Belvanie once told me, “If you can’t love me, no one else can”. It was a cold shower: it meant that what seemed to me to be small, insignificant things meant everything to her. Schooling and basic literacy took a back seat. A 19-year-old girl with a significant cognitive disability made me understand that she had suffered something we are not allowed to know, that she was stripping herself of every protective wall and that something more was needed.
It is Emanuela Posa, 26 years old, who introduced us to Belvanie and, with her, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), “still suffering from the terrible civil war that ended twenty years ago”. More than half the size of Europe, rich in raw materials and with an equatorial forest that is the second largest in the world, the DRC has “a GDP that ranks last in the world and is 175th according to the human development index which crosses data relating to life expectancy, per capita GDP and literacy”. Emanuela grew up in Villa d’Adda in the province of Bergamo, with four brothers, the last of whom, Andrea, was adopted from a family home that welcomes children with very serious disabilities. After finishing school (“an ordeal”), he worked for 4 years in a pet shop but “I couldn’t do it…I had to stay outside in the open air”. Today Emanuela walks an average of 10-15 kilometers a day and is happy.
How did you get to Kinshasa?
I had my first international volunteering experience in Zambia in 2016. A month and a half with the Caritas project in Milan. When I returned, I realized that I wanted to continue but time passed and I was restless. In 2018 I spoke with some friends from an association of street clowns like me, who had been in the DRC: they were looking for volunteers willing to stay for a long time. The next day I wrote that I wanted to leave. So after the interviews, the necessary assessments and the drafting of the project, in March 2019 I left for Kimbondo pediatrics in Kinshasa, the capital, where, together with the hospital, 550 orphaned children are hosted. At the end of the three months foreseen, the association called me: they needed a person to coordinate Casa Patrick which hosts around a hundred children and young people with disabilities. In a nanosecond I accepted. After a break in Italy, I returned with a contract. Unfortunately, we had to return earlier than expected due to the pandemic. Then in March 2021, I returned with moninga, another NGO, which asked me to coordinate new projects for children with disabilities.
Who did you meet at Casa Patrik?
Besides Belvanie, The person who made me understand that I was in the right place was Sahori, an autistic girl. She expressed herself with gestures, the sounds she made were sometimes disturbing. She scratched herself, was also violent towards others, which is why she was often left alone, dirty. Between slaps, hair pulling and more, we came together. One day she surprised me by trying to call me: she wanted a banana for a snack, but then she decided to share it with another girl in the ward. We had invented signs to communicate. The bone became so strong that when I left she started to let herself go, refusing food: she got sick and died. My life changed with our friendship: she gave it meaning.
What is the condition of the people with disabilities in the DRC?
Disability is a “taboo”. We talk about ndoki, a term that brings evil spirits that are believed to possess the disabled person, devoid of value and dignity. One day a week we go house to house to look for children who live hidden and segregated. When they have to go out they are covered with sheets, like corpses. The first approaches with the family are always difficult, little by little we establish a relationship. Today the children enrolled in school (the main one of the projects i coordinate) have gone from 15 to 72! Also because the school is completely free, offers a complete meal thanks to private donations. And we hope to be able to create a home for around 15 adults with disabilities who are left alone, for a future after us also in Kinshasa.
No possibility, therefore, of care and education?
Public healthcare is only for the rich. The only other special school in Kinshasa (which has 50 million inhabitants) is private: it costs 10 times the average family income. What family members usually do is turn to the sorcerer in question, paying a lot of money, to try to eradicate the spirit that is affecting the child; there are practices that are not only useless but often very violent, at the end of which there is abandonment. This is why it is important to do training. We have recently started a medical center dedicated to the diagnosis, treatment and rehabilitation of cerebral palsy: the first 12 children arriving already represent a big step. The familie finally collaborated, they formed a community with each other, they seem to have overcome the shame.
What about girls with disabilities?
If disability is a taboo, being a taboo as a woman is a real condemnation. There is a very high risk that they will go to the streets and end up victims of violence, as happened to Petronelle, a 25-year-old with a cognitive disability, who became pregnant after a rape. When the time came for the birth, she didn’t let anyone near her. I had known her for a while and she finally told me “I’m scared”. Following the remote instructions of the doctor and midwife, in ten minutes I found a little girl in my hands! Now I am the godmother of little Lela, who is 2 years old and does not seem to have any cognitive problems. We try to help girls discover other possibilities, learn to dream, be amazed. For this reason, among the projects there is that of a shelter for 10 young women recovered from the streets.
What part did God have in all this?
In 2018 I was in a lot of pain, my relationship with God had crumbled: once the first opportunity to leave vanished, I never set foot in church again. I come from a scout background and a lot of oratory: I felt very bad about it. After a few months in the DRC, shortly before the Easter vigil, a Muslim friend (who knew nothing about what I was going through), told me that JEsus had died for me and that he would be ready to take on my pain too. That evening I went to the vigil and suddenly the unveiling of the crucifix relieved me of all my suffering and forgave my lack of trust. I felt part of something bigger, even in cherishing the stories that are told to me.
And your brother Andrea’s part?
The main one: he is the forerunner. He made me experience how much the life of someone like him can change with the right help. He changed everything.
Translation from Italian to English by Jenna DePasquale on the initiative of the “Italian 251: Composition & Conversation II” course taught by Nives Valli using the Service-Learning pedagogical approach at John Felice Rome Center della Loyola University Chicago.
