African Women Writing Resistance: An Anthology of Contemporary Voices

Prayers and Meditation Heal Despair

When talking about healing, it is impossible to separate these four words: suffering, pain, prayers, and strength. We human beings are not meant to suffer; our lives should be enjoyed and fully lived. But there are times in every life when suffering and pain are unavoidable. For me it was when my family and my extended family were swept up in the civil war in my country, the Republic of Congo (not to be confused with the former Zaire). When political ethnic tensions erupted into civil war in 1998, my country entered a period of unimaginable terror. In the capital, Brazzaville, fighting turned a peaceful place into a hell on earth. Houses were looted and bombarded and civilians were randomly killed. Checkpoints were built, at which many people lost their lives. Both sides used barbaric tactics to assault each other. Women and girls were raped. On the streets rival groups paraded with the heads of dead people stuck on poles. One night, when about forty friends and relatives were seeking shelter in my house, our compound was attacked by fighters looking for people they deemed 214 Prayers and Meditation Heal Despair Pauline Dongala their enemies. They launched rockets and shot at the compound all night. We were terrified, all lying on the floor, some vomiting and having diarrhea, not knowing what the next minute would bring. We were just praying all the time. When things quieted down late in the night, we left the house and fled. Leaving the house was frightening and very dangerous. We could see rockets in the sky, looking like fireworks. On both sides the fighters were kidnapping girls and boys and torturing people—the barbarism was unspeakable. Dead bodies were found floating in the Congo River. People were killed for not having money to bribe the gunmen or because they had some precious things on them, like a nice pair of shoes, a watch, or jewelry. You could be killed just for being on the wrong side of whatever bloodthirsty fighter you might chance to meet. We managed to leave the capital, leaving behind us all our belongings and wandering in the bush and neighboring villages. At that time my husband was away, lecturing in the United States, so I was running on my own with three young children, all girls. I was constantly praying, seeking God’s protection, trying to keep positive thoughts around us. It seemed to be working. At one checkpoint a militiaman who knew me shouted to his friend, “This woman is from our opponents’ group!” I thought to myself, “If my time has arrived, please, God, take care of my children.” But a second voice came out of the crowd, calling, “Leave her alone and let her go!”At another checkpoint a soldier pointed a gun at me because I did not have my identity card with me, but once again Providence was with my family and me and we were allowed to proceed. For a while, we were hiding in the forest and the jungle, and we endured a terrible period of starvation. When we knew that we would soon run out of food, we started taking turns eating. The men and children would have a meal one day, the women the next day. Sometimes we only were able to eat three meals a week. Later the civil war reached the regions where my extended family lived. During the bombing and shootings I lost two brothers, my aunt, two cousins, and one niece all in one day, all civilians. The rest of my family also left their houses and sought refuge in the jungle. At that time my husband’s friends in the United States, including Philip Roth and PEN-International, were able to secure a teaching job for him at Bard College. Although most of the embassies were evacuating their people and refusing to grant visas to the seekers of asylum or to those who wanted to leave the country, my husband was finally granted a visa for him, me, and our three girls to come to the United States. Our arrival there was somewhat of a media event: the New York Times, the Boston Globe, and several other magazines covered it. Prayers and Meditation Heal Despair 215 Behind us in the Congo, the tragedy continued. The population fleeing the war was still in the jungle, without any assistance. I had no news of my...