Tienermoeders

Rond Amanipi komt tienermoederschap vaak voor. We zagen het ook al in de wijde omgeving van Lanza. Het lijkt meer regel dan uitzondering op het platteland in Congo. Dit fenomeen blijft me bezighouden. Wat zijn de oorzaken van het te jonge moederschap? En wat zijn de gevolgen voor het meisje en haar kind? We hebben het over tienermeisjes zoals Asheni en Naomi in Lanza, Alesi en Esther in Amanipi. Elk met hun dromen en hun kwetsbaarheid.

Waarom worden meisjes zo jong moeder?

Armoede speelt een grote rol. Veel gezinnen hebben moeite om rond te komen, waardoor meisjes gevoelig zijn voor jongemannen die hun geld en voorspoed beloven. De verleiding om via seksueel contact te ontsnappen aan de armoede is voor de meesten onweerstaanbaar.

Er is nog een andere, diepgewortelde oorzaak. Al van jongs af aan groeien meisjes op met het beeld dat moederschap het belangrijkste doel van een vrouw is. Een kind krijgen betekent respect, erkenning en een plek in de gemeenschap. Peuters van twee jaar lopen met een pop op hun rug gebonden net als hun moeder met de baby. En meisjes van vier dragen al hun jongere broertje of zusje op de rug. Tienermeisjes verlangen ernaar om zelf moeder te worden, ook al zijn zij daar lichamelijk, emotioneel en geestelijk nog niet klaar voor. Het ‘organiseren’ van een zwangerschap is niet zo moeilijk. In de omgeving van Amanipi zijn er regelmatig nachtfeesten met veel drank. Het gevolg is veel onbeschermde seksuele contacten en voilà, na enkele weken is de zwangerschap een feit.

De gevolgen

De gevolgen van een vroege zwangerschap zijn ingrijpend, in de eerste plaats voor het tienermeisje. Ja, ze heeft wat ze wilde en ze mag uitzien naar het moederschap. Maar die voldoening heeft een hoge prijs. In de eerste plaats moet ze stoppen met school, waardoor ze niet meer de kans krijgt om verder te leren. Verder loopt haar gezondheid risico’s omdat haar lichaam nog niet volgroeid is. Sommige meisjes maken zware complicaties mee, soms zelfs met dodelijk gevolg. En door de onbeschermde seks loopt ze risico’s op geslachtsziekten en HIV/Aids.

Ook haar kind draagt de gevolgen. De vader van het kind, als die al bekend is, neemt vaak niet de verantwoordelijkheid van het vaderschap op zich. Het kind groeit dus op zonder zijn eigen vader te kennen. De tienermoeder staat er alleen voor en ze blijft bij haar ouders wonen. De grootouders dragen de lasten van meerdere kleinkinderen, naast die van hun eigen kinderen. Na het eerste kind volgen er meestal meer. De kans op een officieel huwelijk wordt steeds kleiner. Ze is dan niet langer tienermoeder maar ongehuwde moeder. De kinderen hebben vaker dan anderen te maken met ziekte, ondervoeding en gebrek aan onderwijs. Zo blijft een vicieuze cirkel van armoede en kwetsbaarheid bestaan. Het is schrijnend om te zien. We zien dat heen overal om ons heen gebeuren zoals bij Alesi, Esther, Taabo en nog vele andere buurmeisjes. In vrijwel iedere familie komt het voor, ook die van de voorganger. Zij hebben vier kleinkinderen opgenomen in hun gezin.

Wat kunnen we doen?

Met het boomkweekproject van de 4Pijlers proberen we deze meisjes hoop en toekomst te geven. Ze planten hun eigen koffie en andere bomen. Hierdoor kunnen ze op den duur financieel op eigen benen staan. Een voorbeeld hiervan is Alesi die haar eigen koffieboompjes plantte.

