by Mark J. Wood
Mondiant has spent his life as a refugee. With some luck he made it to New York, where he now feels a responsibility to all those who are still refugees.
In the back of a New York restaurant in 2018, Mondiant Dogon, a refugee born in the eastern part of The Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), found himself on a the receiving end of an offer he never thought we’d come: a grant of citizenship, and a passport, from Rwandan President Paul Kagame.
President Kagame, himself once a refugee in Uganda, had come to speak at the annual United Nations General Assembly. Mondiant wanted to tell the president about the difficulties refugees face in the camps and how Rwanda could better assist. He began by telling the story of him and his family in the DRC.
“Kagame did not speak much, he asked questions and listened attentively” Mondiant says
When Kagame made the offer of citizenship at the end of dinner, Mondiant was shocked.
“It was all I ever wanted,” he says. “To have a passport meant everything. It would allow me to travel and have a good job.”
And yet, he turned down the one thing he desperately wished for.
“There are a lot of people like me. I had to think about the other people who were refugees in Gihembe (the refugee camp he grew up in) who don’t have citizenship…everyone needs a home.”
Mondiant didn’t hesitate to give up what might have been his only chance at citizenship; he was focused on helping the greater number of stateless people who remained in refugee camps, and didn’t want to resolve his own predicament without changing policy for his fellows.
Mondiant an ethnic Tutsi, was born in Bikeneke, a village in the North Kivu Province. Here, his family lived a simple life. They worked the land growing crops like sugarcane and tended to the cattle.There is a paradox in North Kivu province. It is rich in natural resources such as gold, diamonds and colton, but has been plagued with violence and conflict for more than two decades, including being at the epicenter of the Ebola outbreak.
Mondiant was only three years old when his family had to flee to neighboring Rwanda in 1995. They trekked through the forest to avoid being attacked and went days without adequate food. His younger sister Patience died.
Like many families who found refuge in Rwanda at the Gihembe camp, Modiant and his family hoped to one day return to the DRC, but the persistent violence made it impossible to move back. The refugee camp which was supposed to be temporary became his permanent home.
As the sun rose every morning, refugees carried yellow water drums to fetch water for cooking and cleaning. Mothers with babies on their backs, balancing drums full of water on their head, walk with apparent ease. Other women carried firewood with a similar poise. Young boys deemed old enough shared the load, struggling together to carry the water drums. Their mahogany glistened limbs in the morning sunrise struggle to bring back water before they head out to school. This was the start of the day’s labor in Gihembe refugee camp.
“Life in a refugee camp is not easy,” Modiant explained. “You live in a mud hut, you share everything, even your bed, it’s very busy. My house was like an African market with lots of people.”
He carried on, “there are no opportunities, you spend half the day cooking beans over firewood. At the time when you are young you don’t see it as a tough life, you just see it as your life.”
In refugee camps, temptations to steal or be lured into things you might have otherwise not have done are common. Young boys are particularly susceptible.
“I was a child soldier for three years; I was about 12 years old when I was recruited. You know, it was hard being in the bush, but I didn’t have many options.”
Modiant and other child soldiers, recruited by the rebels, were forced into harm’s way. Bullets would whistle overhead as he and others prepared to bring dead bodies and ammunition back to their commanding officers. He takes no pride in this chapter of his life. Even recalling it years later, Mondiant has a forlorn look on his face. Reflecting on his actions, his voice becomes somber as he describes the torment of war. Perplexed. Ashamed. Hurt. Hurt, that his youth which had already witnessed more suffrage than most do in a lifetime, was yet again stolen and tainted by the mud and blood of the battlefields in eastern Congo. These scars weigh heavy on his heart. They are a part of him which he can never erase.
After witnessing the horrors of war, he decided to leave and go back into the camp to focus on school. He developed a love for writing poems and later he began writing the stories of women who faced horrible ordeals of violence. He found writing therapeutic and would often end the lines of each stanza in his poems ‘those we throw away are diamonds’. This line would years
later become the title of his book “Those we throw away are diamonds: a refugee’s search for home,” written with Jenna Krajeski, who also helped bring to light the harrowing story of Nadia Murad.
