PORTRAITS AND TESTIMONIES
A selection of portraits of Congolese women (and girls) with excerpts from their testimonies*
Micheline Ngoma, 37
"How could anyone possibly enjoy doing this? You can't see anything down there. It's dark and you have to feel for things with your hands. Sometimes, when the tide is low, you can make out a few shadows, which helps. But the worst part is having to hold your breath, going in blind, again and again, into the blackness of the river [Congo].”
Mimy Kuzoma, 40
"Here in Congo, women have the impression that we're somehow inferior to men. Yet, we see in our day to day lives this isn't the case. But that is how men see us and that is one of the biggest issues facing society. We must not allow ourselves to be pushed around; we must fight for our autonomy."
Yollande Yowa Ngoy ("Orakle"), 36
“I was always passionate about defending others, which is why I studied law in the first place. For me, rap and law work hand in hand. Rapping allows me to campaign and champion causes. When I talk about women, I'm raising awareness. When I talk about orphans and street children I do so explaining that they are our orphans and our street children, yet we have a tendency to view them as outsiders -something that should be feared. When I talk about my country, I simply set out the facts; it's up to you to accept them or not.”
Jeanne Khonde-Malonda, 47
"When I was a child, I would have unsettling dreams that I didn't understand. I started going to the Kimbanguist Church and it was there that I came across other people who were able to help me make sense of those dreams. I was 12 years old when I finally understood that I had a gift. Nobody in my family before me had had this gift; there were priests and pastors around me, but I was the first Nganga Nzambe [a spiritual healer, literally 'Healer of God' in the Lingala language]."
Thérèse Izay Kirongozo, 44 (pictured centre)
"I studied industrial electronics because I always found electrical devices fascinating. At primary school I'd spend hours imagining how all the radios in our neighbourhood were able to work at the same time. I received my diploma in industrial electrical engineering, after reading maths and physics after which point I moved into programmable automation. Women's Technology was originally conceived as an association to help women who were struggling to gain work in the industry. In technology, men are prioritised ahead of women, but science has no gender.”
Aicha Misindo, 45
"In Congo, we’re free to practice our Muslim faith without any problems. We live alongside our neighbours, be they Catholic or Kimbanguist, it makes no difference what religion they belong to. Some religious groups stir up conflicts, here in DRC, too, but we must not give in to them. The Koran asks us to stand united, it does not ask us to seek conflicts with others, even if they belong to a different religion. When I see what is happening to our Muslim brothers and sisters in other parts of the world, I feel a great sadness. I pray for them all."
Thérèse Joxellius Kanga, 58
“I’m proud of my Swedish citizenship — a country that values women. Women take centre stage and are equal to men. It was already like that when I arrived in the 80s. I noticed it as soon as I landed, as it was in stark contrast to Congo. In Sweden, men help their wives; they take care of the kids and do their share of the housework. Congolese women are overworked, they do everything themselves. They work the fields and look after the children, without any help from their husbands. When my father is sat outside and needs something, he’ll always ask whatever woman is around to serve him.
My father had two wives. My mother was his first wife, the second arrived when I was two years old. At the beginning, we all lived together under one roof. Later, when my father had more money, he built a home for his second wife. She treated me like her own daughter, she was kind and both she and my mother got on to begin with, but it didn’t last. She had five children with my father, my mother had six. My mother and I have never discussed it.. It was an acceptable thing to do back then in Congo. If you had money, you could marry two or three wives. A man could take several wives, but if a woman did the same, she was an adulteress.”
Octavie Sala, 43
“I wasn’t allowed to attend his funeral, tradition doesn’t allow for it. I wanted to go, but the family forbid it. In our culture, when a wife loses her husband, she isn’t allowed to go to the cemetery. My father-in-law said an evil spirit could possess me if I went and that I wouldn’t be able to cope seeing my husband being lowered into the ground. I insisted, I cried, but I didn’t have a choice. I was told I would be allowed to visit his resting place, a year after his burial. My sons were allowed to attend, but not my daughters. It’s harder for them to accept that their father is dead, it’s difficult for them to grasp. It’s also difficult for me. Sometimes, I have the impression he’s simply away travelling. He was often away for work. But this time, he won’t be coming back.”
Rose Mata, 52
“I don’t have any arms - I was born without them. My parents always supported me, especially my father, he encouraged me and did everything possible to ensure I was able to go to school. I’ve always done everything with my feet: eat, write, draw. I began painting with my feet when I was still in primary school, I was around nine. It was difficult, but I dedicated my entire body and soul in order to excel at drawing and painting. It’s a passion I’ve had since childhood.
I grew up in a village. My art is inspired by nature and everything I see around me.”
Grace Mave, 11
“First they got hold of my father. He was injured, but he didn't die. They slashed his head and his back. Then they caught my mother. They first asked her for money. As she didn't have any, they asked her to sit down and then they cut off her head. After that, they cut her stomach to remove the baby. She was almost full-term. They cut my mother into pieces and threw the baby near her body. Before we could flee into the bushes, they cut off my arm and hit my baby sister across the face with a machete. I could hear the baby cry all day, until suddenly he stopped. I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. The baby died too, in the end. Lots of people died.”
