A Glimpse of Grace-Struggle and Hope in the Congo | Documentary Video

The Democratic Republic of Congo, beautiful and unspoiled. But within this primitive beauty lies unthinkable hardship by 21st century standards. In fact, some of these pictures and some of these stories are disturbing. The village of Chikaji, population 9,000, is a safe haven in many ways because of a Presbyterian hospital and missionary programs here. Yet homes are huts with dirt floors and walls of sand bricks, with no running water, electricity, or furniture. Livestock roams freely. Villagers eat and cook on the ground outdoors. Women and children carry fresh water in buckets or tubs balanced on their heads a quarter mile uphill every day. People walk everywhere, usually barefoot. The lucky few have a bike, but usually that's used to transport items for sale or barter. In this environment, one-fifth of all children will die before age 5. Malnourishment, unclean water, and poor sanitation have reduced life expectancy to just 48 years of age. Yet the Congolese here are joyful, beautiful people with giving hearts. This film shows Chikaji through the eyes of 12 Americans on a Presbyterian mission trip. They see a glimpse of grace in both the struggle and hope of the Congolese. The Democratic Republic of Congo straddles the equator in Central Africa. Chikaji's in the southwest. Life and death are on simpler terms here. Women wear modest skirts below their knees, sitting on the ground in the market with their goods in front of them. To an American eye, it's perhaps chaotic, but festive. In the midst of extreme poverty, mission worker Mike Clement finds joy.

I haven't met an unhappy person, I don't think, since I've been here, and if I have, it's well hidden.

These Congolese live in the present. Often when families are hungry, they choose to buy food. Putting off medical care until it's too late. Kanku will be permanently scarred. She was bitten on the arm by her brother. Home treatment caused the wound to fester. An OB-GYN from Charlotte, North Carolina had to abandon his American standards. When shadowing a missionary surgeon at the Good Shepherd Hospital in Chikwaji, Dr. Jack Lucas examined a woman with stage 4 inoperable cervical cancer.

I mean, one minute she's here, she's having a little bleeding, a little pain, and within 15 minutes she's been told that she has an inoperable tumor with a prescription for Tylenol for pain and that she should pray, but medicine can't help her, and they're done.

Dr. Lucas wanted to do more.

They reused the dressings and the wrap. This would be sort of a gauze wrap that's got some elasticity.

31-year-old Kabaya told Dr. Jerry Barron, the orthopedic surgeon in the group, that he'd been in this hospital 6 months with a shoulder injury. Dr. Barron told me Kabaya first saw a witch doctor who gave him a poultice that blistered his skin.

We're not going to change the culture. You know, these patients Patients are going to continue to treat traditionally and at home, but when they get to the hospital, we need to do everything we can to make sure we've got clean facilities, that we have the antibiotics available and somehow affordable to them.

Dressings are washed and reused. Kabaya's drinking water is kept in a plastic diesel oil jug. It's an open-air room with a mosquito net and rusty bed. By Congo standards, this is the best facility around, kept open through Presbyterian donations. Surgeons scrub with the brown water straight out of the Luby River. There is a sterilization process, drip by drip, to produce water for IVs. Surgical gloves are so precious, they're washed and reused. General anesthesia is not wasted on procedures like this hernia operation. She has a local and is wide awake, smiling actually, because she's so thankful to get the operation. The scarcity of supplies poses a danger. Doctors operated on this newborn's stomach using outdated surgical sutures, which dissolved. The infant had to have another operation. And when Dr. Barron looked at the supplies, he found sutures more than a decade old.

These are a couple more suture packs, and you can't see it, it's stamped into the packaging. This suture here expired in November of 2001, and this suture here expired in 1998.

A nearby hospital in the village of Lubanda uses a pressure cooker to sterilize surgical instruments. A skeletal woman with tuberculosis rests on the bare cement floor. This hospital and the Good Shepherd Hospital are both part of the IMCK, a Presbyterian health organization in this part of the Congo. They provide some of the best medical care in the country, training Dr. Blaise Dandou and his staff. They've learned to do the best they can with what they have. This surgical drape's been used so many times there's a hole in it, but it's clean and serving its purpose. The open-air operating room has bugs on the windowsill. A visiting surgeon from Atlanta, Dr. John Kennedy, says it took some getting used to.

You have to be prepared for doing things in a different way here. But I guess the surprising thing is a lot of these patients get better with conditions that I think the doctors in the States would be shocked that anyone can get better here, and they do.

What's desperately needed here Among the supplies are antibiotics, dressings they can reuse, and doctors willing to come train Congolese staff in the latest medical advances.

I'm very happy with the, the Mayo Clinic team, not just for the supply that they gave to us, but also for their I think it's the same in English, for their expect— expectees, yes, for their expectees.

Another building at Good Shepherd Hospital is for children, many malnourished, some alone and sleeping on the floor. There aren't enough mattresses.

Okay?

Midge Barron, a nurse in the group, tried to communicate with this child, but he didn't respond.

When you suffer from malnutrition, you also suffer from It's kind of a failure to thrive, and he has no energy, and he's not stimulated, no one's around him, and so he just kind of withdraws.

