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In that voluminous work of mine which I’d soon get published, “Hurdles We Crossed”, I have selected this chapter to get out of print independently because this literary narrative sounds unique. Its historical sequel and writing style distinguish it from other chapters!

It’s an account of what we have passed through during those years of civil war, firstly with a retrospective on our lives prior to our wandering in the world; and secondly with a personal aspiration and a song of patriotic tenderness.
It’s an account too of a nation which has passed through a surgery of lifetime, yet its future is still enigmatic!
A decade of civil war has been a creepy period. Life was wrapped up in a web of hardships; cruising around the surface of the earth, encountering crucifixion and cruelty of neighborhoods … All this contributed more pains to our bleeding wounds as desperate vagrants.

Before I made my epilogue, I had gone (by friends’ advices) through pains of adding some epigrams and odes to my previous work so that I may release a complete and concise compact.










Submitted:Nov 2, 2008    Reads: 185    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


To
Didier K. Omary,
the man together with whom I was enveloped in the same web,
my brother and
close friend
and
Sadiki Ramazani Shemi;
the man together with whom I shared those sleepless nights of phobia;
this work
is solely dedicated.
Acknowledgments
Many people have been of a great paramount support to me during the first draft of that big work which I am still compiling to date. But I am particularly indebted to
David Mtange Mwabi,
Jacques Msombwa Mabaso,
Herry Ebalo, Pst Jeremiah Rukukuye,
Jerome Kakozi Mzuri,
NGoy, Miss Avril Benoliel,
Ebuela Bicingini, Djuma, Munga Lubangya, Barthelemy Mboboci,
Damas, Mukandama Kalulu,
Mopatas, David Mteko Amisi,
Hosea M'sabaa, Alooci Jeremiah,
Mau, Mwenelwata Calvin,
Bas�nd� Herbas�, Basunga M'masa;
and finally,
Songwa Akechi Ese'wa�
for their outstanding friendships and great encouragements which did surpass mere lips to express and an ink to mention!
Foreword
In that voluminous work of mine which I'd soon get published, "Hurdles We Crossed", I have selected this chapter to get out of print independently because this literary narrative sounds unique. Its historical sequel and writing style distinguish it from other chapters!
It's an account of what we have passed through during those years of civil war, firstly with a retrospective on our lives prior to our wandering in the world; and secondly with a personal aspiration and a song of patriotic tenderness.
It's an account too of a nation which has passed through a surgery of lifetime, yet its future is still enigmatic!
A decade of civil war has been a creepy period. Life was wrapped up in a web of hardships; cruising around the surface of the earth, encountering crucifixion and cruelty of neighborhoods … All this contributed more pains to our bleeding wounds as desperate vagrants.
Before I made my epilogue, I had gone (by friends' advices) through pains of adding some epigrams and odes to my previous work so that I may release a complete and concise compact.
PART I
CROSSING THE MORASS OF FEAR
"If life has just called you to a roundabout of despair and dreadful situation, try to hang on a ray of hope and refuse stoutly to be smashed."
_ Dadier Malango
If ever heaven had protested, the sky couldn't open its firmaments to be born such a bleeding Friday!
It was on 25th October 1996 at Bwegera in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo.
The schools never opened their gates nor were offices attended by anyone, only a heavy rain of bullets from heaven was pelting on us! The pets were loosened from their leashes undeliberately, wandering around our old small town, Uvira.
Throughout the land, there were rumours about foreign legions who crept into the meanders of River Ruzizi and hid themselves in the sugarcanes of Kiliba. Their noses were discovered by farmers early in the morning around the vicinities and reeds of a nearby marsh; and their toes were apparently seen in the flood of Nyangara.
When trumpet had been blown by our lacal barracks, we were embroiled with fear and found ourselves in a complete dilemma.
It was a bolt from the blue! It was such a nightmare of gnashing of teeth!!!
There wasn't a nexus between day and night when people were getting lost. The rainbow was on the eastern side of the sky, the rain was showering on the west, the northern side was marked by an outburst wind and the sun was inflating in the south, making it a very nasty day ever had in our generation's history!
The state was invaded and captured by our allies, fully armed whose faces had turned disgraced!
A country of duck parents who first fed their stomachs while their young ones slept hungered was seriously hit by invaders. It was such a pragmatic affair, a bitter blaze that had come to cramp our genealogy's progress and bury our customs!
We were born in those mansions with leaves on top as roofing and painted with cow-shits. We walked barefoot and our mothers cooked in those pots made of clay. Whether there was technology around our neighbourhoods or not, our eyes were very dim to recognize anything that glitters!
In our shabbiness, we had neither understanding of choosing the right sheen nor even wisdom of comprehending the colour-wheel. There was neither Plascon nor even electricity house in the midst of the easterners at Fizi.�Therefore, any colour around our premises was right for its day, whether glittering or dull; we lived to kick off desolate days. We lived to light those kerosene lamps in our sitting rooms while the rest of the house could remain in total darkness!
Truly speaking, from the cradle; prior even to our independence to Mobutism we all admitted that we were ignorant of all the happenings of this amazing universe!
When it was gloomy we knew it's going to rain. We had no meteorologists to tell us about the next day's weather.
But that Friday the sky had gradually changed into red. There were no noises in the air or angels of the Lord in the sky to bring us any word of prophecy. We all knew that there were pitfalls ahead; and finally, we were startled!
If we had a snooze and conceived a dream that rode us in the sky; for heaven's sake and stars and moon being our witnesses, we couldn't perceive the splendor of angels. Our hearts and souls were blind to see the magnificent looks above the surface! We were still crossing the morass of fear and getting acquainted to the eminent boom of sleepless nights and desolate days of anguish and anxiety.�Besides, our daughters before the enemy's sword ready to be slain were themselves angels we wanted to see once again on earth!