Daarnaast is onderwijs vanuit de kerk heel belangrijk. We geloven dat ieder mens door God geschapen is en kostbaar in Zijn ogen. Daarom zijn wij geroepen om meisjes en jonge vrouwen te beschermen, te begeleiden en hoop te bieden. Meisjes mogen ontdekken dat God een plan heeft met hun leven dat verder reikt dan een te vroeg moederschap. De kerk heeft een belangrijke taak om Bijbelse waarden over liefde, seksualiteit en verantwoordelijkheid te onderwijzen, in openheid en met genade. Onze voorganger in Amanipi heeft mij gevraagd om hierover onderwijs te geven in de jeugddienst. Ik heb dit met plezier en overtuiging gedaan. Op de komende kerkelijke conferentie ben ik hier weer voor uitgenodigd.

Het is belangrijk dat jongeren begrijpen dat het huwelijk Gods oorspronkelijke plan is. De waarde van een vrouw ligt niet alleen in het krijgen van kinderen, maar allereerst in het feit dat zij een geliefd kind van God is. Moederschap is kostbaar, maar op de juiste tijd, in Gods tijd. Dan kan ze samen met haar man de verantwoordelijkheid voor de kinderen dragen en hun kinderen een betere toekomst bieden.

We zijn dankbaar dat we ons steentje mogen bijdragen aan hoop voor tienermoeders en aan onderwijs over deze ingewikkelde en gevoelige onderwerpen. Ik bid Gods wijsheid en liefde om daarbij de goede woorden te kiezen.

Living in Amanipi: A Journey into the Heart of Northeastern Congo

Since March this year, Roelof and I have been living in Amanipi, a small village located in the far northeastern corner of the Democratic Republic of Congo. It’s close to Uganda, just 40 kilometers from the Sudanese border, and lies on the edge of the Lugbara people’s territory. A major road connects the border to larger cities in Congo, and Amanipi is situated about three kilometers from this main road.

But what exactly is Amanipi? At first glance, the village appears modest — just an Evangelical church and two simple brick houses with corrugated iron roofs. As we explore further, we discover that Amanipi extends over several square kilometers of savannah, with homes scattered across the landscape. There’s even a small center with a Catholic church and school. Finding the people, however, requires some effort. You really have to venture out to meet them.

A Stroll Around the Village

I take a short walk around the area, starting from our house. It’s a pleasure to greet the neighbors and get to know them better. A narrow path leads about 50 meters toward the church grounds. Turning right takes me to the church, but I turn left toward the pastor’s house. He and his visitor are sitting outside and greet me warmly in Lugbarati, and I respond in kind. I’ve now mastered the basics of greetings and small talk. His wife and daughter are busy in the kitchen, and the children are playing outside. The pastor smiles at me. Despite the challenging circumstances, he remains upbeat — a joy that runs deep, rooted in his faith in Jesus.

A little further, I reach another cluster of homes, built in the local style. Here, Anguezu and Sorry live with their family. I walk into their yard, where there is always a lively atmosphere, usually filled with small children. As soon as I arrive, they set up a few chairs for me. You don’t just pass through here; sitting down is part of the Congolese hospitality. You always feel welcomed, and it’s a heartwarming experience. I sit down, and Sorry and I chat for a while before I continue my walk.

Next, I visit Alio and Ayikuru’s home, a family with five children. Alio is busy repairing his old motorcycle. He’s taken the engine apart and is patiently reassembling it. I watch in awe — his tools are minimal, yet he handles the work with ease. Alio is very skilled and often helps us with various tasks around the house.

Daily Life

On the compound, cassava is drying after being soaked in water. Once dried, it can be stored for a long time. The people here make fufu from cassava, a staple food they absolutely love.

Ayikuru is also there with her two youngest children, Manzedri and Jeremy. The children are quite shy around me, often hiding behind their mother. Ayikuru helps me three mornings a week with household tasks: handwashing clothes, cleaning the house, and baking bread. I’m incredibly grateful for her assistance — without her, I’d be doing everything myself, as all the work here is done by hand.

Together, we inspect the peanut field Ayikuru has planted using the 4Pillar method, which doesn’t require plowing. She’s delighted with the method as it saves her time and money and is much less physically demanding. While we chat, the neighbor’s children climb a palm tree to pick oil palm fruit. I ask, “Are you making palm oil?” (That’s what they used to do in Lanza). “No,” they reply, “we don’t have enough fruit for oil, we just eat them, they’re delicious!”

