What UFAR means to me
by Gery Juleff
My arrival.
My first arrival in what was then Zaire was not auspicious. I was the newly appointed Deputy Head of Mission at the British Embassy. I had had previous postings in Uganda and Burundi, and had visited many other African countries, so I thought that I knew what to expect. I was wrong.
It was the last weeks of the reign of Mobuto Sese Seki, a kleptocrat and dictator who had misruled Zaire for over 30 years, supported by the West. The rebellion that had started in the East was approaching the capital, Kinshasa, and all was chaos. On one of the last commercial flights in, I was met by colleagues from the Embassy who wrestled me through the crowds in the tropical heat and humidity. We were taken to our compound, lying on the banks of the Congo River.
Chaos reigned.
The next few weeks were a blur. UK, US, French and Belgian troops stood by on the other side of the Congo River, 15 miles away. The rebels, led by Kabila and supported by Rwanda, marched steadily West towards Kinshasa. My two main roles were to monitor the political situation and make arrangements for the evacuation of the British and Commonwealth community — some 1,000 people!
In the end, Mobuto fled and Kabila took power without fighting in Kinshasa, so no evacuation ended up being needed.
I stayed in the DRC for the next 2 ½ years, witnessing another rebellion and the beginning of what has been called the ‘Great African War’, lasting for the best part of a decade, involving many of the Congo’s neighbors and resulting in the deaths of over 5 million Congolese, mainly through disease and starvation.
What I learned.
The Congolese, sadly, are used to hardship. Colonized by King Leopold of Belgium, the area now known as the DRC. This beautiful country lost perhaps 1/3 of its population (or 10 million people) in the 35 years before the Belgian state took over control of the territory.
When the DRC finally achieved independence in 1962, they saw their country become a pawn in the Cold War, with the west supporting Mobutu, whose misrule led to a further impoverishment of the Congolese people and the destruction of much of the country’s infrastructure.
And yet. And yet I do not think that I have ever been welcomed quite so warmly, or treated with such courtesy as I was in the Congo.
The suffering of the Congolese has perhaps given DRC residents a resilience beyond my comprehension, an ability to keep on loving, living and laughing that is quite extraordinary. Whether it was the local staff at the Embassy who turned up day after day, despite sometimes having to walk for miles to get there. Or those who worked for non-profits, seeking to help their fellow-Congolese, or the activists who dreamed of a better Congo. Or even those that I met in the bars and nightclubs, and the markets, full of humor and ready to laugh at me (in the nicest way!) and at themselves.
I left the DRC ready to make a difference!
I left the DRC with sadness and, I think, humbled, acutely aware of my good fortune and angry that, in such a rich world, we can treat people as the Congolese have been treated.
I have remained engaged with the DRC, albeit from afar, through my support of a small clinic there. Then I met Dr. Daniel Shungu and I realized that I could do so much more to help the Congolese people by supporting UFAR’s work. It still blows my mind away that this little organization is now treating over 25 million people a year against riverblindness and other neglected tropical diseases.
That is 25 million people potentially saved from debilitating diseases, 25 million Congolese who can be productive and help build their country, saved from the scourge of these diseases. If there is a better use of my time and money, I have yet to find it.
As UFAR enters a time of transition, I am determined to do what I can to ensure that it continues its work. I owe that to Bono, Dieudonne, Charles, Zoe, Olivier, Noel, Bienheureuse, Emmanuelle, Bonheur and all the other Congolese who had made me so welcome and my stay in the DRC so transformative.