Our way after those bombshells raided on us was not like that of Israelites; designed, provided and foredestined by a divine being and led by earthly appointed creatures.
We woke and line up towards unknown destiny, a strange neighbourhood where our teeth were terribly gnashed and our pumpkins shabbily buried into the caves.�We had no leader, yet we were still teenagers who needed guidance and parental support!
We forged ahead without giving up although there still remained bit challenges. Blood gushing out of our veins, gross tears drowning on our faces, we nostalgically sighed until our strength waned off. But nobody was there to look after us and wipe our open wounds!
Our allies came together with those people whose names were startling and scaring! They came with people called Ghost Mirida and Commander Satan, only to desolate our nation and plant within our kids' wits endless phobia.�
We always wondered if Satan could precede the second advent of Christ, then nobody would be left alive. Even the bones (as we presumed) of our great grand parents which lied in the graves for several centuries ago could have been made alive to face a capital punishment. Thus, the ghosts and the livings together in this universe of fear would be another bomb last!
When the invaders crept into our land we certainly knew that the sword of hell will definitely pass through our throats and lungs; and there would eventually come our fatality.
We were afraid of death before even cartouches were thrown to our bodies.
Those armies that flocked into our valleys and mountains for battle and liberation were barbarian. They were very remote; preaching peace while they had brought the devils with them in their luggage and sharp sword in their hands.�Their boots were having steel soles to smash our toes and castrate our testicles.�They forced our parents to walk barefoot in a society where even bushmen's kids from all corners of our continent can't even afford to, nowadays!
Our mothers and daughters were taken into promiscuous sex and raped at our naked eyes. And whenever any mouth rose up for human dignity and rights, they plotted against it. We were threatened to be given free-tickets to heaven!!!
We were taken into military services in our teens and led into front attacks while we were still on our mothers' teats. We were imprisoned and killed during training on camps, yet they couldn't perceive that our muscles and bones were still very weak to parade with the enemy and our minds feeble to cope with the tensions!
We were forced to carry heavy fire-arms and ammunitions; yet when we fell down with those heavy guns, we were stripped to death!
We were killed when we failed and missed to shoot our relatives whom we found sitting and hiding themselves around the wells and fountains, on beaches and on road-sides, in the forests and under the rocks.
They were dog-tired and needed a sip of water when we never wanted to spin out their blood. We cried louder when commanders ordered us to slash the forest with a shower of bullets. We certainly knew that we would kill our own kinsmen!
We were called Kadogo because of our sizes and we were trained to shoot our parents right into their throats.
We were plunged and immersed into great deep waters full of whales and sharks without swimming tips, yet we had been forced to reach safely to the dry-land!
We were buried alive under the sands and slabs across Lake Tanganyika and burned alive in the bush along the Chaine de Mitumba and in our houses!
They spat into our mouths and on our faces; and our mothers' pregnancies were taken out by force to face a penalty of death!
The civil war erupted when our sole hope for salvation was founded in those huge bands of our national army; only to be later disappointed by gorillas that got lost in a mass of civilians.
Either they were civilians too but in soldiers' uniform or police of peace or even boy scouts, none of us could tell.
None of them could parade with the foreign forces.
None of them could resist the giants whom some time back we first considered ants and grass hoppers.
The soldiers of our time got lost in a massive population like tadpoles thrown into an ocean where big fish and mammals are found.�They were under our armpits, hiding themselves in our feet as if we were the islands for their refuge.�They hid their fire-arms under the sand on our beaches, in the grass on top of our houses and in those holes which were found around our surroundings.�They surrendered before the enemy's hands like guilty gang stars before the local police!�
We hid them under our beds and we could dump those left-overs to them like puppies under a poor master's table awaiting for thrown bones!�
If those soldiers' sinful acts (harassments and embarrassments) in the past could be properly calculated and taken into consideration, then they were the best criminals we could expose before the enemies.�
Along with them in that queue towards the unknown, they were thrown up into the air, blown higher by the whirlwind until they disappeared from the people's sight like pieces of papers wobbling in the surface.
Every body was sorry for us when we were like orphanages but nobody sympathized with us during that dire period of struggles.
Now en route towards that anonymous universe when those skirmishes had gradually escalated into a full civil war, we were left as desperate as small penguins to fly. Yet we had no wings to evade such rockets and missiles that had fallen on our houses.
As toddlers with feeble feet, weak hands and delicate bodies, tossed by heavy storms of the lake we couldn't realize how we survived!
Either there was somebody for our rescue or we struggled hard alone until the waves got us back to the dry land alive, we didn't know! It was a complete mystery!
If we had wings we could have flown far miles away from that blood-shed, the battlefield which had come to bury our souvenirs, ate our ancestors and loathed our children's skins.
If, perhaps, there were an island in a nearby place, like that of Patmos where the disciple of Christ was carried to, we wouldn't have dragged nor shuffled our feet from getting shelter into!
There too, as we imagined, we couldn't have had any single minute or flying second to predict about the gloomy future. But we could rather use every iota of opportunity and time to plan afoot on how we should hastily save our nation from such a national downfall.
Our hearts were very bitter, wrapped up with grudges; and our eyes were shedding sour tears every day and night.
Therefore, even if we were Christ's followers, we couldn't have been given any revelation by him to snatch such a troddened nation from the enemy's hand.�We could always feel that we were gentle reprobates.
Our anxiety and anguish, hatred and anger had gone and lasted beyond the sunset. We went on with our desperate mood for a couple of days and nights; weeks and months!
But as we measured our emotional temperature and physical mood as our faces turned pale, we could have cried much until our tears in an island would create another mole in the vicinity of great waters.
