You Can Be the Change

I've seen and met angels wearing the disguise of ordinary people living ordinary lives. ~ Tracy Chapman


I was flipping through my journal from my African Adventures last night and realized that the incident in DR Congo took place about a year ago. You can see my January 6th entry for the beginning of that story. I would like to tell you the rest of that tale now though.

Believe it or not, Elizabeth and I went to bed soon after the crowd dispersed. She insisted that I stay in her room and take the bed that had a mosquito net. She would sleep on the couch. I tried to talk her out of it since I was the one on malaria tablets but she would have none of it. As I lay wide-awake on the bed, I could hear Elizabeth’s breathing indicate she was fast asleep. The hotel was secure and well fortified and so we were safe but the images of the angry mob ran through my head. I knew too that we would face the consequences of their actions in the morning when the army returned to the village. I could hear the owner of the hotel pacing in the room above me. Earlier he had gone up to the top floor to shoot off the odd round of bullets to keep the crowds from vandalizing the hotel. It was early in the morning when I heard his mobile phone ring and I strained to hear his voice but could not. I did hear him leave in his vehicle minutes later. I had heard other cars leaving the compound throughout the night. I wondered if Elizabeth and I were now the only ones left in the hotel.

Elizabeth awoke at one point and prayed. She began in Kiswahili but switched to English at one point. Though she had been a rock in front of me, she had assumed I was asleep and would not hear her fear and anguish. My own worries increased. Sleep did find me eventually though, sometime after 5:00 a.m. I awoke at 7:30, startled, knowing that something had alerted me to a danger but not sure what. An eerie silence hung in the air. Slipping out from under the mosquito net, I crept towards the living room area. Elizabeth was standing near the window that had a black film over it so people could not see in, though we could still see out. Our eyes met briefly and then I followed her gaze to the scene outside. Right under our balcony stood a soldier, holding a gun to the head of a youth, he was yelling to grab three or four more young men and shoot them on the spot as a warning to the villagers that the destruction of the night before was unacceptable. I froze. My mind flashed forward involuntarily at what I was about to see up close. Horror set in.

Then, to my amazement, Elizabeth, who was Congolese and fluent in the local language, slipped out onto our balcony and did the unthinkable. Selflessly, she called quietly down to the solider issuing commands, and talked him out of committing such violence. She was quick, but convincing, and then as silently as she had gone, she slipped back in. She had risked her own life to save that young man’s. Within minutes, the army had released all the young people and left. She had averted a tragedy. She had been an angel to that town. She was a peace practioner who now had lived the theory. I had been a witness to an action I had only read about up to that point.

The incident did not end there. The violence continued throughout the day. Police and army members took turns returning to the town and firing into the crowds while children with stones threw rocks back at them. I sat with the Quaker partners who had come to check up on us, watching the violence, occasionally taking refuge in a corner of the room where there were no windows when gunfire seemed to be at its worst. At one point, the owner of the hotel came back and the governor arrived at the hotel moments later, escorted by troops. The partners and Elizabeth decided that this lull in the violence would be the perfect time for me to return to Burundi. One of the men accompanied me out of the country. The violence continued for the next two days. In the end, the news report stated there were no fatalities, and only about half a dozen people were injured. I know for certain that the outcome had to do with Elizabeth’s brave and self-sacrificing act.

Now whenever I hear someone say that one person cannot make a difference, I balk. One person can change the course of events if they step out in faith. Nothing will ever make me believe differently. If you want to read more about my African Adventures, you can visit suzanneinafrica.blogspot.com and have a peek.

Peace,

Suzanne