Original subtitles

Back in our village,

we used to live well. I would play with my friends.

We used to go very early to the fields to pick sweet potatoes.

When we finished, we would go to the river.

We would play in the water without fear of crocodiles.

When it rained, we would run into the streets.

We'd comb through the sand mixed with the rainwater...

We would wash it, then would find gold...

At the end of the day,

we would go home singing.

And I went to bed with no worries.

We were at peace. No reason to be afraid.

But one day everything changed...

and I ended up in a place I never thought I would be.

Driving on this road everyday...

it is a challenge.

It is a challenge due to the rural exodus to Bukavu.

All the families are fleeing their villages

to settle in the city, looking for safety.

Bukavu has gone from approximately fifty thousand people

to, today, probably more than a million.

And this is because of the war. People had to flee their villages.

People all moved.

They left, you know, like the most amazing place

because the villages, they have all the fields and everything there.

And to live here, you know, in poverty, because they don't have land here.

That means they didn't have other alternatives.

This road is a constant reminder that the war is not over.

But really, the most amazing thing about this road,

it's where it leads us everyday.

When we study the laws regarding sexual violence

you'll realize that many things are prohibited.

This means you must defend your rights yourself!

I am the Director of City of Joy.

My problem is, I walk very fast.

Even if others are wearing running shoes

and I'm in my heels,

they can't keep up with me.

But regardless of moving fast,

I will never leave City of Joy.

I will grow old here.

Many of us women have given birth from rape.

We received your invitation to come to City of Joy

and now we have arrived.

Let me be clear. We want you to stay here for six months of training.

Then you will be able to return to your normal life.

Is that clear?

They tied my aunt up

and took out a knife

and then they stabbed her.

After stabbing her, they started collecting her blood.

And when they made sure that she was dead and they had her blood...

they spilled it all over her house.

Then six soldiers came to where I was.

The first one raped me, then the second,

then the third and the fourth one also raped me.

After the fourth one was through, I became unconscious.

I was taken to the Panzi Hospital

and when we arrived I still could not walk.

I told my mother that I wasn't crazy but that I just wanted to die.

I prayed for death but I couldn't get it.

But I couldn't get life either.

Father, we thank you

and leave the sick in your hands.

Please guide us so the work we do for our patients,

we do with your help...

- Amen. - Amen.

MURKWERE MD Gynecologist Obstetrician

WORK SCHEDULE

I started working in the year 1983,

in a hospital which is 100 kilometers from here.

I was the Director of Medicine at the hospital in Lemera.

It was situated in a rural area.

Unfortunately, in 1994,

we began to see soldiers coming from Rwanda

climbing into the mountains.

And in 1996,

the hospital was attacked.

During the attack, 33 patients were killed in their beds

and many of our staff were also killed.

They were killed in the hospital.

In their beds.

I evacuated another patient, but behind me,

the path was blocked and I couldn't return.

And these patients were killed.

And each time that I talk about what happened here,

the image of these women returns.

I just remember I could see the anger,

the revolution inside this man,

who devoted his life to help and to build this hospital

living, you know, it's in the middle of nowhere.

It was destroyed.

It made me suffer for a long time.

And when I came back to my senses...

I came here to Bukavu.

I renovated two houses

which I turned into Panzi Hospital.

The first person who was given medical care in this hospital

was a victim of sexual violence.

She had been raped by several people,

and after raping her, they shot her.

I thought it was an isolated incident.

I thought it was the barbarism of a crazy person,

but unfortunately, I began to learn that it was not the case at all.

I discovered that rape was being used as a weapon of war.

Destroyed by firearms, by knives,

and by different objects.

As of today, we have cared for more than 40,000 women.

Some women have lost their bladders, their vagina, and their rectum.

And we operate on as many as possible each day.

When the war started in 1996,

it was extremely difficult for us to understand what really happened.

First of all, it's just an economic war,

and you have all the powerful countries of the world, all involved.

They wanted to create a mess so they can control all the mining.

And we have lots of different groups of militias

and they all work for, you know, for important people

and all these multi-nationals from other countries all around the world.

And some corporations use the militias

because they know the forests, they know how to protect mines.

We don't even know who is who, who is working for who.

What's the army, what's not the army?

What's the police, what's not the police?

And these groups of militias, they are extremely poor.

They have nothing, so they are like slaves.

"But I have a gun so at least I can eat.

I can rape, I can do this."