Unfortunately, weeping was not listed in our last hobbies. We often attributed it to our kids when we were teens; and according to our basic Ethical Education, man's tears are as expensive as gold to be seen in public arena. Only women were expected to weep anyhow before even they embroiled in fearful circumstances!
As young men as we have been, the situation grew worse. It was very squeezing, turning from bad to worse. And to our mums and aunts, this plight was as dreadful as puppies before a roaring lion!
The bomb lasts; this nasty smell atmosphere, a shower of bullets was to them a complete surgery and a gateway to abortion!
The beautiful ones who were expected to be born were dumped into dustbins under those big mango trees across the roads and streets.
In the east, especially at Fizi, there assembled groups of men and young men who stood polemically against violence, aggression and oppression.
They were called Mai Mai; men whose bodies dripped bullets and rockets floated on!
It was drizzling when they made queues alongside the roads to grab by force ammunitions and guns from our deserted soldiers.
They blocked all the dreadful paths from the enemies' advancement until the latter were totally discomfited!
Burega and Uvira were initiated whereas Baraka at Fizi things had become too hot.
On the banks of River Mtambala young men made a defensive front which stopped the opponents for a couple of six months; but only to be later disappointed that it was the state's affair and the world's business!
Young men got out of the streets; later Bukavu followed by Kisangani were at the enemies' hands, Lubumbashi was invaded, Kikwiti was marked by a great slaughter; Kasa�s were terribly demolished and robbed, Maniema was badly pillaged; Matadi was in danger and finally, Kinshasa was captured!
The tragedy of our own time started when we fell asleep, having been stabbed by the sword of the enemy. One couldn't be capable of measuring the mysterious grandeur of such a great blood-shed. The political adventures introduced by the so called erudite politicians and churchmen of our time befell on us and became a nightmare!
Our leading figures were not clairvoyants to prevent such challenging events. They had all boycotted their official duties to line up for black market deals of nibbling our wealth and devastating our natural resources. And without being mindful of our health and growth, they did dig holes for our misery!
When the civil war began, we were obliged to cross our boundaries. But our deep lakes and rivers with no enough ships and boats or bridges; our dense and immense forests with no roads; our salty mountainous streams and old untarmacked roads were themselves wars against our health and progress.�
They were themselves sharp swords against us; swords made ready to dash us into pieces. Those big reptiles in the sea and apes in the forests couldn't spare our lives. They devoured us until we weren't a people but only preys around every corner of our state.
Crossing borders was a risky, boring and nasty task too. After a great manoeuvre, having reached the incredible foreign states, we grew thinner, slender and unhealthy.
We camped and lived in the bushes sheltering under the tents. We ate one sort of food with no varieties and spices throughout the years.
We slept on the beaches, in the market-places, in those big halls in towns, around the busy streets and under the bridges and the shades of wide trees.
Those embarrassments and the coldness of the night, those harassments by foreign police and that spontaneous loneliness always left us half-dead! We collapsed and fainted!
Those years we lived had been full of memories of serious troubles and infamous legacies.
We lived in a sinister and dazzling world where scandals were dangerous weapons and truth was something no one dared to speak. It was an epoch of scandals, political fear and corruption, social problems; economic crisis and discrimination.
It was an era characterized by epidemics, illiteracy, famine and primitivity! Our government was greatly marked by insecurity, dictatorship, racism, violence, mass killing and human rights' deprivation.
Our nation had passed through so many bleeding scars. Either we had a cosmetic independence or it was a real one, who would tell?
What our parents sowed is what we had actually harvested, that is the world's view until now!�� The holes which colonialism left for our government to cover for the improvement of mining companies trapped us. They were the real snares into which we collapsed and died. They became the graves into which our relatives' bones and flesh were dumped!
�We lived in a hive where bees clustered together very busy making honey; but we neither tasted nor did we enjoy it!
We were thrown into the den of tigers; either they devoured or spared us for another day, we can't express. We didn't, for sure, experience their ferocity. We were sometimes ignorant and don't cares on matters concerning the hardness and harshness of lifetime.
If therefore, life is a bitter-sweet, we were the only recipients of its bitterness on earth. Ever since the cradle of our continent's rebirth in 1960's to ongoing twenty first century of 2000's we had smelled the hardships on earth!
The waves of life during our time were too stormy to face and resist; too difficult to handle!
Now here we stand and here lays our death.
Now here we are, millions of us dying and thousands suffering from the war-related maladies.
Surely we are afraid of jiggers and lice that the war had planted in our midst.
It was freak weather ever had in our era; the most lethal war ever recorded since we were born!��
PART II
WOUNDED HEARTS AROUND NEIGHBOURHOODS
"There is nothing like incoherent coincidence for human beings to meet and live together. It has been fore destined from cradle of humanity that we are all citizens of the World".
_ Dadier Malango
You could think that you are in a custody or police cell or even in a prison if you hadn't been man enough to resist the challenges of neighbourhoods.�
Our hearts were totally right to see the danger and communicated to our senses to feel it and flee in order to find solace yonder. But according to our neighbours, our minds were totally wrong to have chosen their lands as places for safety or refuge.
Therefore, there stood a coherency to avoid cataracts as we scattered and spread all over the universe.
The people from the South and East of the DRC had a ride in the Central and East African States; and later, they followed the greenish pasture of River Zambezi towards the south.�
Some of these states weren't only places for their refuge but also prisons into which their bodies slept with a package of despair and worry!
Just on the River's banks; across lake Tanganyika, Tanzania being in our mind as the state that has accommodated most us, had gone far to become the sword, made and sharpened to wound us again.
When we rode in Tanzania we were terribly mistreated.
We were pillaged, robbed, imprisoned and killed when we once rose up to dignify our children and bring a sense of human rights!