Market Day

On Wednesdays, there’s a market in Orya, a village four kilometers away. Ayikuru and I cycle there together. Along the way, we encounter various acquaintances and stop for quick chats. We pass through the center of Amanipi, where there are motorcycle repair shops, and where gasoline and spirits are sold. In the evenings, loud music often blasts from large speakers. The first people we see are Alio and Anguezu, who are attending a meeting at the center. Next, we encounter a pastor from the Evangelical church who is selling gasoline.

We finally reach the market, which is buzzing with the vibrant colors and energy that Congo is known for. Goods are laid out directly on the ground, with women sitting on small stools beside them. Peanuts, freshly harvested, are in abundance, and the entire market is filled with them, selling for a pittance.

I’m only looking for some vegetables and fruit. There’s plenty of cabbage. For just 13 cents, I buy a cabbage and a papaya — truly inexpensive! It’s clear that the vendors’ earnings are minimal.

A “mundú” (white person) at the market is quite the spectacle! I’m stared at from all sides. Many women and children seem shy and look at me with some suspicion. I definitely feel like an outsider. Thankfully, I can now speak a bit of Lugbarati, and greeting people in their own language often helps break the ice. A few older men greet me in French, perhaps to impress me.

After looking around, we head back to our bikes. One of the bike repairmen adds some air to my tire, and then we begin the ride home. I feel fortunate to have a comfortable mountain bike. I think about all the women who must walk this distance or further, carrying heavy loads on their heads. I feel deeply blessed to live and work among these people, but I also recognize that there is still a long way to go before the community can escape poverty

Taabo

The Resilience of Taabo: A Young Mother’s Journey

Taabo, a 25-year-old woman living in Amanipi, is our neighbor and the daughter of a local pastor. Despite her challenges, she has become an inspiration in the community. Occasionally, she helps me in the kitchen, roasting coffee and making peanut butter. Her name, derived from Swahili, means “sorrow” or “suffering,” which resonates with her life story.

At just 15, Taabo became a mother, dropping out of school in her second year of high school. She married her daughter’s father, and together they had three more boys. However, Taabo never returned to her studies; her responsibilities included caring for her children and managing agricultural work. Though the young family struggled financially, they found ways to survive—until things took a turn for the worse.

Her husband developed a drinking problem, leading to a tumultuous marriage filled with arguments. Eventually, he took a second wife, leaving Taabo with no choice but to leave. He returned her to her parents on a motorcycle, accompanied by her eight-year-old daughter and their youngest son.

Later, Taabo met another man and became pregnant again, giving birth to another daughter. Unfortunately, this relationship also unraveled when she discovered that he had another wife, whom he had kept hidden. Taabo’s father could not accept the situation and brought her back home, where she now lives with three of her five children: Sifa, Opi, and Bondela. Her two older sons live with their father, and the heartbreak of rarely seeing them weighs heavily on her.

Now, as a single mother, Taabo must support her three children through farming—an almost impossible task for a woman alone in her community.

Her story is a poignant reminder of the struggles faced by many young people in the area, often without the opportunity to finish their education. Many leave rural life seeking better prospects in cities, only to find even harsher conditions and temptations.

To support young people like Taabo, we have formed a new group in Amanipi, focusing on the “4Pillars” initiative. This program provides guidance for two years, helping participants cultivate a piece of land—approximately half a hectare—for their own use. Members will assist those with physical disabilities, and the farming will include both seasonal and permanent crops like coffee, bananas, and eucalyptus. Spiritual guidance will also be a key aspect, featuring prayer meetings and Bible readings.

Taabo is excited about the 4Pillars program. Even without a partner, she can now grow enough food for her family while also saving money for her children’s education. She’s currently weeding her peanut crop, which she planted without plowing the field. Looking ahead, she hopes to plant maize, beans, peanuts, and cassava, and she dreams of cultivating coffee and eucalyptus on her family’s land, secure in the knowledge it will always be hers.