I remember one day I saw this amazing map,

rapes and mining.

So you could see around the mines, you have lots of rape.

So they use it as a weapon of war.

Just imagine, for example, when they attack your village.

They rape your babies.

They rape your mother, your grandmothers.

So all the survivors, what do you think they do?

They leave.

And the militias take the village, most of the time around mines.

The strategies of these armies are very well thought out.

These women were often raped in front of their husbands

and in front of their children.

They can't cope with that.

The fact that women are violated in front of their husbands

creates a sense of humiliation for the latter,

and he abandons his wife in order to maintain his own worth.

The weight of all the guilt falls on the victim.

It is a total destruction of the family, of the community.

There are villages that are completely deserted today.

Clearly, it is a tactic of war.

Kiki!

Send me phone credit!

She'll send me credit.

Oh, my God, I promised to bring candy for the children.

I have a special plastic bag in my bag.

You want to see how...

Congolese money looks like?

So, this is Congolese money. You see?

That's why I put them in a plastic bag. It's Congolese money.

I was born in Congo, I grew up here in Bukavu.

For most of the 20th century, Congo was a Belgian colony

and my story is very connected to that history.

My mother is black and my father white.

They came from two completely different worlds.

My mother is illiterate.

She came from a very... I think the poorest family in Congo.

She was a tea and a coffee cutter in my grandparents' plantation.

And my father came from a very rich family from Belgium.

These snobby people, colonialists,

but he was revolted against the white people.

And they fell in love and it was a forbidden love.

My grandparents rejected him.

My father was fired from the house.

He had to stay, you know, with the workers.

They refused, you know,

to have their son who's with a black woman to come back into their house.

It was such a shame and so...

just impossible.

And for me, I had to find a place, you know, in the middle

of these two cultures.

And because I saw my mother suffering just because she was black,

because she was never at school,

I always felt very close to the people who suffered the most.

So I knew that my place was in Congo.

Merci.

I'm a mother of two children,

and when I see children suffering on the street,

I just want to shake the world.

So you heard about the hospital and came to Bukavu and Panzi?

Yes, I was brought on a plane.

They operated on me many times, for many years.

- At the hospital? - Yes.

When I came to City of Joy,

I wasn't feeling happy.

But I told myself, "Well there are people who still care."

Because I had been feeling worthless and kept to myself.

When all this started, we had no experience with war.

When we first heard the word "rape," we didn't know what it was.

We couldn't even conceive of the word.

But then we heard that soldiers...

were coming out of nowhere.

We heard girls were dying and so on.

Those were the times we started to live in fear.

But when I came to City of Joy, I said,

"Ah, I am not the only one!"

And each one of us...

has her own story.

It was around 8 o'clock at night.

We were at home.

"Open the door!"

They chose three girls and told them to lie down.

And then they raped them.

When they finished, they killed them.

We walked for a very long time, into the forest.

We arrived at their camp.

It was two weeks of being raped day and night.

One night, we ran and ran.

When we got home some parents rejoiced,

but my father wasn't happy.

He said, "You returned from being raped

and brought a curse here. You must leave!"

My mother is the one who took care of me. She did everything for me...

And then I gave birth.

The vision of City of Joy

is to revolutionize the mindset of Congolese women

who are survivors of gender violence.

And I have asked each woman,

"What do you want to do here at City of Joy?

And what do you want to do after you leave?"

I met Eve Ensler in 2007

at New York University where she was interviewed.

I knew of her play The Vagina Monologues,

and of her work with the victims of sexual violence.

When I returned from New York,

I told Christine that I thought it was very important

that she make contact with Eve.

He was like, "I don't know, you probably know her.

She did something with the vagina."

And just the minute he told me she's a celebrity

I was like, "No, thank you," and I left.

I saw many celebrities coming here.

Without respect, they just, like...

photographing us like animals in a zoo.

They raised money but we... We don't know where the money went.

So, for me it was, you know, fini.

But I contacted her and I said,

"Madam, I think you should come to Congo.

I'm inviting you to come to Panzi."

And she came.

And when I saw the way she was with the women, it was like...

Instead of criticizing, I decided

the only thing that matters is the will to bring change.

We were just like glue. Our missions were very allied.

And I think those weeks of interviews that we did at Panzi

completely bonded us.

They took a rag which they put at the end of a weapon

and that is what entered my organ.

Since the Bosnian war,

I have been working in many war zones where rape has been used as a tool of war,

whether it's been in Bosnia,

Haiti, Afghanistan.