At first, when we drove in that socialist state as it used to be, which did recently become a Federal Republic of Tanzania dominated by Moslems in numbers, we thought we would receive almsgivings.
Secondly, a state with Christians as well, we expected that we would be led to a pylon, a gateway to an Egyptian temple.
But to them, we were just diminutive beings on a pyre! They isolated us far miles from their villages, putting us in the forests of fierce animals where we were devoured.
They have taken our properties, gold, silver, and diamond; and with their witchcraft they did even go extra miles to torture our children with some lethal illnesses as a sign of intimidation for us to vacate their land.
We were ravaged; our daughters were kidnapped and raped by their police officers.
We camped at Nyarugusu and Lugufu from those years of 1996 onwards, the forests which we had later turned into villages.
Our children too camped in Zambia where they nostalgically sighed due to the harassment of local police whereas those who fled to Kenya had been given shelter under equatorial sun around Sahara desert at Kakuma, a land of Turkana.
This is where they melted and grew slender and thinner until they shed sorrowful tears.
Kenya was a good land for us. We were called brothers and sisters by local citizens. They were gregarious and hospitable enough though corruption that once baffled their local police and government during that time of their old regime, KANU.
We were innocently imprisoned in Kenya to be later released by a small bribe which they could call, Kitu Kidogo.
In East Africa our cases in police cells presented and read before District Officers were written, "City wanderers".�They never realized that we were wandering around the community to make ends-meet!
We were stoutly refused to Work and were banned from making any business deals around their cities.
The East Africans too were wanderers; jobless people who mushroomed in their towns and gathered under the shades of public gardens and resting places. But they weren't in the crews when we were being taken to police cells!
Some of our children camped at Zaleka and Mwanza Boma in Malawi. The report received from that land was good and encouraging. We were well nurtured and treated in Malawi.
Most of us who were there, although minor challenges of starvation, had a good souvenir of that land.
Malawians were very welcoming and their government hospitable, making their land an interesting place to live.
Never in life had we ever discovered any land on earth whose nation is very humble and harmless than Malawians.
Our children too camped at Togogara in Zimbabwe when that country was terribly invaded by political decay and economic inflation.�Either Zimbabwe tasted good or nasty, we never enjoyed living in.
We never delighted into nepotism, obstinacy, radicalism, dictatorship and racism of that land.
We weren't happy to be those blacks, unless for a unique reason of coincidence, who couldn't get along and mingle with whites in our company!
Except for our deserted gorillas, we couldn't bide in Zimbabwe.�We shed tears of sympathy for Zimbabweans who were banished during our time but our endless intercession was, "Zimbabwe should be saved".
Another troop of remnants in that civil war from the South-East of DRC fled to Mozambique and camped in Nampula, a town from north. The red heat and dust of that state changed their colour. They slept hungry bellies until they surrendered before the UNHCR for voluntary repatriation.
While some of us who fled in Namibia and Botswana were segregated and harassed by police; life had called most of us in the South Pole of our continent.
During our strolls in the Capes, we always admired the dichotomy that lies between vulnerable pets and fraternal love of mankind.
We always desired to watch those pets being held on leashes, taken care of and led out for strolls.
We often desired to see those sign posts across the roads and streets halting us, "Lost Cat: grey hair, amusing and friendly bogie.�Great reward to anyone who knows his whereabout".
When we first saw this we were driven to a modern universe.
But when we got lost in the meanders of rivers, in the vicinities of modern cities; in long streets and slept without food in those big halls around their towns, none of them had stretched his hands to us.
None of them cared to know our whereabouts. Yet, we were vulnerable in our early age around a deep world of mysteries with no parents and guardians!
We were amorphous (shapeless nation who can't be described), yet we weren't analgesic to the ache that life had brought against us.
Nobody was there to hold our hands, take care of and lead us to where we once dreamt to convert our dreams into reality.
The Republic of South Africa was not only a good place to look upon due to its innumerable beautiful areas but also interesting because of its adjustment of people from different backgrounds and races.
During our adventure in the south, we had learned to become part of our kinsmen, sharing the old aches and forging ahead towards the new struggles of under-payment and unemployment!
Our hosts believed that the affluent society though friendly, somehow, was an ascetic nation.
Nevertheless, the modern democracy and the majority's advocacy, affluent people assembled themselves in their bars, restaurants and hotels without us.
Some of their doors were closed "on account of weather", a simple camouflage to lock us out!
It was until this stage that we affiliated ourselves to our kinsmen; but to be later disappointed!
We were thrown to police dogs to be bitten and out of trains in motion.
We were chased from their locations and stabbed by their knives!
When days were so gloomy abroad; and there seemed not to be a ray of hope for a better future back home, we never helped shedding sour tears again.
We were dazzled by the tenor of life but we never despaired; those were challenges of lifetime!
Abroad the schools' gates were publicly open for whoever would need to attend. There was within our wits a great passion for academic adventure; yet we had no money in the banks to pay our fees.
There wasn't an NGO implemented for us.
We received a few grants from individuals and families. We worked for our scholarships.
We slashed grass around colleges' premises. We wiped and washed tables and benches in the dining halls, we cleaned the pews in the chapels; we planted flowers on sunny and rainy days; we washed and rinsed plates and cleaned pots.
We uprooted weeds in gardens, stood on our guard as watchmen throughout the nights, looked after colleges' cattle; and finally, some of us made it through!
We obtained our certificates, diplomas and degrees as a result of our efforts on those hot days of summer and cold nights of winter.
PART III
LONELINESS ON BEACHCOMBERS
"Unless you cherish lasting bonds, you can't prove yourself for being a good partner".
_ Dadier Malango
You cannot run fast if one of your legs stacks behind in the mud or sinks into the sand!
