Hello

I was born in 1973, in the beautiful town of Bukavu, which lies in the
Eastern part of the Democratic Peoples’ Republic of Congo. Unfortunately,
that means that it is dangerously close to Rwanda and Uganda, two
countries who sought to obtain the surrounding land for their own use.
I was my father’s firstborn. I had one sister, plus eight half-siblings from my
father’s two further marriages.
My father chose to name me Kenyata, after Jomo Kenyatta; he believed
that I looked just like that wise leader against the brutal rule of the white
colonials.
I grew up a serious, principled and rather a sad boy. My parents had
divorced when I was two years old, and, with my mother gone, I was raised
by a stepmother who showed no love for me. Indeed, she treated me
unfairly, compared to her own children. Despite being only two, I was
expected to help clean the house and look after my baby sister.
I was sent to be educated at St Francois Xavier’s school, where I was
baptised into the Catholic faith, and given the western name of Christian.
My inspiration was Archbishop Christophe Munzihirwa, who taught us
young boys that we must never, at all costs, betray our country of Congo.
Sadly, Christophe was murdered in his work by Rwandan invaders, in
October, 1996.
In the school holidays, my father would send me to the village where my
grandfather lived, to learn all I needed to know from that wise old man.
Another strong influence in my life was a Canadian priest, John DeCoste*,
whom I first met while serving as an altar boy at the Catholic Chapel le
Soeurs Blanc. He was a very charitable man, who helped many students in
his care. He befriended me and sponsored me right there and then.

From school, I attended the Catholic University of Bukavu, to study Law
Meanwhile, war was on the horizon.
The West was developing new electronic devices, such as mobile phones,
which needed rare minerals. All these – gold, casserite, lithium and the so-
called 3T minerals, namely tungsten, tin and tantalum (an extract from
coltan), to name a few, were found to be beneath the ground in South Kivu,
in the Bukavu area.
Demand for these minerals led to two wars, leading in turn to much loss of
life. Which is why, these days, they bear the description of ‘conflict
minerals’.
Aged 22, I remember the bombs falling. The year was 1996, the month,
October, when Kivu Province was invaded. Refugees fleeing from the
genocide in Rwanda fled to the borders, finding themselves sharing the
camps with killers. The United Nations refused to address this major
tragedy, so Rwanda and Uganda felt free to invade the Congo.
The war began on a Monday. As I was coming from church on the previous
Sunday, I saw a man with a machete, displaying three human fingers
clinging to the weapon. So traumatised was I by this apparition, I was
unable to eat for a week.
On the third night, the local invasion began, and I had to run.
I helped some Rwandese and Burundese, who were also fleeing, together
with a party of Catholic nuns and foreign students, by leading them to my
family’s village, although their ultimate destination was Kisangani. Being
known in the village, I was able to save them from attack, despite the fact
that there were Mobutu soldiers there. They were given a compound in
which to sleep.
A very old and wise man in the village warned me not to go with the
refugees to Kisangani. They offered me money to accompany them, but I

stood my ground. This was God-given advice, since thousands were later
massacred there.
I stayed on for a week. I was later to learn that this was the village where
my Lundi ancestors came from, and where initiation ceremonies took place.
Many generations before, my ancestors had fought the Belgians’ colonial
cruelty, and been scattered all round Central Africa, as a result, like the
Jews in historic Europe.
Next, I returned to Bukavu, only to find that the Governor was taking young
men by force to join the Army. Once again, I had to flee.
My benefactor, John DeCoste, was also forced to flee, for his own safety;
but not before he had left me with $3,000. Later, I was to receive
continuing support from him. Meanwhile, I fled via Rwanda, Uganda and
Kenya to Cape Town, where I was able to continue my studies.
Just as my money ran out, I encountered a holy woman from Vietnam,
Supreme Master Ching Hai, spiritual leader of the Guanyin Famen/Quan
Yin. She recognised something special in my nature and, over time gave me
£10,000 to finish my studies. Another God-given blessing.
After the end of the Second Congo War, I returned to Bukavu. It was now
the early 2000s, and the FDLR were trying to recruit young people to fight. I
got arrested, for no good reason, and, once freed, I again had to flee. With
further help from a priest in Bukavu, I made my way to the UK.
But, instead of making myself comfortable in my new country, I have felt it
necessary to continue my human rights work from afar. Receiving regular
reports of the continuing horror and violence in my homeland, I am now
producing campaign ideas in my new activist home, the Justice Congo
Group.
While in church in 2023, I was approached by an elderly white woman, of
South African origin.
She handed me the following message:

“While we, as a church, were praying for you, I had a clear impression that
you will be facing many giants – giants of poverty, exploitation, injustice,
corruption and favouritism - and that you may feel very overwhelmed and
powerless, as is the job of giants.
“I felt Father God wanted to say to you to remain bold and not allow
yourself to be intimidated by these giants. Just like David learned to trust
God in the fields, looking after the sheep, facing wolves and bears, you
have been equipped to face these giants.”
*Note: John DeCoste wrote of his experiences in DRC, in his 2016 book,
“Alone and on my Knees”, available from Google Books.