Gueda Wicht, 39
“I grew up in an environment where people would say that, it was all well and good to work and be brilliant at school, but that it was pointless because, in the end, we'd all end up in the kitchen cooking dinner for the men; it was such a revolting prospect. I was so scared to find myself forced to play a role I didn't want that I refused to learn how to cook, unlike the other girls. I didn't want to be that woman that spent her day looking after the household. Aviation was my passion, not cooking.”
Alphonsine Ndjeda (age unknown)
“The Lendus came to my village first, before heading to the neighbouring village, where I’d been seeking shelter. I then fled into the forest, but they found me. Two people attacked me: one with a machete in each hand and the other armed with arrows. One of the arrows narrowly missed my eye, hitting me just below. My arms were hit by the machete. I thought I was going to die. My life was the only thing I escaped with.”
Maguy Kalomba, 38 (pictured left)
“When I first met my husband, I was already an actress. There are few men, like my husband, willing to support a wife’ who chooses to be an actress. It’s not easy for him; when I’m in the middle of rehearsals or a show, I’ll work from morning to night, I don’t have much time for either him or the children. What I really appreciate is the way he understands what I do. But I was always very clear about how important this is for me. Perhaps if I hadn’t fought for it and made it quite so clear, I would have done what many other women do upon marrying and given up on theatre. I am one of the lucky ones.”
‘Maman’ Frenchen, 55
“Sape, which stands for the Society of Ambiance-Makers and Elegant People, is a lifestyle choice. It's about wanting to dress well and in the latest styles. I'm talking about garments that are expensive by European standards, rather than traditional clothing. Sape is a way of making people take notice of you. When you are well-dressed, your transport is covered, your meals are covered, but when you aren't well-dressed, people don't even bother looking at you.”
Maguy Kalomba, 38
“Culture is essential for nourishing the human spirit. When we tackle a play about women, it’s meaningful because we all know the daily struggle that women endure. Women are looking for emancipation, they want to break free from their shackles, they want to take charge and be independent. By passing on such stories, perhaps we’re able to spark a flame of ambition in somebody who didn’t have any, perhaps they’re able to come out of their shell and gain a sense of importance. We do this, despite the fact that hardly any government money goes into promoting our craft.”
Clarisse Matondo, 38
"Despite all the challenges I face, I'm happy. I have my children — my foot soldiers — who protect me. When I'm weak and tired, it will be my children who will help me, and for that alone I'm happy. I still remember what the sky looks like, with its white clouds. And in those clouds, I remember once seeing the form of a woman carrying a baby on her back, followed by a dog. I remember the earth is brown, I remember the stones under my feet, and the stones and sand at the bottom of the water. But there’s also a lot I’ve forgotten. The most precious memory I have, from when I could still see, is of the sun rising and setting.
I would like to be able to see again. I'd like to see everything that God has created: nature, trees, the animals we eat, as well as those we don't. It would make me particularly happy to be able to see my children's faces. Today, I see with my hands. I used to like touching my husband’s face when he was still alive.”
Astrid Soni, 44 (pictured right)
“I don't even know what cobalt is used for, I just know that I can make money from it. That said, we make a pittance compared to the people who buy it from us — they go onto make much more than we do. But if we complain, they chase us away. Sometimes, what we're given barely covers our transport costs to Lubumbashi. On a good week, I might make 30,000 FCA [approximately 20 USD].
Occasionally, my children get involed and help me out with the digging. The water we work in is toxic though, a lot of the women are often sick because of it. But we just get on with it, we support each other and have a giggle, even if the work is difficult.”
Georgette Dimbu, 46 (pictured centre)
“I realised that malnutrition stems from three principle causes. The main cause is ignorance. Here in Muanda, we can find all the produce necessary for a healthy, balanced diet, but people don’t know how to make the most of what we have to hand. The second factor is poverty. Families here have limited income and the soil isn’t very fertile; there’s very little by way of regional agricultural produce. The third factor is inadaptability: most malnourished infants in Congo are not actually starving, they’re just not fed a diet suitable for their young bodies. For many years, while the economy flourished, malnutrition in Africa was alleviated through the import of goods. Everything was imported, milk included. But whenever the economy falters or during times of war, imports are no longer an option. That’s why it’s so important to find local solutions for malnutrition. I worked with a nutritionist to devise a special flour that would address the issue of malnutrition in children.”
Maguy Washilama, 40
“I have a unique style, which is very masculine. I want to look presentable when I’m driving. My car is my office and I need to appear smart and tidy, even if there’s no air con. Very few women dress like men. Some people even think I’m a lesbian, but I tell them it’s about style and has nothing to do with sexuality. I combine my love of sape with my driving; when I’m not working, I’m still a sapeuse. I love jackets, shirts, ties, hats - you name it. Today I was wearing a Borsalino. Dressing like this not only makes me feel great - it always turns a few heads, which I quite like. My husband is used to it; he finds me beautiful just as I am.”