You cannot walk confidently if cobblestones are on your way and no one is there to help you remove them!
You couldn't help to cry if you had missed your custom of walking in a pair, holding each other's hand, heading long towards a beach or for stroll in a far garden!
If you had been grazed in lush pasture with someone so dear and special to you, you can't resist the challenges of a tour you would dare to take alone.
You might be taken to Coco Beaches across the seas, either to Dar-Es-Salaam, Mombassa, Durban, Cape Town, and Los Angels or even to Miami for comfort; only to return home weeping bitterly!
We had toured around the beaches, ate at White Sands, Beach Combers and Sheraton Hotels, those ministers' palaces; but that was only a token to sow within our hearts more sorrows and stresses!
Those were the places we remembered our dear ones whom we buried under the sands when things were difficult to handle.
Those were places we missed those hands that used to share together with us the same tins of soup and sips of drinks.
Those were places we remembered our dear ribs that had fallen on the enemy's sharp sword!
The women that we had met during our wandering abroad had a form of pretedence.
The relationships and friendships we had some time back developed with them went waxing cold and lax!
They had only an inspiration engulfed with hypocrisy in it and enveloped with an enigma.
They followed us when we were as green as watered grass but when we were as yellow as ripe oranges, hit by the summer of bankruptcy, they went missing!
When they first followed us, they thought we would be resettled in greenish lands abroad where they believed to be a utopia world.
They married us in order to borrow wings to fly overseas and cross borders but were not wrapped up with the thread of love.
We were entangled on their ways, but the euphony of tenderness could not be heard among them. We engaged in love to be later enraged in trifling talks and endless conflicts!
On valentine day, they gave us gifts of raisins in smooth chocolate written on its packet, "A gift for spring, winter, and autumn; that is all is all friendship brings this season".
But when summer had come with its hot sun, they never resisted it because they weren't friends for summer.
They could melt on that hot sun.
The challenges of summer weren't within the scope of their understanding. They were friends for particular seasons of the year.
In the holy matrimony with them in a world of women first, we were just those husband puppies held on leashes!
When talking to us, they could only mention about their colour, riches and culture; but they never regarded ours to be one among the colours and cultures on earth!
The children we had together with them were hidden from us, taken for far tours from our sight.
As profile or career women; they greeted us on their nails and denied us a hang in public.
They were feeling aloof to walk with us in those alleys of their cities.
We weren't people they wanted to meet for bliss but mates they needed to boost up their trivial loneliness!�
We were those children but desperate vagabonds with no permanent dwelling places.
We weren't quite certain whether our parents were still surviving or died already in the atrocity of Makobola, in the bomb blasts of Baraka and Fizi, or even in that great slaughter of Kikwiti!
While the wind was blowing up our clothes and disturbing our tempers around the beaches, their images were still coming in our minds.
Left with bitterness, we may have thought to repose our heart and dim our sights for a moment before we drove our wheels back in a highway of loneliness.
Odious pursuits were nearly buried and wounded hearts were about to get healed. We just realized that we were in a company with Maoris, holding our shoulders and elbows as if they were maniac of honeymoon in a hot season.
But they couldn't hear our honk when we needed affection to bind for highest happiness on earth.
Some of them had firmly denied us even a hatch, turning our sensations and dumping our likeness away!
Others split asunder because we never knew how to eat on modern tables. Our teeth were used to eat yams and other arrowroots from equatorial reserves and Chaine de Mitumba.
On modern tables we were ignorant of which hand could hold the spoon and which other, the fork!
We weren't aware of table discipline and had no choice in a wide range of varieties. Our deep-rooted culture was not on how we could eat but on what could satisfy our stomachs.
Whenever we appeared with them on the tables, they could glaze at us so shabbily as if the speck and mote within their eyes would suddenly fall into our pupils.
Their nostrils and eye-lashes, shaded with mascara, were sparkling before our faces as if they had been accustomed to eat pepper for years. And whenever they spoke, they could only twaddle with us because we didn't know how to eat apples.
They were expecting us to exalt them to a turret because they were expert in chewing gums and numbering several sorts of pies by memory.
Yet, they weren't aware that our struggle was not anything concerning quantity or quality of food and how could we eat; but our struggle was food itself.
They couldn't perceive whether we had an internal bleeding on the other side of the river.
That great blow had ruined our lungs, cut off our appetite; shortened our sight of pleasure and brought us low and humble before mere conflicts.
We never wanted to be those desperate vagrants around the universe as well as faulty husbands in modern homes.
In our humility, they passed quietly through a tunnel of silence to the other side of the world, leaving us miserable in celibacy.
Those splendid faces that came for our comfort after we had been smashed by the rock of war went missing.
Nobody was there to splice us when we bitterly departed and followed our own ways.
Those days we spent on beaches were somniferous. When we fell asleep we never stood up again for them.�We had turned our minds towards another direction when they wanted us to take prestige in things we were ignorant of from infancy.
Each day with them opened a new curtain of conflicts. And in their ugly attitudes, they were created beings but we were just evolved creatures from apes. They were original beings and we were their imitations!
Throughout our days, we never enjoyed living with them.
When we failed to ennoble ourselves, the women we had met went hiding us their affection like squirrels hiding nuts. And there originated our sorrow.
Lonely on beachcombers, we shed tears as if we were stabbed again!
PART IV
CHILDREN: PITFALLS AHEAD!
"A military combatant who has incorporated his life into peace and conflict-resolution after years of struggles deserves much honour than a famous business man who encourages strife."
_ Dadier Malango
Darkness was always that huge dark cloud that used to shake our lungs during the night; and cemetery (when we were teens) was the last place on earth we admired to visit!
Yet, when the civil war began, we recanted what we once have said. We walked throughout the nights fleeing from the enemy's sword and attended burial ceremonies at various occasions.