And we saw even more extreme cases of malnutrition. This little boy is 3 years old. He's been in this hospital more than once for malnutrition, and his skin is so thin. His skin is light-colored because his skin has actually sloughed off because he hasn't had enough to eat. And they don't know if he'll survive. Is there anything else we can do for him? Is there anything else we can do for him, for this child?

We can do some things.

We can give him some milk from the hospital.

After that, we have no other way.

Milk is the only treatment for Lukenu, who was weaned too soon. His teenage mother got pregnant after he was born. His baby sister got the milk. Lukenu also has tuberculosis. The day after we met him, he died. This 2-year-old girl is running a high fever. The early diagnosis, besides malnutrition, is malaria. Musumbayi's arms and legs are pencil thin. She cannot stand to be moved. In the midst of these heartbreaking cases, there is hope. Around the corner from the hospital is a nutrition rehabilitation center serving. It saves hundreds of malnourished children every year. At home, Congolese children only eat one meal a day in the evening so they'll be able to sleep. It was not enough for Kankulongo, whose malnutrition caused lesions on his scalp. While here in the nutrition center, he'll get 5 meals every day until he's well enough to leave. Presbyterian volunteer Barb Lucas noticed this A 7-year-old boy patiently standing by himself. Makola had been hungry so long, it was difficult for him to eat without gagging.

He didn't have anybody with him. He was just standing here so patiently, and it just— then when I realized he was an orphan, then it made me realize that he's kind of on his own.

His 13-year-old sister brought him to the nutrition center. She already has a baby of her own. Other physical signs of malnutrition here are lighter-colored straight hair and distended stomachs. When a new child comes in, they measure his height, weight, and the circumference of his arms. This child is in the severely malnourished category. The mission workers do not want to give the Congolese a handout. Instead, they strive to make them self-sufficient. And one way they're able to improve their diet is with the green powder sprinkled on top of the cereal. It comes from the moringa tree. A seedling will grow to maturity in just 9 months under the African sun. Moringa leaves are dried, then pounded into a powder high in protein and other nutrients. And it is dramatically improving the high-starch Congolese diet. And though simple survival has been a struggle— Children here are thrilled with American bubbles, Simple, delightful pleasure. In the same courtyard, 2 times a month, village indigents— widows, orphans, and the handicapped— wait for a handout of basics, some food and household supplies, It's organized by the Chikaji Congolese but paid for through Presbyterian donations. So every month what they buy varies according to price, and this is what they have this month. Everybody's going to get some rice. They'll also get some corn flour. This is palm oil, which they use to cook with. This is fish and tomato paste. Everyone also gets a bar of soap and If you look behind me, that's some salt. It's not enough to keep them from hunger, but Nancy Hanniger, a missionary with 8 years here, says it's a comfort.

So it provides them a little glimmer of hope. It lets them know they're not forgotten.

This woman is preparing a meal of manioc, a woody shrub that must be soaked 2 or 3 days to reduce the cyanide content. The bark is stripped and discarded. The manioc is dried, then pounded into a powder and mixed with water. Women do most of the work. Over a lifetime, 1 in 16 will die due to pregnancy. Patriarchal traditions still stand, and widely there is much violence against women. Hopefully this thought will begin to seep into the culture. The sign in French and Chaluba means violence against women is unacceptable. Perhaps a woman's financial stability will begin to change things. The Chikaji Women's Development Project teaches micro-enterprise skills like soap-making. The lye-rich ingredients are mixed on the ground, then poured into a wooden frame to dry. Women here also learn to read, some basic math, Next door, a sewing school started by the charity Rivers of the World gives rape victims and vulnerable single women a skill, and with that, a new chance at life. Fighting a rapist is a catch-22 for Congolese women. The culture blames the victim, But a girl cannot resist if she values her life. Afterwards, she's shunned by her family and village. But again, this sewing school is transformative. Learning a useful trade gives them personal worth and status in the village. Women like 28-year-old Kankona, whose husband left her when she was pregnant, will make enough money to feed her 18-month-old child, pay for healthcare, and her child's education. She gets lessons and a sewing machine to take home. School costs $1 a month. There is no public school in this part of the Congo. Children aged 6 to 14 march and sing at Chitalala School. But 70% of the children's parents cannot afford school. Those children watch from the sidelines while the schoolchildren perform for visitors. Myers Park Presbyterian Church in Charlotte built this school with a $15,000 donation. First graders at Chitalala are still outdoors in a shem school without walls and a palm leaf roof, but the older children learn where it's dry indoors. Here's another glimpse of grace— children thrilled with the privilege of an education. Children who think a new soccer ball to share is the ultimate gift. Oftentimes, boys' education is a priority in the Congo, but studies show educating a girl produces broader social change, less female victimization, Lower infant mortality, better prenatal and child care. 9-year-old Milan, so shy her hand covers her smile, hopes for an education.

She wanted to come to school to learn to read and write because she ultimately has a dream to be a nurse. And in being a nurse, it gives her an opportunity to serve.