Marie-Chantal Kaninda, 53
“Beyond the issue of conflict diamonds, buyers also want to know that their money benefits the very communities involved in their extraction. But for that to happen, miners need to understand a diamond's real value. Most of them have never seen a polished diamond, much less one mounted onto an item of jewellery; many have no idea what it’s intended for and are therefore not in a position to demand a fair wage. They have no notion of the value of the product they’re extracting."
Marie-Claire Kikontwe, 70
“The Congolese were never properly prepared to assume the roles necessary for independence. Under Mobutu, the system was strong, albeit one-party. There was always much in the way of consultation and dialogue, even for something as simple as nominating a mayor. At the time, we lived in peace; it was possible to walk around the country without issue. The Central Committee was representative of all of Congo’s ethnic forces. Marshal Mobutu was constantly in dialogue with everyone, there was regular community consultation. But, to my mind, he made three fundamental errors: the first was nationalising the Belgian Union Minière, transforming it into Gécamines [in Congo’s mineral-rich Katanga province], without properly preparing for it; the second was his programme of zaïrianisation; and the third was stepping down; he would have been better off reviewing the Constitution.”
Fify Kapalay, 39
"People come to the theatre to be entertained, but they can also find solutions to their problems here. Theatre is like holding up a mirror to society, it is a reflection of humanity on stage. Acting frees people, it makes them stronger, less shy and more courageous. I always wanted to help educate and raise awareness among people. I would often wonder how I could use my voice to achieve that. For me, acting was the best way of fulfilling this wish."
Catherine Mazambi Malenge, 30 (pictured centre)
“Two years ago, my husband was kidnapped and killed, as he was heading to work. The bus he was travelling in was ambushed. They stopped the bus and forced everyone out, making them walk deep into the forest. It was there that they murdered him. I hadn’t been working long as a car mechanic when it happened. But all my colleagues came to my aid. They’ve been there for me and my children since my husband’s death. Today, they’re very much my family.
I like to demonstrate that women are just as capable as men. My dream is to open my own garage specialising in training young women mechanics.”
Amour Lombi, 22
“The film Maki'la, in which I star in the title role, is essentially about Kinshasa, although it bears little resemblance to the city I know. The Kinshasa I grew up in is one where everybody is always available to help one another, where nobody ever dies of hunger. It’s a city that never sleeps. In the film, the tshégues [street kids] are left to fend for themselves. I used to hang out with a few tshégues when I was still a student. At times, they can be frightening, they can be violent even, but it’s just their way of interacting with others. They don’t actually mean any harm, even if they can be intimidating.”
Ange-Pascaline ‘Pacy’ Mpuanga Nzala, 34 (pictured right)
“Wherever you are in Congo, you’re always home. But language is by far the biggest obstacle. I’m always striving to work out what people are saying when they speak in Kikongo. I guess that can sometimes hold me back and act as a barrier between me and the locals. Otherwise, I feel pretty much at home here. I tend to speak in French far too often, which probably doesn’t help.
I don’t think people see me as an outsider though, because I’m comfortable in all contexts. Besides, to be a journalist is to be a chameleon. With the poor,, I’ll show my vulnerable side. With the rich, I’ll be more confident. I fit in wherever I go. At the market, I'm just like any other woman, going there in her slippers, haggling over the price, even if I can afford what they’re asking. Haggling is in my DNA, it’s what we do in Congo. And it’s all the more true given I’m a journalist. I adapt to my surroundings, my trade demands it of me."
Mélanie Mikombe Ntumba, 63
“I built my house in three months. The hardest part was going out in search of wood. I had to walk long distances to reach the forest. When the work became increasingly difficult, I would remind myself of the following saying: ‘To educate a woman is to educate an entire nation.’ Remembering this gave me the strength to continue. Through sheer joy, as well as my refusal to give up, I wanted to show my children what I was capable of, and in so doing, I wanted to show them what they, too, were capable of. I wanted to be an example to them.”
Joséphine Kakule, 28, with baby Bénédicte
“I was seven months pregnant when I realised I was sick. I began coughing blood and was sore in my joints. I was diagnosed at home in Komanda. On receiving the diagnosis, I escaped into the forest. I believed the coughing was related to the pregnancy, I didn’t think it was possible to contract Ebola whilst pregnant.
Anyone infected with Ebola is expected at the specialist treatment centres. As it was, I had the police, Komanda Hospital as well as the ANR [National Intelligence Agency] all looking for me, not least because I had escaped into an armed conflict zone. I knew Ebola was a serious illness, but I also believed what people said about the treatment centres. I had heard that once inside, the sick were not treated, but killed.”
* The opinions expressed in these accounts do not necessarily represent those of the author