When some of us followed the little band of mentors, we were warned of the danger ahead!
Our parents were ignorant of technology around our neighborhoods but they weren't ignorant of the perverse universe that was ahead of us.
Before we scattered abroad, they had sensed pitfalls that were to occur. Therefore, their last somber advice was, "Children: Pitfalls Ahead!"
We assembled under their feet and they instructed us on things to avoid and those to do so as to become good citizens of the world.
Their counsel was deeply rooted into the Bible. Why? Because they never found any other basis, book or source that is more reliable and helpful than the Bible itself. They knew before hand that we will have spent sleepless nights of phobia and itching days of hardships and xenophobia alone.�
They knew that they won't be with us when we would be delved into all those scenarios and scandals of life. But God's presence will ever be with us. And God's presence is always providing, guiding and intervening in times of want, afflictions and dreadful situation.
The euphony of our mentors' message was not only to be assured of God's presence but also to live by His own word. And it takes discipline, determination, and hard work to live God's way; but God protects and rewards those who make the commitment to follow Him.
Our mentors' counsels got us back to Proverbs and Psalms. Here are their words.
A person who is truly confident of his or her strength does not need to parade it.�A truly brave person does not look for chances to prove it.�A resourceful woman can find a way out of a fight. A man of endurance will avoid retaliating. Foolish people find it impossible to avoid strife. Men and women of character can.
If you don't study, you will fail the test; if you don't save, you will not have money when you need it. God wants us to anticipate future needs and prepare for them. We can't expect Him to come to our rescue when we cause our own problems through lack of planning and action. He provides for us, but he also expects us to be responsible.
People tend to become like those with whom they spend time. Even the negative characteristics sometimes rub off.
We were exhorted to be cautious in our choice of companions:
"Choose people with characteristics you would like to develop in your own life".
Times of trouble can be useful. They can show you who you really are, what kind of character you have developed.
Plotting to do evil can be as wrong as doing it because what you think determines what you will do.
Left unchecked, wrong desires will lead us to sin. God wants pure lives, free from sin, and planning evil spoils the purity even if the evil action has not yet been committed.
How easy it is to envy those who get ahead unhampered by Christian responsibility or God's laws. For a time they do seem to get ahead without paying attention to what God wants. But to those who follow him, God promises a hope and a wonderful future even if we don't realize it in this life.
Don't rationalize laziness. Take your responsibility seriously and get to work. Faithful completion of mundane tasks is a great accomplishment. Such work is patiently carried out according to a plan. Diligence does not come naturally to most people; it's a result of strong character.�Don't look for quick and easy answers. Be diligent men of God. There is life yonder; toil hard and smart but don't forget God.
After we had been assembled under our mentors' feet; we didn't tarry long to cross borders.
Their words were predictive and vivacious.
Just on the River banks some of us started to wave.�They had developed a spirit of greediness in them. They were lured and influenced by peers that mingled with them.
We have seen them grabbing other people's properties in the streets; lining up towards drug businesses in towns; and engaging themselves into strife and conflict around the foreign communities.
We have seen them dying as a result of their own deeds. We have witnessed them being imprisoned for the acts they had deliberately done.
We have seen them breaking up several relationships and marriages because they were tigers in a homestead.
When we wriggled around the world, there always stood among us gleeful conspiracies! We never clustered together as bees on a tree busy making honey. We were totally separate!
Now we have stood at the mountaintop and have sensed the danger again.�We have warned our children of it.
We would need both our children and us to be a good and peaceful nation. We would need our children to take the standard of living from God's word and fashion their lives in it. We would need them to abide by the laws and headlong towards gender equity.
We would need them to sew the torn clothes of a dreadful past and wear them confidently for the new dawn of peace.
We would need them to heal wounded hearts and promise the world to take peace into dead-ends of our state.
We would need them to join hands and cramp the stains of racism and tribalism and march towards the paths of democracy and national awakening.
PART V
BACK AFTER OUR RENAISSANCE
"It is neither a sin to recall a bloody history nor does it harm to love one's own nation and state even in times of adverse circumstances."
_ Dadier Malango
Alive or dead, home has been that beautiful place I craved for my body to be found after those bombshells raided on us.
How nasty it looked like before or even after it was terribly demolished, my lips are very heavy to utter anything bad about it.
I instructed myself to have such an outstanding patriotic tenderness. Love towards both my state and nation (during that period of great xenophobia in exile) has been something so grand that I missed much.
If I were instructed not to look back as I moved forward, I could surely turn into a pillar of salt like Lot's wife in Biblical Times.�Home was always a place I could remember, a natty glance that I admired to see no matter its nastiness.
Either asleep or awake, my heart was somewhere hanging at home.�I loved my country irrespective of its ugliness over the years. One thing I knew is that my state had nothing bad to harm me with; only poor leadership as I reckoned was people's.�I knew that it would reach a time when these people should come to a plenary confession of their sins and the country will be healed and born again.
�It seems too, very paradoxical and controversial to have loved Congo during that time of Nepotism and dictatorship. Mobutism as the term has been used, was a regime which dashed the whole Congolese nation into pieces and led the state into a national chaos and downfall.�But how smart it's to love your father or mother no matter how he or she is a prostitute is still unquestionable issue all over the world.
Furthermore, I have been a little child whose mind was very shallow to argue with my parents, whose arms and hands were very short to box them and whose mouth was restricted to spit on them.
If I could have done any impoliteness of such a nature, I would have found myself dead before even I see the sun rays and the splendid seas around the globe.�Wisdom required me (no matter what) to love them. I loved my national leaders but I hated their acts like hell!