And when I came to Congo, the magnitude of the stories

were beyond anything I'd ever heard in my life.

I turned back and saw the baby in flames, fighting with the fire.

I grabbed her and the house fell on us.

I am very scared to go back home. I'm afraid of being raped again...

We asked the girls, "What do you want?" And the girls said,

"We want a place where we can stay where we can be in power."

Then we started to put, you know,

all the pieces together.

That's how City of Joy started.

It is not an easy life when they leave here.

Without a hospital, without assistance.

And this place would not be a place to stay long term,

but rather a place to pass through

after the hospital...

They will pass through this place before going back to normal life,

but with a different perspective than the one they came in with.

And one of the things we were talking about is,

how do we make this the house of leadership

where women who have been through the worst

become the strongest voices for this country?

I think these women have an unimaginable strength

and they can use this strength to create change.

So, we agree, we're gonna do this together.

And I'm gonna go back and start raising money...

Everything I can do I will do it,

for these women. And as long as I have Dr. Mukwege

because I trust him, I will do it.

Are we calling it the Village of Joy or the City of Joy?

- City of Joy. - Okay, the City of Joy.

The City of Joy.

Did you hear the person who said

they didn't like the name, "City of Joy"?

He said, "No, these women are victims.

'Joy' is not the word for the situation."

- I believe it is a misunderstanding. - Yes.

- We are here to give joy... - Exactly.

And that the women don't have to be unhappy forever.

- Forever. - Yes. That's the whole point.

- All of this! - All this land!

From over there, all this land?

They asked what we wanted and we said we wanted a house.

A place away from soldiers, a place where we can have peace.

At first, we thought they were telling us lies.

But it was true.

And the day we held the ceremony

to place the stone,

we felt joy.

Where are the women who built City of Joy?

The bricks you were lifting, I myself could not lift them.

That's why, my sisters, we will change the suffering you've endured into power.

We have to tell the truth about what happened to us.

But when my friends tell their stories,

I feel that mine was not as bad.

- You heard what she said? - Yes.

Here, no one's story is worse or better...

So why give up hope?

Right?

No one remembers what it was like in their mother's womb before birth.

This is similar. You will be born to a new life, Tulizo.

And things will be better.

So, the secret is, you hold him with what hand?

With this one, the left.

Left, huh?

Okay? To hit him where?

In the stomach!

Broken glass!

Do you see?

This cloth never goes out of style. It never loses its sweetness.

This one is actually Deep Forest.

Television.

This one we call it...

Voila! Vagina.

So, if you'd like to have a dress like Mama Georgine's,

stand up please!

This cloth is good quality.

I love it very much.

My wish is that you take good care of it...

until we get our sewing machines in a few days.

It was never easy to be the granddaughter of colonialists

and when the war started,

something happened in my head,

because I couldn't help the way I wanted to help.

This girl is very young.

She's very young.

We have girls younger than her.

One day I was at the hospital and two girls,

two little girls, they were raped.

It's an infernal circle.

At that time I cried so much.

You know, for the first time of my life I think I can kill.

And then one day, I remember, I had like, a six-month baby,

months, not years,

was raped and she died in my arms, and I could not help her.

I went so crazy.

I was, like, so ready to go to all these people responsible.

So, I went so crazy

that I wanted to take the little body,

to bring him, you know, to the UN boss

and then to bring the body to the...

the governor, to say what the hell is that?

When I went to bed, you know,

I started seeing all the children who died in my arms,

all the relatives I lost.

My best, best, best friend, she was killed.

Also my neighbors, the whole family was shot next to my house.

I felt so useless.

I was, like, crying everyday, I could not sleep anymore.

One Sunday, I saw her,

I saw that she was very thin

and that she could barely stand.

I was walking on the road so he passed me.

He didn't see me.

And then... I think after he realized that it was me, so he came back.

I was worried about her.

I absolutely needed to do something.

I told Christine,

"I think that you are at the point of no return."

And the same night, you know, I went and I looked at me in the mirror

and I saw the shadow of myself.

I saw a sick person.

It was impossible to hide. I was really...

I was dying.

So, I was like, no, I need to change something to help me survive.

To be a good leader,

you have to be able to be a good storyteller.

A story is good if l am open and honest in telling it.

Exactly.

And the more honest you are able to be,

the more you will allow other people to be honest,

because when you hear someone with your shared experience,

you feel safe, you feel like someone knows you.

