BAUSI

well-known in DR Congo by my stage name,

B l a c k m a n B a u s i

I was born in a conflict zone and grew up surrounded by violence of all kinds. I am also the fruit of violence as I was conceived by rape. My mother struggled to love me and as I grew up, the cultural stigma of a child born from rape became my identity. They say a problem gives rise to a solution, I was able to use my pain, anger and grief to respond to the stigma of my existence. Discovering I had a gift to express myself through writing and rapping, my identity began to change. My value came from my character and gifting rather than from the violence of my conception and what I had known since birth. I was determined to use my voice to make a positive impact in my community. Encouraging my fellow Congolese and motivating our society towards healthy change became my passion. People began to call me “the voice for the voiceless''. A mentor taught me to value what I have, so it will give me what I want. Once I was reserved and ashamed because of my story, but today I am confident in who I am and I speak out against injustice and the suffering of my people.

Because of these many atrocities in my region, I write songs that call for peace and an end to injustice; fighting violence against women, calling for resolution of the many conflicts in our country, calling out the government officials who hold on to power against the constitution, and the many social injustices in Africa; the DRC in particular. My commitment to speak out against corruption made my name written on the hearts of my people.

More recently, I recorded a song condemning the governmental attacks on a peaceful Catholic protest. Women, children, men and priests were viciously attacked and beaten. Unfortunately, a local Goma man referring to himself as a “pastor”, who made a name for himself by bullying others, was making fun of the Catholics beaten in this protest. I could not sit idly by and allow this man to spew such horrible evil towards the innocent who simply and peacefully wanted change in our government. I recorded a song exposing his heretical¹ views and the hate² he openly pontificates over the radio and from his pulpit. This man also has close ties to the President of Congo. He began to threaten my safety on the radio, then with phone calls to me personally, and finally by sending thugs to intimidate me on the street and even at my house.

February 8th, 2018 around 6pm, I headed home after a meeting. Out front of my house, I met a man who called himself Sadamu. He was cordial and said he was honored to meet me in person. He paid me many compliments and asked if I ever worked in the MASISI³ territory. I answered that unfortunately I am not yet working in that area. He continued, “you are an Akon⁴ in this part of the province and I want to produce a festival with you, which aims to resolve conflicts specifically in MASISI”. Personally, I have a vision to work and promote peace in this region; I was very interested in this for future work. I briefly explained my interest but not for the near future. He asked about my plans for the evening. Naively, I told him I had an interview on the radio at 8pm to promote my new single and needed to leave soon. He asked, and I regrettably gave him the name of the radio where my interview would take place. He requested 30 minutes with me before discussing a few additional details. I agreed.

Around 7:00pm I called Archip Romeo, the backup singer for my new single exposing the pastor, to go with me to the radio station. We had dinner together to discuss the interview and then took motorbikes to the station. Upon Arrival near the radio station, we met Sadamu, waiting for us on the street. I remember he said “Blackman, you're a big star, and it’s not safe for you to walk or take motos”. He suggested we talk in his car and then he will drop us off directly in front of the radio station.

Upon entering the vehicle, we realized two men in presidential guard uniforms were in the very back seats. Suddenly, they grabbed us from behind, putting something on our nostrils with chemicals to which we lost consciousness. When I came to, I found my eyes blindfolded, mouth gagged, and my hands were bound behind me to my feet. I tried to talk through my nose to know if Romeo was still alive. Eventually he answered me through his nose. After a long time the soldiers came back.

They ungagged our mouths only to ask us questions:

“Who is behind you to insult the President of the Republic?”

“Who is behind you to insult the pastor of god?”

I replied, I did not insult either the president of the republic nor the pastor.

They held our heads under water for long moments and asked

“Who is behind you to produce these nonsense songs?”

I replied, since I am a leader I do not need people to pay me to produce what I am called to do.

They did not accept my answers, they punched me many times on the side of my head and all over. Beating ensued on both of us, then they stripped us naked and forced copious amounts of homemade hard alcohol down our throats. Again, they asked the question of “Who is behind you?”. The interrogators inquired about governmental opponents, the Catholic Church⁵, and any other “backing” we could possibly have. I replied again, “No one is behind us”. They put recorders near us to record any word that would come out of our mouths.

The torture continued day and night for 3 days. They continued to hold our heads under water for prolonged periods of time, stomped on our backs, kicked and beat our lower extremities, urinated on us, even in my mouth. They used guns to intimidate us. During those 3 days, we were forced to swallow very strong drinks that smelled horrible. We were not given food or water. Guns were put to our heads.

