The two faces of the heart of Africa

by Safia Hosein (Trinidad and Tobago)

I didn't expect to find Congo Democratic Rep

The last sweet note of the song was sung and the women stood in anticipation for my response. Their husband’s had been murdered protecting both animal and human life in the Congo. I clapped, congratulating them, the gesture seeming hollow in comparison to what they had endured. The Widow’s of Fallen Rangers in the Virunga National Park had been given the opportunity to learn English after the park started caring for them. They shyly said hello and asked how my day was in their newly learnt language, blushing when I answered back. I finished the tour of their workshop of teddy bears they made to sell to tourists and they sang me goodbye, melodic African voices that evoked melancholy. The Ranger, smartly dressed in a forest green uniform with a rifle by his side, detailed the trek for the group. Having decided to hike to the rim of Nyragongo, a volcano born into a volatile country, a good briefing was needed. We met our porters, young and old men willing to climb to over 11000 feet for one hundred US dollars. Wearing flip flops and t-shirts for a chilly wet climb they trailed the group. Bombarded with rain and hailstones about a quarter of the way up, we all sought shelter, huddling under the same tarp, laughing and sharing snacks to distract us from the cold and damp. We trudged the rest of the way up, slipping and sliding on wet ground and then finally digging our toes into scree on the final push to the summit. A witches’s cauldron met us at the top. Peering into the world’s largest lava lake was astonishing. The size of two football fields, the glowering lake perpetually churns and what can be described as the earth ‘burping’, expels massive gas explosions. All of us stared in wonderment, locals and tourists alike, standing on the rim and looking down into the pool of molten earth. We spent the night on the edge of the rim, sleep evading us as the deafening booms rocked the night. We met up the next morning for the trek down, tired red rimmed eyes greeting our enthusiastic Ranger leading the way. The next day, being transported to the jungle for a Gorilla trekking expedition, the road led us through a village where children ran alongside the vehicle and gave us thumbs up. You could not help but crane your neck and watch them disappear in the distance, their smiles contagious. Passing fields of sweet potato, local men outfitted in suits, donated by office workers, toiled the fields. Their quiet dignity was sobering. The group trashed through the jungle, behind the guide and Ranger who carried machetes, clearing a winding path. After an hour, they both stopped and we all peered over their shoulders. There they were, a family of Silverback Gorillas, just enjoying their day. Mom was cuddling her baby and Dad was swatting flies away. A toddler sprung from tree to tree like a young Tarzan and demanded we give him attention. How could humans murder these animals who share ninety eight percent of our DNA ? They were just like a regular family, sadly, endangered now. The ride back to Goma, the town that borders the Democratic Republic of Congo with Rwanda was bittersweet. I was looking forward to not having an armed escort and driving on roads that did not threaten to rattle the soul out of my body. One of the Rangers in the truck that day was female. I had seen quite a few of them during my visit and I was mind blown. Here was a country that I would have automatically assumed would have very specific gender roles but these women were holding their own. That was just one example of how DRC surprised me. War was everywhere, as evidenced by the copious amounts of armed uniformed soldiers and UN Peacekeepers deaths.I had expected a broken, unwelcome people, but what I found was a country bursting with natural resources that dared to be explored and a proud, strong and resilient nation that welcomed strangers with shy smiles and ‘thumbs up’s ‘. That day, I left a piece of me in the Congo.