And I share my story publicly

and I say, for example, "Hi, I'm Eve," right?

I've been very involved with working to stop violence against women

for a very long time.

The reason for this is because I was raped and beaten as a child by my father.

That made me understand that other women were suffering what I was suffering.

When Mama Eve told her story,

I listened very carefully.

I realized that such bad things happen in the West too, O Lord!

That gave me strength and brought hope to my mind.

This is your speech. This is going to change your community.

So, wherever you go, you can give your speech.

In church...

...in the market...

...on the street...

Wherever you go, you give your speech.

To the point where people say, "Please, stop talking."

You say, "No, I'm going to keep talking until the violence stops."

When I wrote The Vagina Monologues,

everybody told me, "Do not say the word 'vagina.'"

Everywhere I went in the world.

"Do not say the word 'cuma.' No cuma."

"No cuma."

Everywhere, right?

I said, "Vagina. Vagina. Vagina. Vagina."

After a few years,

many women...

started to say cuma.

Tout le monde!

Vagin! Cuma! Puke! Every language!

It was not just to say the word.

When we tell the truth...

we break the silence.

We change the world.

People have still said to me, "Please, stop saying the word 'vagina.'"

And I say, "When all women are free,

I will stop saying the word 'vagina."' Yes?

The same is true for your community.

When all the women are free, that's when you stop talking.

I think one of the things I find very disturbing about the war in Congo

is for how long it's been going on and how many people have suffered

and how indifferent the world has been to it.

If you think about six million people dead,

hundreds and hundreds of thousands of women raped and tortured.

You look at the Bosnian war whereprobably 20 to 40 thousand women were raped.

Within a year and a half, that war was ended

because it was in the middle of Europe.

Why in the hell has this war been going on this long

without a much greater world intervention?

Where has the world been

in looking at the world's culpability in this war

in terms of the mineral trade?

The mining of coltan,

a mineral that is found in every one of our iPhones and computers.

Congo is one of the richest country in the world.

It's coltan.

So we have like all the countries who are like this.

They come for their own interests.

And then you see their helicopters every day with the gold,

with the coltan, with diamond, with uranium.

So, nobody wants this to end.

All these multinationals want to continue funding the militias

to go into the mines and plunder Congo.

So it's all connected.

With millions of Congolese who died,

and nobody's talking about a genocide.

So, I don't know how many deaths they need before they talk about a genocide.

It's as if the Congo has become something in the imagination.

You put that together with racism,

you put that together with colonialism.

You put all of that together.

Nobody even thinks of the Congolese as real people.

If I want to change my hair,

I buy hair extensions in the market.

I've started taking better care of myself.

I've started regaining confidence that I am still a human being.

What's going on here?

This man touched her buttocks.

What right does he have to do that?

Congolese law prohibits a man to touch a woman who isn't his wife.

You need to speak and show confidence, strength!

If l do this to you...

Hey Mister, stay away!

Come here, everyone, he's trying to rape me!

He held me like this and then he twisted my arm...

My question is, what if they come at you with a gun or a knife?

I was very bitter because I'm the only one who was raped in my family.

I had so much anger and I didn't feel I deserved to live.

A woman's organ is called...

Vagina.

Why do you all seem so shy to say the word?

We were taught that it is a sin to say the word.

When you say "hand," is it bad?

No. When you say "vagina," it is a sin.

You are worried that it is a bad thing, that it's a sin.

How many have never seen it?

You've never seen it at all?

You can never be you if you have not accepted yourself.

Do you understand?

Many of us look at ourselves in the mirror.

Do you like what you see? Do you hate it?

Do you think you look beautiful? Jane?

I like my physical appearance, I think I look nice.

I see all of you use mirrors.

Now, the doctor asked...

how many of you have used the mirror to look at her vagina?

Huh?

Who has already looked at herself?

Sister, when you looked at your vagina, what did you see?

I looked at it and saw a burnt part.

What are you laughing at?

Stand up and say it boldly.

When I looked at it in the mirror, I saw many parts and a hole

and then I wondered what it was exactly.

She says that she saw a hole. Who else?

My vagina frightened me. I wouldn't want anyone to see it.

Jane.

When I looked at the female sexual organs...

- Your organs! - Yes, when I looked at my organs,

they were ugly!

Now, all of us should learn to love ourselves.

You have an organ that is very important and beautiful.

