Miserable Eyes In the Democratic Republic of Congo: Please Read This, Congressman Murtha

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By Georgianne Nienaber (about the author) Page 4 of 4 page(s)

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Girl's Dorm

The radio station beams conservation propaganda to the surrounding villages. When I told the staff about Radio Okapi, the UN sponsored communication network in DRC, they were surprised that outside programming (world news) was available. Information is power, and these people are powerless. As the Native American artist Buffy St. Marie wrote: "The tricked and evicted, they know what I mean."

The community health clinic was a house of horrors, but the best the local nurse had to work with. A political operative who viewed the photos said he would not want to have a boil lanced there, let alone surgery. The staff there has not been paid in five months either. An examination of the drug cabinet showed the Pfizer logo on tattered boxes, stacked on top of the meager drug cabinet. Vials of the chemical contraceptive Depo Provera were on the shelf, which supported stories that local women were allowed to use the clinic only if they were chemically sterilized. Condoms were available, but not emphasized, even though that is the only way in which the plague of AIDS will be slowed in this country. These community health programs can be viewed as a form of sanctioned genocide. The USAID "family planning" program in Africa is worth its own investigation.

Village "Surgical" Facilities

The "community clinic" nurse was told, and believes, that the local population must be reduced for fear of over-population and because it is unhealthy for a woman to have babies one after the other. AIDS is not fully emphasized, and AIDS is the real scourge of Africa. With the average life span being 44 years, the population is certainly sustainable. What conservation organizations want is more habitats for themselves and the gorillas, and a possible tourism base.

Classrooms are pitiful excuses for a learning center--there were four (perhaps five) semi-completed rooms, but each was open at the rafters to the next, so noise from adjoining classrooms provided constant distraction. The facility was filthy, the concrete crumbling, the students still optimistic. I cannot show their bright, eager, faces, since that would put them in jeopardy. The students asked me what I would do for them. Promised that the video tape of their needs would reach the offices of USAID and American government representatives, they applauded. Sadly, the truth was stolen and erased in the name of "conservation," Now the man who stole claims the tapes have not been erased. He wants money. Truth mutates like shape-shifters in Congo.

The 600 plus "orphans" are another story. The Goma-based conservationist who runs the program said in a taped interview that they "go home at night." The follow up question was: "If they are orphans, how can they go home?" The man replied that they went "home to relatives."

367 plus university students (I did not see that many) have 20 computers with only 7 connected to the Internet when there is power. There is never enough fuel for the generator. A small library has outdated books, one of which is on North American timber wolves. There were a few current field guides to flora and fauna, but not enough to call the curriculum that of a University. In early January, a Freedom of Information request about curriculum and salaries was submitted to USAID, but per the FOIA process, there has been no OIG or USAID response so far.

There is a serious question about whether the buildings have been constructed from wood harvested from the preserve. Inferior Eucalyptus provided the material for the unfinished "orphanage." Possible timber harvesting should be verified or disproved. Photos show extensive logging on both roads that lead to the preserve.

There were still the Mbingi orphans to find. Just before the entrance to the compound, a dilapidated shrine to Our Lady of Lourdes rests deep in the valley below. Even the blessed mother of God could not possibly heal what was around the next bend in the road. Perhaps the Catholic Church should spruce up the shrine and do something about outlawing chemical sterilization at the community "clinic."

What exists at Mbingi is worth a human rights investigation, and is a fitting end to a journey into the real heart of darkness. The children live in the devil's workhouse. The kids in Dickens' Oliver Twist had it good. At least they could ask for more. Twenty plus stunted, malnourished children, hair falling out in patches, ringworm covering their scalps, garbed in dirty green "uniforms" that could pass for prison garb, with the initials for the gorilla preserve emblazoned over the right breast pocket, rushed out to greet the Mzunga. Both the director and the teacher spoke only French. The man who would later steal the video-taped record of the exchange was also the translator. It was obvious at this point that the translation was flawed. The situation was reminiscent of the old joke about the translator who provides a one-word answer to a five-minute speech. The director finally revealed the "cupboard,"-the room where food is stored. A couple of sacks of half-empty meal for porridge slumped open on the dirty floor. "Who provides the food?" The teacher and the local director gave the name of the conservationist/henchman who runs the program.

Mbingi Orphans

"Feeding time"---it cannot be called it a meal-was next. Each child was given a cup the size of a medium coffee mug and marched up to a dirty green plastic pail that held a pasty looking gruel. Each cup was filled three-quarters full and the children returned to their dirty benches, armed crossed, waiting for the last child to be served. A signal was given, and the video recorded slurping sounds reminiscent of a barn full of cattle. Not another sound. "Slurp, Slurp, Slurp."

What anyone can or wants to do with this account is anyone's guess. Sadly, it represents only a tiny fraction of what goes on in the name of foreign aid and conservation. The eyes of the Congolese people are on us. So far, they don't like what they see. We have more than one mess on our hands, Congressman Murtha. Please send me back. I am still not afraid of the Congolese—I am afraid of the conservationists.

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Georgianne Nienaber is an investigative environmental and political writer. She lives in rural northern Minnesota, New Orleans and South Florida. Her articles have appeared in The Society of Professional Journalists' Online (more...)

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