our hearts in DRC. There is a lot to process, but I have never gone on such an incredible journey before and am inspired to come home and start the real work. Please go to imcworldwide.org and if you have anything to spare, donate. Trust me the money you spend will be very well used and these people need and deserve all the help they can get.
Muddy roads in Bukavu
**Listen to an interview with Sienna Miller from Air America radio**
(Images courtesy of Dokument Films)
CATEGORIES: Human Rights
I’m sitting in the dark, due to a huge rainstorm as I write this, from the balcony of the International Medical Corps guesthouse in Bukavu, eastern DRC. We left Goma at the crack of dawn and sandwiched ourselves onto a boat that was full way beyond capacity. And we laughed the whole way because despite the immense darkness that exists here, this country is beautiful in so many ways. Bukavu feels far more like a city and is certainly more developed than Goma, but it is equal in beauty and in charm. We visited Panzi Hospital where IMC is training doctors and which has become world-renowned because of its incredible work with thousands of women who are in need of surgical repair for a condition called “fistula,” a severe gynecologic rupture. It’s a frighteningly common condition in eastern DRC because of lack of obstetric care, and the epidemic of rape.
Panzi Hospital’s Founder and Director is Dr. Denis Mukwege, often referred to as “the savior of women “ and was named by a prestigious Nigerian newspaper as African of the Year in 2008. But this man is beyond labels. He shared some of his experiences with us and as you can imagine, they are horrific. The youngest rape victim he has had to treat was a three year old girl.
I have to admit that after yesterday’s displacement camps in Goma I was feeling pretty desolate. But visiting this hospital today felt as though there is a glimmering the light at the end of a long and dark tunnel. There are women everywhere who have suffered innumerable traumas and they are finally being given the treatment and care they deserve. This place is set up like a full on sisterhood. And the strength of women in numbers was powerful and inspiring.
Tomorrow we drive to Chambucha which is about a hundred kilometers north of Bukavu. The drive can take up to nine hours as the roads are treacherous and muddy from the rains. We have been briefed that this is an extremely volatile area. Lately there has been a marked increase in rebel activity. As I write I’m told there are ongoing actions occurring and the wounded are being brought to the hospital where we will be. Obviously, we have increased our security measures for the trip, but we all thought it was essential to see the work being done on the front lines of this conflict. IMC is providing the only health care in the area, and it would be futile to come all this way and not visit one of its most extreme and vulnerable areas. Communication is virtually impossible due to its remote location, so I will write when we return (weather permitting) on Friday…. (Don’t spare the horses!)
Sienna Miller is an award-winning actress. Read her full bio and more about her trip to the Congo.
(Images courtesy of Dokument Films)
CATEGORIES: Human Rights
I guess it’s important to clarify why I’m here. International Medical Corps is an incredible organization that is providing healthcare and support to people in dire need. I met with them in Los Angeles two months ago and they approached me to see if and how I could help in anyway. They desperately need funding and general awareness raised both for the organization, and for all the projects they are involved with. If my involvement in any way could contribute to either then I was more than happy to be involved. My one request was that if we were going to start working together, it was imperative, that I see and experience what is going on first hand….So here I am.
Today we went into the camps. It’s incredibly difficult to put down in writing what I saw and how I subsequently feel. I met so many courageous people: victims of brutal rape, mothers of children dying of starvation, and the children themselves. If a woman is married and raped here, most of the time her husband will leave her immediately. If she was too young to be married when raped, she will probably never have the chance to be married at all. It is brutal in every sense of the word. One woman recounted her story to me. She is twenty five years old, and was gang-raped five months ago. It is difficult to hear, but important to know that when women are raped it is sometimes not only by men, but by objects ranging from broken bottles and knives, to the butts of very large rifles. As a result of her experience, this woman will wear a colostomy bag for the rest of her life. I saw the scars, and the bag, and I can honestly say that it is one of the most harrowing images I will ever come across. A woman is raped here every eight minutes. This one, for better or worse, survived.