It is a beautiful creature in us.

Don't be afraid to look at it.

- Do you hear? - Yes.

The doctor gave you an assignment.

On Monday he will be here.

Everyone must have already drawn herself.

Do not draw something that is not yours.

Jane.

Tulizo.

It was the first time I wore my habit as a nun.

They started burning some of the other nuns

and I started crying.

And when I screamed they shot me on my forehead.

I started feeling dizzy.

I felt dizzy and I fell down.

And on the ground, I saw lots of pregnant women

And I saw the soldiers...

cutting open their bellies, and their fetuses...

were falling out.

I was very dizzy. There was no one left in the village...

One soldier with a machete came towards me and I told him to leave me alone.

He told me I was the luckiest person in the world

and he led me out of the forest.

He said he had killed so many people that the urge to kill had gone away.

He showed me the road, and from there, I found my way to Bukavu...

When I was young, I have memories,

we could go out in groups,

we could go to the forest,

and inspire each other to write poems.

We went to the forest in order to feel that human warmth.

This love that can express itself just by listening to the birds singing.

When I used to go to the forest

with my friends, we would dance,

we would run together through the forest...

And we could never have imagined the idea of being violent to someone.

But sadly, the forest is no longer a place for lovers to take a walk.

The forest is not a place where a writer can go for inspiration any longer.

Not for peace, for liberty,

but has become a place for violence, for destruction.

Where women don't feel safe

when they look for firewood or water.

My feeling about the forest is,

when you've been bitten by a snake,

you don't go back to that place, because...

when you go back there, you're frightened.

The women don't go to the fields.

They're even afraid to go and take the water. So it's like all the society...

is collapsing.

They are starving because they're don't cultivate anymore.

It's a scandal because everything grows.

It's like the most fertile soil you can have.

Are you urinating well?

It's coming out without a problem?

No problem. It's just coming out.

Are you still together with your husband?

My husband died.

Did he die in the war?

In the late 1990's, when I started working with women,

I would interview them.

When the rebels came, I had already heard

what was happening from the villagers.

They threatened to kill me

and I thought I was going to lose my mind.

And when you listen to it like a story,

it is sort of okay.

But when they begin to show you what happened, the scars,

I reached a point wheremy head couldn't function properly.

For the first time I was seeing one, two, three,

forty, a hundred, a thousand...

ten thousand... Do you think that was easy?

I said to myself, "This can't go on any longer."

I couldn't sleep, I had nightmares...

I had some sort of heart palpitations.

I remembered these things and went,

"Where is my daughter?"

And right away, before seeing her, I would start shaking.

I wondered where she was, because I thought,

if this happened to my daughter, what would become of me?

But no one would listen to me.

When I said I saw destroyed vaginas,

everyone thought I was insane.

I was mocked.

I thought about leaving Congo.

I have friends abroad, I could practice gynecology elsewhere.

Why would I want to continue when nobody understood?

And my entire life, when I've felt lost...

If l am truly in the will of God,

he has opened a narrow door for me to pass through.

And this was such a door.

I remember very well.

It was a Saturday.

Eve had arrived at the hospital

and after lunch, we asked the women about their lives.

And then we started dancing.

And each woman, or each group of women,

danced in the style of her village or her tribe.

And I felt that the dance relaxed us immensely.

It was incredible!

It was like an incredible form of therapy.

Because it was the first time after this whole period,

that I went home...

and I slept deeply.

I slept deeply.

It was the first time that I could get into bed

and sleep like a baby.

I saw that all is not lost and I had a revelation

that I should continue and not give up!

Because if these women could express such a force from within,

then I had to fight alongside them. That's it.

Be it your father,

your uncle,

your cousin,

your brother...

or the teacher in your school...

- Or the pastor! - ...or the pastor!

There is no reason to keep quiet!

- So, don't do what? - Don't fear!

You have to say what was done to you!

You have to speak up about what happened so it doesn't happen to others!

Yes!

I remember I was at my uncle's, I was sleeping.

They took us with them...

into the forest.

They cut off my uncle's genitals,

his arms, his legs.

They pierced his eyes and left him alive.

Then they raped me

and left me tied to a tree.

I was left on that tree for almost two months.

My arms were swollen.

They cut my uncle down

and his dead body fell on me.

They left me there.

I couldn't even move.

By the time the good soldiers found us,

three of us had already been slaughtered.

I was already one month pregnant.

They took me with them. I was very weak...