Taabo is thrilled to be part of this new initiative, aimed specifically at young people like her. She hopes to unlock all the secrets of the 4Pillars and dreams of a brighter future. Her aspirations include earning enough from farming to buy a motorcycle for easier product sales and, most importantly, being a good mother. She wants her children to never experience hunger and to have ample opportunities for education while nurturing their faith in Christ.

When asked if she would consider remarrying, her answer is a resolute “no.” She believes that marriage would mean losing her children, and she is determined to protect her family.

Taabo’s courage is admirable, and we pray that the 4Pillar method will support her in providing for her family and realizing her dreams. We extend those prayers to all members of the new 4Pillars group in Amanipi.

Mother-superior Celestine

Sister Célestine lives in Isiro, the provincial capital, about 450 km to the west. During a visit to the parish in our area, she looks at fields that have been planted according to the 4Pijler method. Célestine is immediately interested. A week later she sends her nephew to follow practical training. In Isiro she now also wants to work with the 4Pijler method. This is a good reason for us to travel to the provincial capital. The Catholic sisters receive us generously in their guest house with three substantial meals a day. We are guests with them for three days. Celestine is an educated woman. She teaches law at the university and speaks impeccable French. As Mother Superior and leader of the convent of nuns, she is responsible for the agricultural projects of her parish. This is a 65-hectare site in the wooded area of Isiro. She wants to apply the 4Pijler method throughout this area. What a fantastic promotion of our work!

In Isiro we present the 4 Pillars in different churches with a seminar and practical training. We pay a visit to the provincial minister of agriculture. The 4Pillar method is well received by him. So much so that he and his private guard join us on a field visit. The gouvernour’s agricultural advisor is also there. They follow the explanation Roelof gives with interest. Celestine is there with some of the nuns and interested people from different churches. Roelof shows how to plant in non-ploughed soil. And does a small test for the acidity and composition of the soil. The minister and the advisor are on the nose. Sister Celestine keeps the atmosphere going with a spontaneous song about the 4Pillars.

Mungbere is on the route to Isiro. The people here had repeatedly asked us to come. On the way there, we will spend a few days with Church leaders and conduct seminars and hands-on training. Mungbere is located in the middle of the tropical rainforest. We sleep in the deacon’s house, a cabin with a canopy. The deacon’s wife is very proud that we have come to sleep in her house. In the evening, a bucket of warm water puts down for us to wash with.

The people can only work very small pieces of land. It is hard work to cut down a piece of jungle for agriculture. The first year you can grow well on it, but then the weeds start to proliferate. That is another reason to develop the next piece of forest and so it goes on. With the 4Pijler method people can continue to grow on a piece of land and the rainforest is spared. There is a lot of interest in the seminar with representatives from all different churches.

The journey to Isiro and back is an adventure in itself. Because our car is still not running, we take the Congolese public transport. We have no problems on the way to Mungbere. Then it starts. After two nights in Mungbere we want to continue to Isiro. We look for a bus or a taxi, but they don’t drive, it eventually becomes the motorcycle taxi. Roelof and I each on the back of a moped over 140 kilometers. After 5 hours of driving, a lot of dust, heat and fatigue, we arrive at the sisters in Isiro.

On the way back we have better luck: a bus goes close to Lanza! Everything goes smoothly all morning. Then the bus suddenly stops, in the middle of the jungle. What is going on? We take a look and see that the bridge is damaged. What now? Someone has already cut a tree from the forest with a chainsaw. Now the log must be towed to the bridge. All passengers on the bus work with all their might. They are working on it all afternoon. Little by little he comes closer. Ultimately, the gap is closed.

We can drive again. I get on the bus optimistically while most people are still outside to see how things are going. The joy does not last long, after a few meters it goes wrong. The bus deviates too much to the right, slips into the ditch and capsizes. There it hangs, stuck in the mud. Several attempts to pull it out fail. It is now dark. We will have to spend the night here, the driver announces. This is a night we will not soon forget. Sitting crookedly, 10 long hours, waiting for the morning. The Congolese accept it all resignedly. This is just part of the deal when you are traveling … The atmosphere in the bus remains good, even jokes are made. Then it finally becomes light and help arrives. The bus comes loose and here we go again. Without further delay we arrive home.