Through a sequence of fortunate events whilst working as an interpreter for an American doing research in Rwanda, Mondiant made contact with a nonprofit in the US, which led him to get a sponsor to do a masters degree in education at New York University (NYU), where he graduated in 2019.
His time at NYU was eye-opening. He got to meet and converse with people from different parts of the world, and hear about their cultures and life stories. Lectures at NYU were a reality check on how out of touch aspiring policymakers are with the problems on the ground. He recalled taking one class on the UN and Human Rights. His life since the age of 3 has involved the UN. Through its various agencies, the UN helped feed him, educate him and shelter him. The UN headquarters is located in Turtle Bay, along Manhattan’s East River. Officials who have worked for the organization for many years are said to be ‘part of the system’ – they’re the ones who understand its limitations, its constraints, and its flaws. As a refugee Mondiant was also part of this system. For over 20 years he was on the receiving end of the limitations, constraints, and flaws in the UN system.
In his class on UN and human rights when the topic was based on a case of a woman who was assaulted in the DRC one of his fellow students asked, “why didn’t she just call 911?”
“Can you believe that”, he said as he shook his head, seeming more disappointed than frustrated at the naivety of the comment.
“This is a grown woman at NYU, who may one day work for the UN asking why a lady in the bush in Congo didn’t call 911.”
His disappointment is evident. He wonders the suffering of the world can be less if these are out of touch with reality comments aspiring ‘do-gooders’ are making.
A man in constant thought, comparing two worlds. A tale of two stories. America, the land of opportunity and prosperity, where the ‘American dream’ is possible, juxtaposed to Refugee camps not only in Rwanda but across the world, one of hardship, one where it is hard to dream past tomorrow. Modiant wondered how he got so lucky to be in America, when there were others who he deemed smarter but didn’t get the chance. This back and forth is evident
in his eyes. In his voice. In the pace in which he articulates a life in Rwanda as a refugee and one in America.
“We are all the same in Africa,” he said. In many parts of Southern Africa culture and values are very similar, with its origins coming from the Bantu people. This, based on his experience, seems to bother him. Based on where you are born you have access to resources and opportunities other people do not have. Your geographic location is the benchmark that determines the cards life will deal to you. Being born in the DRC, life handed Mondiant and many others a hard hand.
“Imagine there was no such thing as a border,” he said with a heavy sigh. His language echoes the lyrics of John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’: imagine there’s no countries, it isn’t hard to do…
Today, Mondiant remains stateless. No country to call home. No passport. Whenever he travels, he carries documentation from the United Nations Refugee Agency stating he’s stateless. This sometimes makes his entry into a country longer, with immigration officials handing him more questions than they would the average person. Mondiant does not get frustrated by this, he is accustomed to it.
His story is that of about 10 million stateless people across the world. The camp Mondiant grew up in will close next year. The Kenyan government announced the closure of two of its largest camps by next year, Dadaab and Kakuma which have refugees predominantly from Somalia and South Sudan. These temporary homes, which many need, will disappear. The number of stateless people will remain, their opportunities limited.
Mondiant plans to change this; to create a foundation where refugee children have access to good education, where adults can learn skills that will give them a sustainable income. He knows his story is similar to those still in camps. He understands what they are going through. He sees himself in the little boys running around barefoot kicking a football made from plastic bags. He knows he has an opportunity – or what he may consider an obligation – to help those who were not as lucky as he is. The way Mondiant sees it, there are diamonds in those refugee camps that should not be thrown away.
To whom much is given, much is expected. Mondiant has been given a golden opportunity. His friends and family back in Rwanda expect him to get a good job and to help out. He knows this and says the expectations do not bother him or weigh heavily on him. It’s no pressure. He has an innate sense of wanting to help others and lessen the burdens they carry.