A Conversation with Joseph Ciza in Goma, Congo - At Last

For five days, every morning somewhere around 7 a.m., I sat at my desk and started calling Joseph Ciza, first trying one cell phone number and then another. Each time, sometimes in English and sometimes in French, a message would announce that the phone call could not be completed.
 
Joseph had been in our home just two weeks before to speak at a Slavery and Poverty conference hosted by First Presbyterian Church Berkeley. He also spoke about HIV and violence against women to undergraduates at U.C. Berkeley and at the University of California San Francisco Medical Center.
 
As days passed, my concerns increased. I began to imagine various scenarios. Without electricity could the cell phones no longer be charged? Was Joseph somehow caught in the rebel controlled regions surrounding Goma, Congo? Had his family been attacked, his home looted, or worse, had he or his family been injured? From other messages that I had received I knew that there were robberies and beatings of entire families close to where Joseph lived.
 
On the sixth day, the phone rang through, a good sign that the mobile phone was working. Then, in a Congolese-French accent I heard, "This is Ciza."
 
"Is it really you?" I asked. 
 
"Yes, it is really is!" followed by a hearty laugh that gave me great assurance. One by one, I asked about each family member, and as I did, Joseph would put them on the phone - Rosette his wife, Esther his daughter and finally John Felix his son. I was especially concerned about John Felix, as he had stopped eating when the gun shots started, but on that day he began to take food. How does a six year old child understand what is happening? How can you make him feel safe?

I am not certain how long we talked. It was as if Joseph were here in the U.S. and we were talking about the events of the day.
 
"Did Dr. Bonane get back safely from Kayna? Did he get past the rebel blockade? And what about Ghislain Zihalirwa the nurse?" These are all our health care workers in rural Congo who provide HIV education, care, and prevention of HIV transmission from HIV infected mothers to their babies. Now that they were safe I could remember them as I last saw them with smiles of hope.
 
"Yes, they are safely back in Goma Town. They went from Congo to Uganda and then through Rwanda to get home. But they got stopped at the Rwanda-Goma border. They said that Dr. Bonane was one of Nkunda's rebels trying to get into the Congo."
 
"Dr. William, a rebel?" This time, I started to laugh and so did Joseph. The irony of it all. One could only laugh. You would need just a moment to meet Dr. Bonane to understand. His face spoke peace.
 
Then I felt strange. One moment talking about rebel attacks and violence, brutal attacks and shortage of hospital workers and supplies, and then the next moment laughing. It was then that I realized that the Congolese laugh in the midst of suffering was a means of easing the pain.
 
"Will you call Nkunda to speak to him now that you are back?"
 
I was not surprised when Joseph replied, "Yes, I will tell him that he must stop. He is not helping. He is destroying people and their homes."
 
I have no doubt that Joseph will try to reach him.
 
No matter who the leader or the rebel group, Joseph goes to rescue kidnapped women to return them to their homes or bring them to HEAL Africa Hospital if they were brutalized. When I was last in Goma, Joseph called one of the rebel leaders to insure safe passage to their villages for the 54 health care workers whom we had trained.
 
Just before we ended our conversation, Joseph asked, "Where are you?" Because of his visit to our home, his first journey to the U.S., Joseph knew exactly where I was when I said, "In my home office overlooking the garden."
 
I felt uncomfortable. I knew exactly where he was too. In his clapboard home built on top of lava rock from a volcanic eruption, no water or electricity but surround by his wife, his children and five additional adopted children whose parents had been killed - he was there to protect them.
 
"What do you need Joseph?"
 
"We need your prayers, we need food, and we need peace."
 
With that I said goodbye.
 
Joseph is very special. We know him but there are others too. Even when the news is filled with disturbing stories that may cause some to question just what is happening with their donations, the health care workers that you support are there to help and to heal. Your donations are invested in people like Joseph and Dr. Bonane and Dr. Vindu and nurses like Ghislain who remain in Goma Town because they are committed to helping. Your donations are investments in people, who in turn invest in others, to bring health and peace whenever and wherever they can.
 
On their behalf - thank you.