Judith and I are in our 9th year of treating malnourished children, here in the rainforest town of Basankusu. It's tough going: extreme heat, having to watch some children decline and die. Even though we've saved the lives of over 5,000 children, we've seen over 100 deaths. Donations are extremely hard to come by and so we live a frugal life. No car, I walk most places. My nails, lashes, and eyebrows are my own, no tattoos. No designer this that and the other, we often wear the clothes you gave to the charity shop.
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| Marie - interested in horizons new |
So, between the serious bits, like trying to get a blood transfusion at midnight, for a 3 year old, we try to have a bit of fun. Sometimes I post light-hearted things on here. It helps engage with potential donors. And it's fun. It lifts our spirits.
Yesterday, Marie, my niece through marriage, moved in with Letie at the new malnutrition centre. She's helping with general chores. She's 18 and very pleased when people compliment her looks. Like many girls with poor prospects, she dreams of marrying a rich man. (feminism is in its early days here!) She asked me to post her photo and to say she's looking for a rich "mondele". "Mondele" means any white person. The idea of countries is vague; the general term for developed countries is "mpoto".
It was fun, positive and a lovely distraction from our oft upsetting work. I felt happy and relaxed.
The first comments were from supportive friends. These friends have given moral and financial support over the years.
"Marie, 18, is Judith's niece. She'd like to marry a rich European."
"So would I!" replied one friend.
"Me too!" replied another.
Imagine how deflated I became when I started to get flack!
Trolls are online bullies. They've never commented on the work we do. They've never sent words of encouragement. They've never sent a fiver for our funds. But - after almost 9 years - they put a damper on the bit of fun Marie and I were having.
They're supposed to be friends! The moral police, telling me what I can and can't post. No donations in all these years of hard slog, nothing. The funny thing is, one of them only ever appears on facebook in bikinis or very skimpy clothes. If I criticised that I'd be attacked again. Who are they? Incels?
We live in the real world full of social connections, friends, fun-times, sometimes we clown about. I can't help thinking it was an ageist thing.
I've just come from our great-aunt's wake. I called in at the centre on my way home. Marie was drawing water from a well.
She doesn't have a phone. She doesn't have Facebook. She doesn't speak English and struggles with French. It was a bit of fun.
"Put it back on," she implored. "I want everyone to see my beautiful photo - and try and get me a rich "mondele!"
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