bringing dinner back

“There are people in the world so hungry that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.” — Mahatma Gandhi

I first met Gorethy Nabushosi, founder of Congo Restoration, over hot tea at a La Madeleine up in McKinney, a drive from near downtown Dallas I wouldn’t usually be too thrilled about making. I hate suburbs. I hate driving outside “the loop.” But a friend from UMCOR (the United Methodist Committee on Relief) had emailed — including photos of orphans in the Democratic Republic of Congo — and wanted me to connect with her.

Gorethy Nabushoshi, founder of Congo Restoration

So there I was. When she walked into the room, I was hooked. When she started talking — her beautiful Congolese accent a mix of Africa and Europe, of worry and hope and passion — I was mesmerized.

And still am.

We have worked together for a few months now but never shared a meal (except for the hot tea at La Madeleine). I’d heard about and met many of her children and looked forward to an opportunity to get to know them better. So right before Christmas, we shared a meal and heard more about their story.

Gorethy was an attorney back in the DRC. She became interested in women’s rights in a country where women have very few. When she fled Congo more than a decade ago, she could’ve never known the role women’s rights — or the lack thereof — would play in the war that has plagued her country. Rape is the weapon of choice in this war. The United Nations Human Rights calls the DRC the “the epicentre of sexual violence against women today.”

When she, her husband and six children fled Congo, they went to Cameroon. She came to the United States, got her asylee status (taking 1 1/2 years), then her family followed. Her husband — who spoke three languages but not English — landed in New York City, bought bus tickets for the lot of them, then his wallet was lost or stolen. He and the children, ages 5 to 12, traveled for two days with no money and no food. He a trained pharmacist, she an attorney, they have very little here as their years of education mean nothing.

She got a call from a friend back in the DRC about a year ago. Please come and help, her friend said. So she did. She went to a hospital that treats rape victims. Helping women was her background, so she assumed this would be how she would help her country. But the women wanted to know about their children, children who had been left behind when their fathers were killed and their mothers were raped. When Gorethy arrived at the village, locals brought out hundreds of orphans. She took in 30, rented a house, found people to help there, and returned home to her family. For the past year, she spends most of her energy trying to help these 30 children and — when she can allow herself a moment to look at the bigger picture — helping put her country back together.

Bachishoga Maheshe, 6

Bachishoga Maheshe is one of the children at the orphanage. He’s 6. His parents were rounded up and shot by rebels. Three days later, he was found under his bed still hiding.

Marlene Nsimire, who is 3, also lives at the orphanage. Marlene was raised without a father and her mother turned to prostitution before being captured by rebels.

Marlene Nsimire, 3

She was held as a sex slave until she was killed.

One day last month, I posted Marlene’s photo on my Facebook page, trying to help Gorethy get sponsors for these children. A Facebook and real-life friend Robyn immediately posted that she’d like to help. A typical poor college student, she said what she’d really like to do is adopt Marlene. Since she couldn’t do that, would $10 a month help?

Although Gorethy and Robyn are incredibly different — Gorethy a middle-aged Pentecostal woman from Africa with seemingly unshakable faith; Robyn a liberal atheistic college student whose world includes very little gray — I wanted the two to meet. I thought Gorethy might enjoy meeting someone who was so moved by what she was doing. I thought Robyn, a young woman who will no doubt do amazing things in this world, might want to meet someone who was already doing so.

And so, our second African feast was planned.

Gorethy brought her husband, Bona, five of her six children, and a traditional dish of tilapia, rice and vegetables. Robyn brought her parents and the most beautiful and divine chocolate cake I’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying. We prepared two African soups, had some wine and African red bush tea on hand, and ciabatta bread.

Robyn's chocolate Guinness cake

I put the boys in charge of decorating the table. They decided candles, African statues, and angels were appropriate. We barely fit around two tables pushed together. Every chair and every leg touched the next. We heard the story of their journey to America. We enjoyed the food everyone brought together (they  enjoyed the ciabatta so much we sent the rest home with them). Later we sat by the fire (her children gathered around, fascinated by the process of starting a fire indoors) while Robyn made plans with Gorethy to make blankets for each of the orphans.

My faith lies somewhere in between that of Gorethy and that of Robyn. But — full of soup, bread and tilapia; high on chocolate and Africa — I felt something very God-like in my living room that night. I know those orphans see God in Gorethy, the woman who brings them bread and so much more. And they will again see God when she brings them the blankets that Robyn makes. Oftentimes, I think our souls are just as hungry as these children in the Congo. But on this night, mine was bursting.