A boat. A UN helicopter. Months of persistence. And women who refused to let other women be forgotten.

There is so much news I could share with you from these past weeks. But I need to tell you this story.

Because somewhere in the Haut Plateau of eastern Democratic Republic of Congo, a girl gets her period whether bombs are falling or not.

That is the part of war we rarely talk about.

For years, Hero Women Rising and Mama Shujaa have made washable, reusable menstrual hygiene kits for women and adolescent girls. A kit can last up to three years. For a girl who might otherwise miss school during her period, that kit can give her back a week of her life every month.

Think about that. When you are an adolescent girl, those weeks are part of your future.

We had thousands of kits ready in Bukavu. The problem was getting them to the women and girls who needed them.

I had been trying since October 2024. War and restrictions on access to the Haut Plateau made transportation extraordinarily difficult. I spoke with humanitarian officials, government representatives, and anyone I thought might be able to help. At one point, the Red Cross explored possibilities. Then an aircraft carrying aid into Minembwe was attacked, and that possibility disappeared.

Still, we kept asking. And we kept making kits.

Then, in August, an opportunity finally opened.

The United Nations had a logistical mission traveling to Minembwe. I contacted a senior UN official in DRC with whom I had been speaking and asked again: Could our kits go? She said yes.

The next morning, I was sitting in church in the United States when my phone rang. A UN representative told me arrangements had been made to transport the kits on an upcoming helicopter mission.

Now we had another problem.

We had to move 1,000 kits—more than 650 pounds—from Bukavu to Goma, and we had to move them quickly.

I called Jeanne Namunezero, our Director of Operations. It was already Sunday evening in Congo. Jeanne didn't hesitate.

Early Monday, she pulled the team together. They packed 1,000 kits into ten heavy-duty sacks, loaded them onto a rented truck, and took them to the port. Jeanne then traveled with the shipment by boat across Lake Kivu from Bukavu to Goma. In Goma, the UN team received them.

Tuesday morning, those sacks were loaded onto a UN helicopter.

And then came the message I had waited so long to receive:

The kits had reached Minembwe.

And the women came.

Our staff and women leaders were waiting when the helicopter landed. As those enormous sacks came off, women began gathering.

Then more women.

And more.

Our team had planned to take the kits back to our office before distribution. Forget that. The women were already lining up.

So, our staff set up right there and began. Within hours, all 1,000 kits were gone. I wish I could tell you that was simply a joyful moment.

It wasn't.

Yes, there was tremendous joy among the women and girls who received a kit. They knew what these kits meant. Over the years, we have distributed more than 10,000 of them to women and girls from communities across this isolated region. But then there were the women still standing in line when the last kit was handed out. Women who had endured displacement and lived with the fear of violence. Girls whose bodies had not stopped being girls' bodies simply because they were living through war.

They still menstruate.

They still need dignity.

And we had to tell some of them, not today.

That stays with me.

Messages began arriving afterward. Some women wrote to say thank you. Others were crying because they hadn't received a kit.

And this is why I wanted you to know this story.

It took the United Nations, a truck, a three-hour boat journey, a helicopter, our staff on the ground and months of refusing to give upto deliver menstrual hygiene supplies to 1,000 women and girls.

And do you know something else?

A woman inside the United Nations helped make it happen.

That matters to me.

Women need to be in the rooms where decisions are made because women often see needs that others simply do not see. Sometimes those needs aren't dramatic enough to make anyone's priority list. But they can determine whether a girl goes to school, whether a new mother has basic dignity, or whether a woman living through war feels that someone still sees her.

We still have more humanitarian aid sitting at our Mama Shujaa Center, waiting for a safe way to reach people who need it. More menstrual kits are among those supplies. The women are there. The supplies are ready. We need the means to connect the two. And we will keep trying.

To everyone around the world who has helped us do this work: thank you. Your generosity is already sitting in those boxes, sewn into those kits and carried into places most of you will never see.

There is more work ahead.

And perhaps one day the Secretary-General of the United Nations will be a woman.

Can you imagine what that might look like?

I can.

Much love,

Neema

P.S. If this story moved you, please help us move the next shipment. Your gift to Hero Women Rising helps us continue reaching women and girls in eastern DRC.

And if you're in Atlanta, join us for our 2026 Impact Luncheon on October 6.  Visit HeroWomenRising.org to learn more, give, or reserve your seat.