When I got home, nobody was there.

Every time I tried to sleep, I had nightmares.

I was so afraid.

When I was seven months pregnant, the militia kidnapped me again.

They hit me in the tummy with the side of a machete...

My water broke and I had to deliver there.

They helped me deliver

but they broke my pelvic bone in the process.

The baby came out decayed.

When I walked, I had to drag my legs behind me.

My tummy swelled and swelled.

There were remains of the baby which had rotten inside

and hadn't come out.

I was feeling so much pain every single day.

When I got back, I stayed at the neighbor's.

A bad smell came out of my mouth and genitals.

My neighbors heard at church

that a helicopter was looking for suffering people like me.

It was hard for anyone to move me

because my whole body was rotten.

Finally they were forced to carry me in a basket.

They helped me into a big basket and put it on a man's back

and that is how we got to the airport.

When Jane arrived at the hospital,

we never thought she would survive.

The day I got to Panzi, l arrived unconscious.

I was able to hear, but I could not speak.

I was there for seven years.

She is a woman whom they tried to destroy physically,

morally, spiritually...

But in spite of all that, she was strong enough to say,

"We are going to live. We are going to live for others."

We love each other...

due to the pain we experienced...

and the connection between us.

I never believed we would have this City of Joy.

Where we came from, we could no longer call home.

We couldn't remember so many things. I didn't even know my age.

When asked, "When were you born?"

I couldn't answer because there was nothing in my head.

Everything was destroyed when the violence came to us.

She has no child, no family, she is alone,

but she always fought for the others.

And l think this love, this desire to fight for others,

even when things for you have been completely destroyed...

I believe that is the symbol of the struggle of the Congolese woman.

Today, when Jane was speaking,

you could feel the power of leadership, right?

The way she just took center stage.

Yes.

Each one of you is gonna take center stage

with your voice, with yourself.

Even without words, you can see the strength in her gestures.

We don't want you to walk like this.

A woman should walk like this, right?

When she speaks, you listen, right?

Why do you listen?

Because she stands here and she takes space.

Because she knows she has the right to exist,

because she knows what she's been through has given her all legitimacy

for the rest of her life to do whatever she wants.

Stand up. Everybody, stand up,

Right? Yes? Take space!

I want you to take space. Just step forward and take space.

Go ahead, step forward.

Take space!

Okay, now!

Okay, take... do it again!

Step forward! Take space!

She's a survivor. I told my story, you can tell your story,

and there's a life after all we survived.

You know, because most of the women who came at City of Joy, they were like,

"Oh, no, what can we do?" You know, "It's a disaster, I don't know."

So Jane told them,

"What did you pass through? Only that?

Okay, we're not here to compare.

You want to know what I passed through?

Do you want to know who I am?

Do you want me to show you my vagina?

You know, I don't have a vagina anymore,

just a huge hole. Do you want to see it?

What are you complaining about?" That's Jane.

She's like the sunshine.

And you know, her happiness is contagious.

She's our joy, she's our sunshine at the...

at the City of Joy.

What I feel?

What I feel is,

I'm not afraid anymore.

Because of what I endured

I have such a pain...

And now I realize I'm not alone in this,

and I could have killed myself for no reason.

These are all my sisters.

I love them all...

So, I have accepted myself.

I have.

Rape in Congo, I don't call it rape anymore,

because for me, it's like a sexual terrorism.

The women are like the force of the family.

They take care of the children, they give birth, so it's like,

if they destroy the woman, they will destroy the whole community.

Ten men cannot rape a single woman

unless they have given up on their own lives.

This is the generation we now have.

It is a catastrophe.

The child who has seen his mother in terrible suffering,

a suffering that was created by a man,

do you think this will be a normal child?

Will he one day respect someone else's mother?

Will this child...

ever respect human life when he knows he is an orphan

because his father was killed in front of him

and his mother was raped in front of him?

Do you think this child will grow up to respect human life?

To respect another woman?

To respect others?

It is with great humility that I say,

the International Community has shown fear and a lack of courage

for 16 years in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

We need urgent action

to stop these crimes against humanity and to bring the perpetrators to justice.

And justice is not negotiable.

On the evening of October 25,

I returned from New York and Geneva,

where I attempted to defend the rights of Congolese women.

And when I returned from this long mission...

I arrived home

and there were armed men waiting for me.

They had already taken my daughters and their niece hostage.

My children were held hostage

for more than 20 minutes by armed men.

