- Streets of Bukavu
My colleagues and I swerved into the gates of Panzi Hospital after traversing the rock powdered, red clay roads of Bukavu. Toting notebooks, pens and a mixture of emotions, we approached the iconic facility. Panzi Hospital has been a refuge of nurture and healing for thousands of women and children. The hospital is strategically based in the capital city of the Democratic Republic of Congo; a country that has witnessed the rape of 500,000 women over the course of the last 10 years. Rape is often overshadowed by the other issues of conflict gripping a nation where over 6,000,000 lives have been lost in 10 years of violent clashes (a death toll that is greater than the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Darfur combined). The harsh reality is that women’s bodies are often used as battlegrounds in these ethnic, political and resource-based disputes. In the DRC, a woman is raped every 25 minutes. Most rapes are never reported, most survivors are never treated and most perpetrators are never brought to justice.
I visited Panzi Hospital with a delegation from FECCLAHA and Nairobi Women’s Hospital. Our goal was simple: to partner with the caregivers of Panzi Hospital to work together in addressing issues of Gender Based Violence in this region. The walls of the hospital building conceal stories of hurt and tragedy, yet the faces of the women in the courtyard spoke to us the words unheard. We marched forward watched by dozens of women squatting in groups eating their evening meals; their bodies illumined by the day’s fading light and the fires brimming under their pots. Most of the women travel from miles away by boat, by bus or by foot. Many use all of their savings to reach the hospital and have no family or home to return to. A large percentage of the women were chased away by their husbands, communities or churches. The women are seen as unclean, impure, promiscuous, shameful, lustful or the cause of God’s ill will. Unfortunately, several cultures marginalize survivors of rape.
Our small ensemble wandered through an open courtyard seeking the office of Dr. Denis Mukwege, the Head Doctor, Director and Founder of the hospital. In 2008, Dr. Mukwege received the UN Human Rights Prize, the Olof Palme Prize, and the title “African of the Year” by the Daily Trust. Dr. Mukwege performs up to 10 surgeries a day in his 18 hour work days.
- Shelvis, Judy and Dr. Denis Mukwege
An assistant informed us that Dr. Mukwege was still meeting with patients, so we entered a small corridor overlooking a flower garden. There we found a collage of images: pictures of women and men expressing words of solidarity. One quote states, “Know that your voice, your pains, and your victories are being heard, shared, and worked for even though we are far apart.” A quote from Hilary of the Bronx boldly asserts, “We can create change; we can end the violence.” Valentina from Austria simply states, “There is hope.” As I walked through the corridor, my eyes were drawn to remarks from a Rwandese woman, a survivor of the genocide that happened in the small neighboring country exactly fifteen years ago. Her words unite her tragedy with that of these brave survivors of rape. She says, “I feel your pain and I cry to God every day…I admire your courage, strength to fight and I am with you always.” I believed that she is with these women. Her genuine concern for their fate links them. Although she was not physically present, her words of encouragement (along with the other quotes and images from around the world) offer the women something that may seem lacking at that point in their lives: love. The small room is an oasis in a dessert of dissonance. I was thankful for a moment to pause and center myself on the hope that exists.
One of Dr. Mukwege’s assistants informed us that he was ready to meet, so I took a deep breath, said a short prayer and walked towards his door.
Posted on April 30th, 2009 by Shelvis
Filed under: Uncategorized