It was during this epoch of political blindness and economic crisis that I found myself out of my state.�My flesh was in a foreign land but my heart or mind was somewhere in our farms and in those muddy places I plunged myself into with those folks of my age.�
Home was and still is my destiny.�I long to be there again, fleeing from emotional trauma and physical torture abroad.
The first Democratic Elections have passed well ever since we got our independence from Belgium in 1960's.�These elections have come to mark our climax; it's our state's renaissance, of course.
A country that has been torn for the last forty five years is being sewed. At the end of 2006 we have had our first elected president and leaders.�Either we are satisfied with the result or greediness still keeps us bound to rebellion, Congo has experienced a pragmatic change. We have to admit it.�We are wheeling our van towards another angle. We are making a fast move towards Democracy. We are happy and joyful.
Shouldn't we go back now?�Shall we find a solace there?
However, no matter how life promises there, home is that last place on earth I will ever dislike. I haste happily to be there, being found together with and among my people and getting out of the reeds. Once in our adventure I was wounded. There were reeds which once rubbled my skin. They were ready to cast me and throw me in the den of fiery beasts.
After Congo's rebirth, I shuffle my feet back home and here remain my scripts. It does no harm to say again and again, "I love DRC".
Lost or found, wrong or right I am in a public arena to be collected and corrected. I learned to be both funny and serious too. Conservative or lenient, I should not be there to be tossed nor dragged by any kind of doctrine.�I have got an engine to drive me back.
I have received many realistic and somber advices from friends and colleagues, relatives and neighbours. Many of them bogged me down. They advised me that it's too early to go back home. They said that Congo is still a battlefield, a second waterloo. It's a nasty place to visit today!
Yet many days have elapsed (almost a decade) of civil war we are still looming around and roaming into other people's states.�Discouragement and disappointment were the bitterest foes I fought when I took the unbending stand of hasting back home.�But there is a way out. There was an entrance there can't lack an exit! If we had a little courage to run away we can also be vigorous enough to direct our woofs back home. There is always an exodus, a rainbow after a gloomy day.
However, it was the disciples of the late Dr. Carl MicIntire (Founder of the International council of Christian Churches, ICCC), Dr. Timothy Tow, Dr. Jeffrey Khoo, Dr. Mark Kim and Lecturer Rev. Stephen Masila (B.Th, M.Div) who taught me the principle of DIN. This little surviving band of mentors has an unbending Christian moral in our decreasing Christian faith. This principle was used during their polemic stand against the World Council of Churches (WCC).
The World Council has cracked down due to its inclusion of all faiths together! It was because of such a compromise that Dr. Carl revolted and lifted up the banner of truth; he then founded the so called today, "ICCC".
Therefore, in that speed-up action against heretics and their heresies by DIN they meant, "Do It Now, Delay It Not."�
Hence, any idea conceived, either to snatch a nation from pitfalls or to freed oneself from bondage should be greatly done now. Delay causes a lot of damages.
Meanwhile, DIN is the sole driving-force that I reckon as wheels to drive me back home now.�I make plans afoot with no delay. I speed-up to go back home. I am very practical and realistic. I am very much determined to start a step forward whether it's a personal failure or gain.�I know how it's discouraging to be a foreigner and how encouraging and benefiting it's to be in one's land.
I was not in a foreign land to become a missionary or a minister in any sector of work. I was there to be an asylum seeker. I was longing and waiting for peace to prevail.�Peace now prevailed; shall I have to wait again?�Perhaps you would say, "Wait for renovation".�It sounds very strange! I never fled from anything called, "Renovation". I lived in Congo during that time of great chaos, it wasn't renovated! It was dashed to dust!�I ran away from war, only war alone.
Finally, either cobble stones or walls on my way, I shuffle my feet already back to my natal land, the abode of my forefathers.
The exilic adventure left me at a certain hang-gliding stage, a complete mayhem!
Living in a sinister and dazzling world, where scandals are current epitome and discrimination is the age's fashion, it's easy to make complaints and blame-shift them too.�But when I have taken the unbending decision of getting back home, I blamed nobody to have forced me nor do I have any ghost in my mind to spit on. It's a personal conviction. I wasn't chased nor followed after, I repatriated myself. I asked and sought for it, and it was magnanimously granted unto me.
I know where I have been stepped on; and I recognize those folks who stabbed my ribs. They squeezed me around the corner and depraved me of my human rights; having denied me an access to grasp my star! They blame-shifted my parents' sins to me and I was a prey into their hands.�They never gushed out my blood but they wanted me dead. I considered it a challenge of lifetime.
The sun in a foreign country was too hot, very near to the planet earth. It was too much hot to rubble our skins. Its rays in our eyes left us blind and its challenges up-rooted our pumpkins. Our culture in this society has been buried.
We worked to acquire wealth and we ate to be full but we have never been rich and happy to live there. We ate to be full but not to be healthy! Health and wealth as I could view them is an inner happiness and stability of mind. We grew thinner and thinner, yet outwardly smart and clean.
The sword that we fled from our state is the one that we found there too; and the little bribe that we cast and escaped is the sole game they only know how to play. Therefore, I was about to hang myself feet first when I saw a little bribe right in their midst!
When I realized all that, I put a palm of hand on my cheek and I had nothing to worry about. It's life anyway on earth!
Despite all those mountainous difficulties that we faced and hurdles we crossed, I have nobody nor any ghost in mind that I should spit on. Hence, that was life.
I know that life is a bitter-sweet. Sometimes when its splendor sheds light on you, you are definitely lucky and blessed. But when it turns its shadow away from you, then you are unfortunate!
The flow of life is like a goat's tail, it has no fixed direction.
�Those who have done us some harm in the past, we have heartily forgiven. And those who have divorced us we never kept grudges.
We have mended off our differences and now we line-up for a democratic change.�During our Exodus and resettlement home, we blame none.