There is higher education, too. These IMCK nursing students study for finals. Later on Sunday, they'll go to the front of their church with their parents to pray for their exams. It's a group prayer with dozens of voices murmuring at once. Some cry. It's an honor and privilege to have this education. And it will be life-changing for the women especially. But this church service does not stay low-key for long. This joyful noise comes from wooden electric guitars. and handmade drums. Children walk up the aisle to give an offering first, followed by men, then finally women, dancing as they go. Later at a Bible study, children will pose for a photograph. Well, this is special because a lot of the children have never seen a picture of themselves. Hi, bonjour!

Hello!

The Congolese in Chikaji are friendly, appreciating relationships and friendship. They're incredibly patient to an American eye. Are you hungry?

Yes.

Interestingly, people who've been treated in the hospital must remain there until their bill is paid. One child has spent a third of his life in the hospital.

So this sweet little boy has no money and he's He's been waiting for 6 months to go home, and until his family comes up with money, he waits here.

The mission workers observe these Congolese rarely throwing anything away. Consequently, a storeroom at Good Shepherd Hospital holds hundreds, perhaps thousands, of donated items they will never use. Dozens and dozens of old barrels with who knows what inside. An outdated hip replacement kit for a hospital that will never do a hip replacement. Clunky old Fahrenheit thermometers, where nurses read Celsius, require batteries they'll never have. Somebody called the worthless donations junk for Jesus. Unfortunately, the outdated, unusable supplies just take up space and make the worthwhile provisions difficult to find.

What we're trying to do is make a list of supplies you really do need and can use. for all the churches in the U.S. When they send supplies, it's something that's actually beneficial.

Another of the mission workers is trying to streamline the hospital's personnel practices. It's so in debt, Dr. Nandu and his staff haven't been paid in 7 months.

For them, lots of activity is very normal, so we have meetings with one person, but they'll invite 3 more people. And then during the meeting, other people will just stop by. They'll come in and join the meeting. They'll come in and ask questions. They'll come in and need something signed. So this whole kind of atmosphere of, it's, you know, it's not so structured. It's very much a relationship.

But some Congolese culture and patriarchal traditions The conditions here are cruel. This is the fistula ward at Good Shepherd Hospital. Some of the very young girls were sold into prostitution by their families. Some got pregnant before their bodies were capable of delivering a baby. Others had a prolonged labor without medical care. All have holes ripped in their urinary tracts or colons. Each has been leaking urine or feces for years.

Each ostracized.

I'm not a prostitute. and forced to live alone.

One of the issues that is very important to understand about these ladies is they're women with no power. They've never had a choice in their life. They labored forever. They had no ability to make a choice to go to a hospital. They're, they're not valued by anybody. They have no control.

This teenager says her husband died after 2 days of untreated diarrhea. Mufampa was alone during her prolonged delivery. Her baby died, her body was torn, and she had nowhere to go.

They soil everything and they smell horrible, and so nobody wants them.

In the clinic, they sleep on garbage bags to keep from soiling their mattresses. One woman spent her savings on an operation by an untrained physician who botched the surgery. Dr. Haniger sees it frequently.

And at that point they have no money. That's already been taken by the other doctor. Good Shepherd Hospital provides care and often gets no payment. And again, this is another example. Unless we have subsidy, we can't do this. The hospital is on the verge of bankruptcy all the time. We're short on medicines. And yet we still take care of people.

Through donations, these women have a $240 surgical room It is another glimpse of grace in the Congo. Down the hall, in the neonatal intensive care, 2.5-pound Pemba sleeps under the shattered glass of an old incubator. Medicines sit out on a broken plywood shelf. Interestingly, this hospital does not focus much on HIV infections, which are down to just 1.6% of the people now. No one is sure why. In the Congo, condoms are of little use except with prostitutes. Polygamy is the major spreader of AIDS. While some efforts help heal past wrongs, other efforts in the Congo look to the future. The mission workers see village health records handwritten on the walls. A community health program provides well care and vaccinations for babies through age 5, for just 50 cents. Mothers and their breastfeeding babies cram onto the front porch of the village health center.

This happens to be vaccination day. However, they also do births, they do prenatal care, they have 2 midwives on staff.

Fighting future disease and hunger begins with education. In an open-air classroom in Chikaji, farmers learn better agricultural practices. It's labor-intensive work, clearing away the jungle by hand. In their native language of Chaluba, a man explains the necessity.

For to fight against hungry and to help their children to study.

To fight hunger and to pay for school. In Chikaji, villagers have begun to store grain for planting instead of eating it all and having to buy at high prices. It's a huge step planning ahead. New ways to grow food. New ways to prevent disease. New ways to live that don't discriminate against women. There are so many ways for people of the world, people like you, to make a small contribution with huge impact. Be it medical supplies, something as small as 50 cents for vaccinations, or a dollar a month for school.

Yay, we got a dog!

$80 to feed a starving child in the nutrition center. $240 allows a girl with a fistula to hold her head up and return home again. $10 buys a family a moringa tree. Your best contribution may be just a visit. And an empathetic friendship. The Congolese, a people rich with joy and simplicity, struggle against the hardships in their lives. But there is hope, and through you, a glimpse of grace. I'm loving this music. I need it bad.

I'm loving this.