The work being done is overwhelming, the problem so huge. The wards are constructed under makeshift tents and the drugs are constantly running out. No matter how many photos or documentaries we watch, nothing can compare to the experience of being in those camps. The smell alone is unforgettable. But the people smile, and the looks on their faces when they hear that we are trying to try and help is one of hope. That is often all they have.
After the camps, we visited Virunga Hospital that caters towards seriously malnourished children. Some are skeletal, others are in an even worse state, their skin bloated to such a severe degree that it is bursting and ripping from their bodies. I have a ten-month old niece who I cherish and adore and who is bigger than a four-year-old child I met today. It is not however all completely depressing. This particular hospital has a 98% success rate, but the numbers of new admissions are growing and there are just not enough resources here to help everyone In need.
I am back at the hotel contemplating the amount of food I have thrown away in my life. And the things, fundamental things in life that I absolutely take for granted. I’m sorry this blog is so doom and gloom. I’m searching my head for a funny anecdote to finish on, but not having much luck. Be grateful, be happy. If you are reading this on a computer, take a minute to realize how lucky you are. We are all so so blessed… over and out.
Sienna Miller is an award-winning actress. Read her full bio and more about her trip to the Congo.
(Images courtesy of Dokument Films)
CATEGORIES: Human Rights
We boarded the flight to Rwanda having spent a night in a gorgeous old colonial hotel in Nairobi. Felt such anticipation as we flew over Lake Victoria and watched the landscape beneath us with its deep reds transforming into luscious green and mountainous peaks. Rwanda is so full of history and so far from home. A country that has been ravaged by war and yet once landing we were met by a sea of smiling faces and stunning landscape. The only reminder of genocide on our four-hour drive to the border of Congo was the banners stretching across the road as a memorial to those who were so brutally murdered.
I don’t really know what I expected the Democratic Republic of Congo to be like. Rwanda felt peaceful, but upon crossing the border, the violence which I have read so much about became apparent. The people weren’t hostile, but we were greeted by a truckload of army guys with rocket launchers on their laps. And our head of security, Martin Gilmour, who has almost definitely seen it all. I’m traveling with my best friend Tori, Margeret Aguirre from the International Medical Corps and David Serota our cinematographer. We get a security briefing before leaving the border: don’t go anywhere alone, be smart, body language is important, a smile goes a long way.. .and if we get a gun out in our faces, to remain calm and let Martin do the talking. The country feels so different to Rwanda… bustling markets, smoke, chickens and goats running freely, men and women holding hands, and I smile at the universal language of love.
Our hotel is set upon Lake Kivu. It is so utterly beautiful here that it is hard to remember that the backdrop upon which this country is set, is a very dark one. Only 2 days ago, and approximately 40 miles north of where we are, a thousand people or so have been displaced, a few killed and their homes burned to the ground. We are invited to the IMC guest house for dinner with Fernand, a west African, whose work in humanitarian services has been so fantastic that he is now head of all of the IMC programs in North Kivu. He is immediately so warm and affectionate towards us… hugs and smiles, peanuts , Pringles and beautiful South African wine and then we sit down for dinner. Fernand is away from his wife and three boys. He has been here for 2 weeks now and I asked him how it was going. He said that he and his wife ate together and that was their ritual, that they would sit down and eat no matter what, and that since he’s been away it’s been hard to find an appetite. It was such a simple insight, but so moving. It spoke volumes to me and made me think about the differences in our cultures, and just how much we could learn if we could step out of the arrogance which sometimes seems to consume us in the west. It was a wonderful evening… chicken and chips, beef, peas… the peanuts we ate were still warm from roasting all day in the heat of the sun. Martin told us war stories (I proceeded to have the most dramatic and violent dreams!) and he played us a song by Baz Luhrman around the table which I haven’t heard for years and is packed with invaluable advice…it’s called “Sunscreen”… look it up and listen! We finally went to bed. I could hear people jumping into the lake and swimming under the stars and ironically I felt peaceful.
Sienna Miller is an award-winning actress. Read her full bio
(Images courtesy of Dokument Films)
CATEGORIES: Human Rights
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