On the last day they put us into a vehicle, naked, blindfolded, gagged and still bound by our hands to our feet. We drove for a long time. In my heart I was thinking of Job⁶, he believed God would redeem him even in the worst possible scenarios. I was trying to believe the same outcome for myself and Romeo. I was shaking but trying to stay focused and positive. I was encouraged by the story of Daniel⁶ who was saved after God shut the mouth of lions, and prayed God would save us too in some miraculous way.

There were moments of weakness where I became very upset thinking “This is really the end. I’m going to die soon. Who is going to tell the woman I love what has happened? Who is going to take care of her?...” Despair and the lies in my mind of my death were hard to fight off. I began thinking of my family, my best friend who I hoped to marry one day and even my fans- the people I defended in my music… would I ever see them again. After a very long journey in the car with the criminals, they dragged us out onto the ground and into the bush. There they told us to “pray for the last time”. I heard them load a gun and cock the trigger. I began to tremble. In my heart I was praying, “Oh! My Creator! please fight for me”. Seconds later I heard the guard who told us to pray answer his phone, he moved away from us when he spoke, but I still heard “Can I eliminate them?” After a few more moments, I heard a car start and I thought for sure they would shoot us as they drove off. They are going to use us for target practice from a distance.

Truly, they left us there for dead. We were in the bush alone, naked, shivering and shaking- still bound, blindfolded and gagged so that we couldn’t even scream. After a while a wild dog (maybe Hyena?) came, I had no idea what it was initially and only imagined it was an animal that would hurt us even more. It began to bark viciously, and with that, the instinct to defend myself and Romeo against this threat brought me to loosen the gag in my mouth by struggling severely against the tight binding. Finally, I was able to scream out in a loud voice, scaring the dog away and yelling ”Come save us!!! It's me, Blackman!! my countrymen!! Come save us!!” I cried out for hours. No one came. I passed out.

It was around 5:00am when people who live in the area finally came to see us. Two of them said they listened to my voice all night and they didn’t think they could help us as we were dropped into a very dangerous area with wild animals, rebels and criminals; where people are often executed. Thankfully, a kind woman brought us clothes. Soon a large number of people came. We were so weak we could hardly move. We were coming in and out of consciousness from dehydration and intoxication. The crowd around us continued to grow and people began filming us as we laid there against a house. My legs were badly beaten and I could not stand or walk. Our rescuers coordinated for motorcycles to take us back to Goma⁷ to the Heal Africa hospital⁸.

Word of our recovery began to spread quickly. Outside the hospital more than 5000 people had gathered to see us. Over the 4 days we were missing, thousands of people took to the streets in protest to strike and demand their “voice” back. Tires were lit on fire to block the roads, and masses gathered outside of government buildings and even the church of the corrupt “pastor” to demand our return. As we came to the hospital there were local, national and some international press- including TV5.RFI and France 24. Several local and international organizations, as well as much of the local population, had been involved in searching for us. During our stay in Heal Africa, security was hard to control. Government officials began to threaten us in the hospital with aggressive interviews even though we were in ICU and doctors gave explicit orders to leave us alone. Many fans wanted to come in to see us. I could hear them chanting my name outside the hospital walls. But, it was very unsafe for us as we didn’t know who would still want to try and hurt us. It was also difficult for the hospital security to deal with the crowds.

Prompt arrangements were made for us to find asylum in the MONUSCO Goma hospital. We were transferred there and locked down with no visitors, for our own safety. The Congolese government arrested the corrupt pastor; his very public threats against my life made him the prime suspect in our kidnapping. This was also done most likely to satisfy public outcry and other human rights defenders that wanted immediate involvement of justice. However, after just two months, the government decided to drop charges against the suspected pastor without following judicial procedures. The prosecutor for our case was fired for working on our behalf. We lived in hiding in our own country for a few weeks before we were able to arrange safe passage out of Congo.

Now we are refugees outside of our country, and even though we are free, we are not truly free. We live always looking over our shoulders. I have received numerous threats on whatsapp from Congolese special police to let me know they will find me and kill me. The trauma of my kidnapping is far from over. The fight continues.

…Today Black is alive and well and intentionally living a life of forgiveness, especially for those who have caused him harm and tried to kill him. And yes, the fight continues. He is still the voice of the voiceless; the microphone of the people. Speaking for those who cannot speak for themselves; to pursue justice for the defenseless, poor and oppressed. IT IS A CALL FOR PEACE.

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