A Thousand Sisters_ My Journey Into the Worst Place on Earth to Be a Woman - Lisa Shannon [47]
Wandolyn brings Nshobole with her. The baby sits on my lap while her mom talks.
“I was coming from fetching water in the valley when I heard gunshots,” Wandolyn says. “When I got home, men were in the compound. They were Congolese, speaking a local dialect. My husband had been at home with my kids, but they hid on the farm. Tutsi soldiers had invaded Bukavu and Congolese government soldiers retreated here to Walungu.
“I tried to escape, to run, but they caught me and told me to go in the hut. I asked them to enter the house and take what they pleased instead of taking me. They said they would take rabbits and the cassava flour I had just gotten from the mill. They didn’t. They said, ‘From you, we need only yourself.’
“The commander told me to lay down.
“I said, ‘I don’t need to do that.’
“They threw me down and began cutting me. They slapped my ears, so I couldn’t hear. They stabbed one of my buttocks. It was so painful, I cried. They laughed at me and told me they would kill me.”
Wandolyn spaces out, rocking; her breathing is labored. Hortense says, “She’s having emotional flashbacks from reviewing what happened to her. It’s as if this is the first time she has told the story.”
“They laid me down and started to rape me. They used a piece of cloth to wipe. When one finished, he wiped with the same cloth. Then the other would introduce himself. When I cried, they said stabbing my buttocks was nothing compared to what they would do. They told me they would stab me in the neck, they would kill me. I felt dying was better than suffering like this. There were so many, but while I was conscious I only saw three. I lost consciousness.” She folds over, collapsing her head and hands on her knees, crying.
I approach and hug her, interrupting. “You don’t have to talk.”
She sits up and continues, seemingly determined to get it out. “They folded the cloth and passed it, wiping.”
In my best attempt to usher her through the story, I ask, “Did your husband know about what happened?”
“When he came back, he found they had split my legs. I was lying in pain. He knew because he was the one who treated the injury. When I started to tell him, my husband said, ‘Keep quiet. Don’t say more. Don’t tell to anybody. ’ He kept silent.
“It was June. I hid myself until December. I wouldn’t go out. Only my children did housework, went to farm. As days went by, I felt woozy. I would fall down because of the level of infection. My husband pushed me to go to the hospital. I was ashamed to go to the doctor, because it was taboo to speak about rape. After six months, I accepted to go to hospital because my wounds were so infected that flies were getting in the house everywhere.
“The doctor was angry to see they kept me at home so long. The infection was high. A nun stayed close to me, to take care and wash me.
“The day the doctor told me I was pregnant, I felt dying was better than remaining with that pregnancy. When I went into labor, I was revolted.
“I delivered a baby girl. They brought the baby to me. The nun counseled me, ‘The baby is innocent, the baby needs love.’
“I said, ‘Keep it away.’ I didn’t even like to hear about that baby. I didn’t even like to see that baby. I considered it the source of my misery and suffering. I said, ‘I won’t even look at that baby.’
“The next day, the nun asked me to breast-feed. I said there was nothing inside.
“They had to ask other women in maternity to give the baby some milk. After two months, the doctors told me they were tired of asking for milk. They asked me to take the baby. I said no.
“I was worried about my husband, who was sick, who I had been looking after. I was the only one looking after my kids. Now they were suffering from malnutrition because I was in the hospital. The doctor promised to take care of my husband and me.
“The nun sent for my husband. She told him I delivered a baby girl. When my husband heard,