I returned home less than 40 hours ago.  Images of Congo are still fresh in my mind: the children slaving in the Bunia goldmine, the rape victim who told us how her captors held her down in the field by driving a stake through her foot. I am driving to Wildwood school to report on our trip and our work.  I am still jetlagged; still, in many ways, dazed from the dramatic contrast between my life and theirs.  The images in my mind dance back and forth between the various people we met and the stories they told us.

It is ironic that one week ago I was standing at a gold mine in the very dangerous, remote Orientale Province in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Ironic because today I am chaperoning my daughter’s 4th grade trip to Sacramento, our state capital, to learn about the history of our state, including the history of the California gold rush. Of course, a highlight of the trip is visiting inactive gold mines in the region. As I stood with my daughter and her friends deep in the tunnels of the Goldbug mine today, the docent turned out the lights to show how just how dark it is inside of a mine. My daughter said, “Mom it’s so dark I can’t tell if my eyes are opened or closed.” From the mouths of babes. . .

Today we took a very long and difficult ride to visit a gold mine. Mining is prevalent in Eastern Congo and remains a key factor in the tragic exploitation and violence which defines this region.

We didn’t think we’d be back here so soon. It has only been 15 weeks since we last left eastern Congo in November 2009. This time, we’ve come back with a broader coalition of funders, spearheaded by Ben Affleck, to launch our collaborative Eastern Congo Initiative (ECI).   Jewish World Watch was invited to join Affleck’s ECI as a founding member.   ECI aims to help the victims of violence and support the Congolese people in rebuilding their civil society—a society that values the safety and security of all of its members—including women and children.

In the capacity of translator, I happened to be invited by the Jewish World Watch team on mission trip to Congo from 2^nd to 12^th November 2009. Though I am living in Rwanda now, I am an Eastern Congolese by birth, member of the Banyamulenge (ethnic Tutsi) community established in South Kivu with Bukavu as the Chief city.

Posted by Rev Isaiah M Seyeze, from Rwanda

Greetings JWW blog readers.  My name is Mike Ramsdell.  I have had the privilege of capturing this “Congo journey” in still and moving images.  I am pleased that Janice has asked me write a guest blog for two reasons.  The first is so I may shamelessly plug my most recent film – THE ANATOMY OF HATE: A DIALOGUE TO HOPE. (You can learn all about it at www.anatomyofhate.com)  The second, and admittedly more important reason, is to speak about the one thing my travel partners have not spoken of – themselves.

How strange to be out of Congo. As Isaiah, our incredible translator, and I walked across the border he showed me the river that marks the boundary between the two countries here: on one side, chaos – a young man shaking down every old lady carrying insanely heavy loads up the mountain side, everyone crowding the immigration window at once – on the other, relative order, neatly organized single-file lines, gas stations, power lines. How strange to be on that other side again.

Ten days ago we arrived in Kigali with trepidation and expectation.  It seems like a day or two ago in some ways; yet in other ways it seems like a lifetime ago.

Today we drove across the entire country of Rwanda—from Bukavu at the Congo-Rwanda border to Kigali.  It took almost 8 hours.  The countryside is completely gorgeous.  But I was struck by how different Rwanda looked to me today than it did when we stopped here en route to Congo. 

Suddenly we are surrounded by a sea of children.  As we stand there they begin to form a circle around us and move in closer and closer.

 Janice and I came outside after seeing an impressive women’s sewing collective.  We are in a remote village called Kamisimbi, two hours outside of Bukavu in the hills.  We have been brought here by Gila Garaway, an Israeli/American who heads an incredible organization called Moriah Africa, to see the women’s empowerment program she helped start. 

I don’t sleep here, even with sleeping pills.  I wake up after a few hours, images of the day racing through my head, trying to make sense of all I have witnessed and heard.  This morning I got up at 4 am.  I just couldn’t stand it anymore.  I preferred to get up and busy myself with packing to leave for Bukavu.  It wasn’t long before Janice and Naama were up also, trying to get pictures of the sunrise—some beauty amidst all this sadness.