Dr. Mukwege was my neighbor,

and when I entered my house, I heard shooting.

But I thought it was in my garden.

And suddenly I saw one of Dr. Mukwege's nephews.

He came into my house.

He was like, "Dr. Mukwege... Blood everywhere."

The only question, I was like, "Is Dr. Mukwege alive?"

I thought I was going to lose my life.

I was there

and he was with his gun. I just saw him turning...

and he fired.

I fell down there.

They wanted to kill me,

but I was saved. Sadly,

the man who protected me,

he was shot to death.

Then after three days here,

I realized that it was very difficult

for my family to stay under these conditions.

So I left.

But after two months away, the women started to write.

They said, "Come back, we are capable of protecting you."

But at that time, I thought,

"This is brave, but it's not enough against armed men."

But the day that the women decided to bring tomatoes,

pineapples, to sell their produce

to pay for my return ticket to Congo...

These women who live on less than one dollar a day...

I found that it was a pull that I couldn't resist.

I never saw something like this.

Because it wasn't prepared, it was something spontaneous.

Even, you know, people here from Panzi, the day before,

they just came here, they said,

"Mama Christine, we just ask you one thing,

please hire three buses for us.

We want go to the airport. We want to bring our doctor home."

Your presence here is deeply significant.

Today,

we're taking a stand together, against sexual violence.

Today, Dr. Mukwege lost his freedom.

Because since that attempt, there was no investigations.

So we don't even know who it was.

So he lives like a prisoner.

All the time, he has to walk with seven bodyguards.

The only place he goes is City of Joy.

So, it's City of Joy, hospital. City of Joy, hospital.

But he did that for the women of Congo, and that's why,

I think all the women of Congo, they deeply respect him.

The danger is permanent.

At any moment, anything can happen.

I have received death threats.

I had to change my life.

I moved out of my house, and I now live in the hospital.

Like Dr. Mukwege, I decided to stay here,

because I cannot live out of Congo.

I cannot imagine myself, you know, being in Belgium or in Switzerland,

just in an office and be stuck all the day with all the stress.

I prefer my stress here than the stress in Europe.

From today forward, I am waking up from my slumber...

Tomorrow I want to be a leader and to start serving others.

I gave birth to a baby girl and I hated her very much.

I used to look at her and remember what I went through.

I tried to commit suicide twice. I was very unhappy.

My daughter is now 8 years old.

I love her unconditionally.

I have asked for forgiveness from her.

That is the heart of my story.

I was so afraid,

but from now on, my fear is gone.

And I will go back to my village

and teach others about releasing fear.

So, this is what happens: one person lies on the ground.

Put your head here.

This is called the Laughter Game.

The Laughter Game, okay.

When you feel the laugh,

you start to laugh.

But only when you feel the stomach laughing under your head

do you start to laugh.

I always told Mama Christine that I never wanted to leave here.

But we have to go so we can help others.

I've been preparing for this,

because today we separate from our children,

who are leaving for another phase.

They were our daughters,

and we hope that they will be fine wherever they go.

Being with the girls here and seeing

what they survived and all the joy they have,

you know, it helped me to take care of myself

because I know how many people count on me.

So, I'm alive and I'm well because of all of them.

It's an anger that comes from watching beautiful women

be violated,

and it's an anger that comes from witnessing a world

that is indifferent to those violations.

You know that we suffer with this nightmare of rape.

What did we do wrong? Us women?

The violence that has happened here,

I blame it on our President of Congo,

and I blame it on the American President.

They have all the means

necessary to stop the war in Congo.

Rwanda, Tanzania, China, the Congolese president,

South Africa, Uganda, the U.S.A.,

Belgium, Germany, France,

Canada and England:

these countries should all be deeply ashamed.

The motto of City of Joy

is to transform pain into power.

That these girls who have suffered so much become leaders of their communities...

It will take time, but we believe in this.

We must stop this. Stop the violence as a war tactic.

Stop the savage rape...

that is destroying our society, that is destroying us...

It's impossible. It's unacceptable. It's unfathomable!

One little girl, she's a survivor of a massacre.

She's four years old.

I kind of adopted her.

One day she was like,

"Mama Christine, you're so lucky.

Your long feet!" I was like, my long feet?

"Yes, because you can run so fast. Nobody can catch you."

So, you see, the only dream of little Congolese children,

having long legs like mine to run.

To run very very fast.

Nobody can catch them.