I don't know how the sea would feel if one fish gets out of water or how the world would perceive it if one person leaves the earth.
Either loss to the fish or gain to water of having no much burden, I can't tell. Either loss to people or gain to the world of having no much demography, there is still a particular slant! There is a certain strange feeling.
But I am persuaded that, cumbered of care or not, any host feels lessened from a certain amount of load if his/her visitor turns back to his or her home.�Although not every person may feel that, but it's natural too and human to sense a unique change when one visitor leaves.
I am sure that there are friends who would wish me to stay here some days again. I am quite sure that they will shed bitter tears and heavy drops while escorting me to Bus-station or to Airport.
I am deeply certain too, that some of them will touch my garments as a sign of holding me back.�There would be a strange feeling in them.�Not seeing my face again is a complete blue to all races!
Some of them I was their brother and they were my sisters. Others I was their son among sons and they were my parents.�But one of them I owe much credit to have been that rib closer to my chest.
Of course, whatever the reason, this dramatic change is a great scenario!
I won't help to cry when I will see them swabbing into my chest, glazing at me desperately and shaking my hand for goodbye.
But I am sure that I have been a great load to some. Around some corners of their state, I have been a subject of debate. I have given them much head-ache.�Both at home and at work, I was there to be looked at and talked about.�"When will you go back home? they could ask."
Time has just come. I am on my way getting ahead. I am sick and tired of those nicknames. There is a strange feeling when I hear those gibberish languages they use against me.�These heavy tongues on me alone are unbearable.�There is no reason to constrain nor having an escape from being a pretender. I could feel it to stay some more days but I can't see it. Nothing has gradually changed; I look forward ever.
If I were asked to go back home and preach to the dead bones like that prophet in the past who revived and quickened the dead bones, I wouldn't go as early as now.
I could take my time to know what I am supposed to do. Skills would be my first target. I could long to be more skilled in building roads and bridges. These would be the sole linkages of tribes to tribes, villages to villages. Roads and Bridges can easily facilitate our development. My grand parents can tell this.
Unfortunately, their bones which lie in the graves can't be made alive. They were those people whose God's mercy can't be upon if God himself wouldn't be compassionate and merciful enough.�They were reprobate who led us into obscurity and division!
But there is still a glimpse of hope in modeling our lifestyles before we embark rapidly into development. The current age is my target.�I have hasted back home to be a role-model to both young and old.�I know where we have been wrong and where we can start to bridge the gap.
Some of our pals made a design of a suit; I have been entitled and requested to sew it.�I won't do that alone.�I will leave another task to my fellows, those remnants to put sleeves.
Some of us have been in religious fields, others in social sciences and a few in literatures.�We ought today to join hands tightly towards a new step. We'd all line-up for a better DRC.�We'll happily chant the victorious national anthem of Grace; clustering together as bees on a tree making honey as a delivered nation.
Peace has been everybody's prayer and aspiration.�We either eat meat or vegetable there, we are marching back courageously.
Here is another angle of my retrospective, "to be indebted but not under credit or theft".
It was my Professor Dr. Carlson, a closer American friend and a missionary in Kenya who once taught me an enigmatic prose.�"If you need to go far, go with people. But if you need to go fast, go alone", he said.�To go alone there is a probability of fainting and collapsing and nobody will be there for your rescue and help.
It's true that I might have been the sole son of my mother alone and away from home. But I wasn't alone. I was with people. I went to exile with pals and they were of a great paramount support. I met people there, and all of them weren't the pharaohs to us. Not all the people we met there were very stitch and not in every land we stepped we sighed bitterly.
As we mingled and got along together, I am grateful for all their friendly supports.�I received moral support from elders, I got spiritual impartation from pastors and that's how life went on. I never made it through alone, I was with people.�Papers obtained from governments have a unique impact within my heart.
Wobbling like balloons around the world, we popped in the southern zone where things have begun to change.�They talk here about a young democracy with young fashions. We were stoutly startled!!!
We were delved into mysterious scenario when they began to officiate pink weddings whereas sex is regarded too as a chess-game.�
�But in these infamous trends, we owed nobody shame.
Now on our way back, as we look behind we are convicted that we owe none moral credit or anything else about finances.�I am indebted but not under credit.�
I have got no credit in any shop to be black-listed, no child left behind (although I need one) who would cry after me and nobody whose flesh will be requesting from me its blood.�I have lived at my very best but I wasn't a saint. I am such a fallible person who does sin and make mistakes of all sorts but I never made these ones. I have tried to acknowledge my poverty and admit my remoteness. I had shunned away my temperature of greediness and immorality. Besides you, the second person who led me through was God.�I am grateful for all your services and have many thanks to God whose loving-kindness endures forever. I will be praying for your own prosperity and health.
Either we'll meet in heaven or on earth again I won't promise. The future is still enigmatic.�I am sure we will meet again. But when Christmas comes, please sing me some Christmas carols.�Bye, cheers.
APPENDIX
In our moments of anxiety, loneliness and xenophobia abroad; there were statements and words that we spoke in regard to our lives in the areas of Religion, Politics, and Economy; and as well as social field.
Here are some of the maxims that we lived for during that dire situation of our wandering around the universe:
1. "Unless you had proved yourself that you were some time wrong, you wouldn't improve that kind of a good person you are today". _ Dadier Malango
2. "You are about to leave an indelible legacy on earth if you have learned to become an ascetic for national awakening and not only for personal benefits."
_ Dadier Malango
3. "If you never dared to hate the person you have been in the past, then you cannot strive towards loving yourself in your actual life." _ Dadier Malango
4. "In a crossroad of political mayhem and economic crisis, try not to take your wheels in a dilemma of cowardice but headlong towards the highway called: Determination".
_ Dadier Malan




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