In a hushed panicked voice, I closed my eyes, and whispered quickly, “Please give them peace.  Let them understand each other.  Please give them peace.  Let them understand each other.  Please give them peace…”  At the U.N.‘s 55th Commission on the Status of Women, multilingual malice shot through the room.  I could not understand anything.  My head was spinning.  Rose was crying. The directors had stiff shoulders.  Women against woman.  One shouted in the microphone letting spit shower the metal piece. 

On March 1st, 2011, the Permanent Mission of Hungary to the U. N. and U.N. Women in New York City co-hosted the screening of the documentary, Pushing The Elephant in honor of the occasion of the annual U.N. Commission on the Status of Women, followed by a Q. and A. with the directors, Beth Davenport and Elizabeth Mandel, and the film’s protagonist, Rose Mapendo.  Mapendo, an Banyamulenge Tutsi human rights activist from DR Congo, sat under the watchful fiery eyes of fuming Congolese women spiteful of her self-proclaimed identity.  The rivalry spat fire and I sat in the middle…  I am just an intern.  This is what I saw, but there was so much I did not understand.

Formerly Rwandan, the Banyamulenge Tutsi have been living in Congo for over a hundred years, and most consider themselves Congolese, yet many Congolese fail to see them as their own.  While the roots of violence in Congo are too complex to address here, identity issues are among those roots, and have led to discrimination, war, genocide, and death camps… Enemies.  Let’s just say, when the Q and A opened up between the Congolese women and Mapendo… things got heated.

The Congolese women arrived at the screening expecting to see a woman they considered to be one of their own with a story they could relate to and were instead greeted with a documentary on the trials and deprivation of a woman on the other side of the battlefield.  The Banyamulenge have recently broken out in violent rebellion and have created horror stories as well.  Feeling vilified, these women waited through the hour-long screening marinating in anger before opening their mouths to speak.

Verbal abuse flew through the air.  With tissues in hand, Mapendo tried to drive the conversation toward all Congolese women’s empowerment and away from her ethnicity, where her people were from, the length of her nose (often used to determine who is Tutsi)... or in American terms, ironically, “the color of [her] skin.”

A woman retorted shouting, “You’re supposed to be a strong woman, why are you crying then? Stop crying!”

Another asked, “Of all the stories you could tell, why did you choose hers?”  This seemed like a fair question to ask the filmmakers, but it was said in fury.  With the trials that non-Banyamulenge Congolese women have experienced from the rebellion, she meant, “Why did you tell hers, and not mine? Why not ours?”  The wall between Congolese women based on their ancestral background has gotten so tall, they can hardly see each other.

A woman yelled at Mapendo, “Why don’t you speak a language we can understand?”  Being ignorant of the current dynamics of Congolese people, I thought she was only expressing the frustration of not being able to understand fully what was going on during the discussion.  What she was really saying with hostility, “Why don’t you speak our language?  Oh right, you can’t, because you’re not Congolese.  I’m leaving!”

Mapendo snapped, “I can speak five languages, including all the ones you can understand!  Sit back down!”  Amazingly enough they did.

Despite the event being associated with the United Nations, we had not considered hiring translators, obviously a mistake.  The only person who understood all the languages being spoken—French, English, and an array of Congolese languages, was Mapendo.  Luckily, a gracious woman, Morag Hill, volunteered to translate English and French. Mean while, Mapendo attempted to answer questions and translate from the Congolese languages at the same time, which were often insults.  It took us a while to get a hang of a system, translating after paragraphs of often, rants, or entire questions and then summarizing.  Some of the English speakers became frustrated as well.  Not being part of the rivalry, one reporter actually suggested more frequent translations deeming it, otherwise, a waste of time.  With the languages and incomprehensible words, characters, and sounds being pitched from one end of the room to the other over our heads, like a relentless game of monkey in the middle, the tension only grew. 

I didn’t know what else I could do.  I began to pray under my breath requesting for our peace and understanding.  It felt as if a higher power was driving my wispy words, but assuming that any civility, which later occurred, was still surrounded by resentment, I thought it was nothing.

It was not until after the event that it was explained to me what had happened.  It did not end in bitterness, but resolution.

An eloquent French-speaking woman, a high-ranking diplomat from the DR Congo’s Mission to the U.N., requested Hill to translate after every sentence, instead of after she’d said her piece.  She patiently paused between phrases allowing her whole idea to come across to the French and English speakers smoothly. She first thanked “Mama Mapendo,” which is what Rose had become referred to throughout the afternoon. She appreciated her story and was thankful of her survival through the turmoil and her works as an activist, but she really wanted to take the mic to clear the air and explain the tension in the room.  This was for all to hear. 

She said that the anger was caused by Mama Rose bringing up the Congolese-Banyamulenge topic, a delicate issue, and was not personal.  Even Mama Rose began laughing and nodding her head in acknowledgment of having incited the tension.  With this in mind we were able to discuss the real problem.

Banyamulenge or not, the Congo is not a safe place to be a woman. This is what Mapendo wanted to discuss: not their differences, but their commonalities, and what they could do to make a difference.

The event ended with smiling, laughter, embraces, exchanging of phone numbers, and even pictures taken between all the Congolese women, including Mama Mapendo.  She said it was one of the most important days of her life.  The March 1st, 2011 screening and Q and A of Pushing The Elephant was one of the rare occasions where Congolese women of different ancestral backgrounds participated in an open discussion and united.  This is the first step on the road to peace and reconciliation.  Rose Mapendo said, “One person alone cannot push an elephant, but many people together can…”

- Audrey Chow, Arts Engine

The national broadcast of Pushing The Elephant will air
Tuesday, March 29, 2011 at 10pm
PBS: Independent Lens

Check your local listings here:
http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/broadcast.html