Bodies as Battlefields

I recently read a few articles about the violence against women in Congo that caught my attention.  Since March is Women's History Month, I thought this blog might be worth writing.

The Democratic Republic of Congo shares a border with west Uganda and is familiar with the Lord's Resistance Army's brutality.  In the Congo, sexual violence is so common that it is often called the "ground zero of rape".  In Congo and Uganda, it is often said that rape is a weapon of war. 

Women were and are continuously raped by armies to annihilate a community, a tribe, a country.  They are raped to displace countless lives, tear apart families, and make it impossible to continue blood lines.

In parts of Africa, women who are raped are not "fit" to be married or live in the communities they came from.  It is these countless women that are left behind after the violent crimes committed against them.  They are left, often by their own family and husbands, to find food, work, and a place in society that fails to openly discuss the violence.  It is a societal stigma to acknowledge the rapes, thus leaving the victims embarrassed, ashamed, and lost in hopelessness to figure out their futures.
http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Africa/Africa-Monitor/2011/0308/On-International-Women-s-Day-honoring-a-woman-who-told-the-world-about-rape-in-Congo

These women who have endured the sexual violence thrust upon them by combatants are now falling victim to the civilians in their local communities as rape becomes less of a war reality and more of a societal acceptance.  Especially among civilians who have taken off their war clothes but still live in the mindsets taught to them by armies.

Before the war conflicts, when rape occurred, community leadership would stand up to the perpetrator and enforce punishment.  Wars have displaced such "paternal" leadership in most communities, leaving women with no advocate.  Leaving civilians with no consequence to their violence against their women.  Law enforcement of punishment in cases of rape is rarely enforced. 
http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Africa/2010/0630/Congo-war-leaves-legacy-of-sexual-violence-against-women

Not to mention the emotional, painful and financial hardships that come hand in hand with pregnancies as a result of rape.
http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Africa/2010/0509/Mothers-in-Congo-get-help-in-raising-children-of-rape

I am again overwhelmed with the vastness of human rights violations in Africa.  How could I possibly do anything to change a culture?  A mindset?  An opinion?  Is that reason enough not to try? 

Marie Curie changed a culture when she discovered radium and furthered x-ray technology.  My 1st grade teacher changed my mind when she taught me that the smaller brown one was a "penny", not a "quarter".  And Rosa Parks changed the opinion of millions of Americans when she refused to sit in the back of that bus, insisting that blacks should have the same rights as whites, and thus igniting a spark in the USA Civil Rights Movement.

Don't know about you, but I'm with these women.  I'm not giving up on the abused and neglected women of Africa.  There IS something we can do.  Write to your House Representative.  Read actor Don Cheadle's (Hotel Rwanda ring a bell?) book called "The Enough Moment" - written to instruct and inspire people like you and me to help.  Learn more and take a stand publicly.
http://www.enoughproject.org/enough-moment

Are we really gonna just let these women go on living under the oppression we shamefully experienced in the USA during our slavery decades?  Please tell me "no", and then hop on your computer to do something about it. 

Here's a start:
https://writerep.house.gov/writerep/welcome.shtml


Jillian

Fundraisers

THANK YOU, those of you who made it to either of my Fundraiser last month!  We raised a LOT of money for House of Hope!  YAY!  It was amazing to see how each and every one of you came out to support me and the children of Uganda.  I poured out my heart, and you each met me halfway...and then took a few steps more!!  You are all incredible human beings who inspire me and encourage me in my fight for these children.  I felt so loved and supported when I looked out at all of you in the audience.  I think you'd all agree that it is a powerful experience when a group of people join together for a common cause...what passion is ignited and spread!  I'm truly blessed for friends and family like you...all I can say is "thank you".

Please keep remembering your commitments to "create a ripple for Uganda", however you decide to!  And keep following my website for updates during my trip!

All I can say is "thank you" from the bottom of my heart.  Your support and encouragement has touched me more than you know.

Sincerely,
Jillian

We Want Peace music video

by Sudanese "Lost Boy"

Emmanuel Jal

Visit his website to reach peace for Sudan: http://www.we-want-peace.com/

Song from an Unknown Lover

My Africa whose dry air is Sahara
Whose black skin haunts my dreams
And leads my thoughts
Whose white smile is stained with hunger
Whose hair is curled like Cyrtanthus
Whose eyes has seen Sheol
Whose ears have heard blood spilling like the rains of monsoon
My Africa whose land has swallowed men whole
Whose dust spreads across the mountains like ants carrying life
Whose water knows not the filter's passage
Whose exhausted feet have clubbed the long trails' rock
My Africa has many children
Who've breathed long breaths for their lost and wandering
My Africa has tasted two poisons
In the sweltering heat of her dark throat in sickness
In the pounding drums of AK47s
My Africa whose mind swells of packed lies, stored in harvest bundles
Whose pastures cup no rain
Whose land is beaten and barren as the unfaithful wife
Whose mountains cleave their young like hoarse dogs
Whose farms scatter into reckless neglect
Whose seeds grow fruit
For the fat and lonely far away
Whose soil drinks in the blood of mortality
Whose fig tree roots are fed to the holy ones
My Africa who abandons her kin like a shadow in the dark
And corrupts her sister to evil
Whose eyes are the jewels of kings long before
And hold secrets of the world in small crevasses
My Africa who sings deep and loud in her ribs
My Africa whose hands and feet move with the rhythm of the air
My Africa whose legs run with the lone leopard
Whose arms climb trees as monkeys
Whose spear pins down the elephant
Whose sweat pours from the oldest depths of the sea
Whose sex is stolen at her last tear
Whose hands plow the red dust for dying food, for re-birth, for early death
My Africa whose beer is stirred with scarred, lined hands
Whose tongue clicks with foreigners
Whose fear seals over her eyes like scales on a trout
My Africa whose flesh is rubbed with metal
Coughing black powder like the hyena
Whose hands search with envy, prying
All consuming of exotic potions that stain her soul and leave her wanting
My Africa whose neck is long and regal
My Africa with limbs forever cut and bleeding
My Africa sings the songs telling the wind and rain to quench life

By Jillian Theriault