And then, the transfiguration: I am the happiest woman in the world. I am so blessed. I know my rights. Women have rights. I learned to read. I learned to write. I can assess the value of my small goods to ask a fair price for them. I received a small loan to buy fabric. I sew now to earn a decent living. I can calculate my profit so I can manage my finances. I save a bit and I use my capital to expand my business. I learned about nutrition. I know how to eat. Vegetables are important; I know where to get them. Look at me, I am clean! I use soap. I use lotion. My children eat three meals a day. My husband and I are partners now. I have rights in the household. I have a voice. I keep my pamphlet which describes my rights in my pocket, it is with me at all times. I was able to save enough to buy a small plot of land. I have my own home. I built my home. I am saving for my home. I was able to get back two plots of my dead husband’s land and I sold them for a profit. My soul opened up. A new woman was born inside of me. I use the money W4W gave me to pay the fees for my daughter to go to school. In my culture, no girl ever went to school but mine do now. The woman who recruited me would not recognize me today. I thank God. I space my births by at least three years. I am at peace. I am empowered. I live a respectable life. I have dignity. I have worth. I harassed all the governors so much, they were sick of seeing me; they would not give me back my land, but eventually they did. I joined another women’s rights group and they elected me their leader.

Their stories are unbelievable, each woman a Congolese Lazarus, nothing short of an absolute and total miracle. As we listened, the group made clucking and groaning noises of recognition, and would burst into applause at a particularly heightened expression of empowerment. When the entire group finished, we talked in more detail about sexual exploitation, rape, HIV, malaria and unsafe water. Each woman had personally had malaria, yet strangely, not a single one slept under a net last night. Half had babies that died from it. Most “knew” (perhaps they spoke of themselves) someone who had been raped. A few knew her HIV status, and again, strangely, only one was using modern birth control.

I was able during this round-table dialogue to complement W4W’s extraordinary work by giving reproductive health, safe water and malaria lessons. For example, I explained that one can become pregnant 31 days of the month! Most said they only used birth control during the “dangerous” times. We talked about injectable birth control as long lasting and safe, but how they needed to use a condom each time to protect from HIV (all did have good perception of their HIV risk). We discussed the female condom as a discreet option, though most said they could negotiate a condom with their husbands, as fine a tribute as possible to W4W. I told them about my recovery buddy, and asked if they would be willing to make a commitment with a friend to buy long-lasting insecticide-treated mosquito nets; they gave their word to one another and committed to following up … today! All raised their hands and said they would begin sleeping under a net immediately. “Imagine how you would feel,” I said, “if you had to write your sponsor that you had missed your W4W graduation with a case of malaria! You came here to learn how never to neglect yourself … so step up and protect yourself from malaria!" (Congo’s children account for one in 20 malaria deaths worldwide; these great women lose their productivity if they are sick with preventable diseases.)