by Kathryn Badalich
As I open “Whatsapp” this morning, a stream of photos and video clips from Gemena await to be downloaded. Sometimes the news is good, like when the 6th graders passed their exit exams, and sometimes it’s distressing, like when I witnessed beloved 11-year-old Sophia as she succumbed to meningitis. This news, good and bad, comes from Sabuli Children’s Center, the orphanage Sabuli founded 10 years ago.
Now we’re in the midst of a global pandemic. In the USA, we’re focused on physical distancing, masks, and other efforts to protect ourselves and each other. We’ve just been advised by the CDC to cancel Thanksgiving Dinner plans with extended family, given the spike in COVID-19 cases across the country. We’re in a liminal space where we yearn for what was and have an uneasy feeling about what will be––a new normal. We know we cannot go back to the old, and find ourselves in a strange state of both hope and dread about what kind of “new” will emerge.
Yet as I download these images I see Congolese villagers singing and celebrating at the Mombongo River in a tightly knit group of hundreds. These villagers are confident that they have been spared by this killer disease. The number of COVID cases in the Democratic Republic of Congo is less than 12,000, a fraction of the 12 million in the USA. Their number of deaths is 327. Ours is 250,000. My Congolese friends confirm that there are no cases in Gemena, a village of 120,000. It’s an open question whether Congo’s “miraculous” numbers are due to lack of testing for the virus or something else.
Today Gemena villagers are exuberant. This pours out through their vibrant song and expressive dance as they celebrate the baptisms of eight of Sabuli’s rescued children, among others. These eight are teens who were rescued years ago as toddlers. As Sabuli reminds me, they are mature enough to receive this sacrament with full awareness of its spiritual implications. And true to the Greek origin of the word “baptizein”, which does not mean “sprinkle” or “pour” but literally means to “dip” or “immerse,” each teen is fully immersed under the murky water of the Mombongo River to symbolize the burial and resurrection; as they rise to a new life, drawing a new breath of a grace. This is their personal testimony and marks a new identity in Christ Jesus.
It appears that the entire village has spilled out of their mud brick homes to witness this monumental event on the banks of the small Mombongo River, a river that is the lifeblood of the village. The Mombongo is where women and girls collect water daily for drinking, cooking, and hygiene. It’s where bathing takes place, laundry is done, produce is washed, friendships are formed and maintained, stories are told, and news is shared.
This pooled part of the river with its murky water that sometimes breeds serious illness, is, today, life-giving water. Today the Mombongo River is serving its community with a sacred gift of new life for these eight teens, rescued from the streets on Congo. Today, these turbid waters are a place of cleansing as in 1 Peter 3:21–“…and this water symbolizes baptism that now saves you also––not the removal of dirt from the body but the pledge of a clear conscience toward God. It saves you by the resurrection of Jesus Christ.”
“Kobokolo mean zeal moo na mboka mbimba”. Though we’ve heard it many times, it takes a village to raise a child, is a lasting and practical truth. Singing, dancing and tears of joy continue all afternoon, in the water and out, with the large village family squeezing onto the small bridge over this part of the river that connects the orphanage in the Bokonzo area to the main part of the village where the central market sprawls over dozens of blocks. This occasion is transformational in the lives of these soon-to-be adults as they enter into a new phase of life at a challenging moment in a challenging environment. Through this ceremony, with the whole village bearing witness, they are signifying their readiness to follow the will and wear the armor of God as they navigate young adult life in one of the poorest regions of the world.
©2020 This is an excerpt from K. Badalich’s upcoming book, “Congo Village Stories”.