​In 2009, I lived with my family in a village called Baraka in Congo. We were a family of five: my father, my mother, and my two younger brothers, Omari and Eddy. My father did not take care of the family. Instead, we depended on my mother to do odd jobs or farm so that we could eat and have clothes. My father loved a life of leisure and was a drunkard. He never left any money for our needs.

One day, my mother went out to look for work but returned with nothing. We went to bed horribly hungry, without eating anything at all. While we were sleeping, my father returned home. He started banging on the door violently, demanding to be let in. My mother got up and went to open the door for him. He shouted, demanding food. When she told him there was none, he insulted and beat her. He yelled. He threatened to leave us. I felt horrible seeing my mother like this. When morning came, my father left. We had no idea where he went.
 

Soon after, my mother became very ill, sick from the beating she had received from my father. There was no one to help us. I had to start looking for money for food and my mother’s recovery. The day I set out in search of work, I was turned away because I was still young, but I didn’t give up. My family’s suffering gave me the strength to keep searching. God helped me, and soon after I found someone who hired me to farm for them. They paid me very little, but it was enough to buy some sugar so that my siblings could drink porridge.
 

My younger siblings stopped going to school because there was no money for school fees. I felt like the world was collapsing on me. When I walked by, people would laugh at me because of my tattered clothes. I walked through the streets begging for help. Some people gave me assistance, but others insulted me or called me a thief because of how I looked. I became like an orphan, even though I had a father and a mother.
 

When my clothes tore, I would take some sack string and a knife, and I would cut and sew them back together with the string. Many nights, I would stay up crying. The days passed. We continued to suffer. 
 

One night, seven months after my father beat her, my mother’s condition worsened. That very night, we rushed her to the hospital. When we arrived, the doctors told us that we needed to pay for her treatment. She also had many thoughts about how we would survive, because she was not well. These thoughts eventually led her to have a heart attack.

My heart ached deeply. I was overwhelmed by the suffering we were enduring. I felt I had no other options. I made up my mind to try stealing.
 

Walking through the market a few days later, I saw a man holding money in his hand, and he had left some on the seat of his car, which he hadn’t properly locked. My mind tempted me to take the money that was in the car. This was my chance! But my heart resisted. 

I went back and forth. I thought about where I could possibly get the money to pay for my mother’s treatment. I was stuck. I needed to save her. I decided to take it. Just as I was reaching through the car window to take the money, I heard people shouting, ‘Thief!’ I panicked and dropped the money. I ran. When I was running I fell, and when I fell they caught me. Then they started beating me. 
 

I begged for forgiveness. I pleaded ‘I am not a thief. Please forgive me. Please let me go.’
 

The man whose money I had tried to take came and told the angry crowd to leave me alone. He looked me in the eye and spoke to me. I felt immense relief when I heard him call me ‘my child’, and I cried tears of joy. He told me, ‘I will help pay for your mother’s hospital treatment, and I will pay for your siblings’ education, but under one condition.’ 

‘What is the condition?’ I asked.  
 

He replied, ‘I want you all to be like my children because I have no child, and my wife passed away.’ I felt like God had sent me an angel. I thanked him profusely and accepted his offer. I was so happy. 
 

*
 

One night, when my mother was home from the hospital and we were sitting together, just the two of us,  I told her that there were things I wanted to know more about. She asked me, ‘What are the things you want to know?’ I told her that I wanted to understand what suffering is and what happiness is as well. My mother told me that just as I had once experienced, suffering can push you to do things you never expected to do. 
 

My mother explained, ‘Sometimes, God can give you suffering so that you learn a certain lesson. Suffering is something you can never get used to.’ She continued, ‘but it is important to thank God for everything and fight through our problems, only then will we find happiness.’
 

After sharing her thoughts that evening, my mother told me she was ready to go to sleep. I told her, ‘But I am still not satisfied, mother.’
 

Then she said, ‘Before I go to sleep, let me give you one last piece of advice. You can never have peace or happiness if you are not satisfied. Peace and contentment in your soul will give you lasting happiness.’ I found peace in the depths of my suffering and in the love I have for my mother.