How to eat chikwangue
Step 1: Buy chikwangue wrapped in leaf. Step 2: Unwrap leaf. Step 3: Cut and enjoy with Pili Pili
How to eat mbika
Step 1: Buy mbika wrapped in leaf. Step 2: Enjoy
October 31, 2005
How to eat
How to eat chikwangue
Step 1: Buy chikwangue wrapped in leaf. Step 2: Unwrap leaf. Step 3: Cut and enjoy with Pili Pili
How to eat mbika
Step 1: Buy mbika wrapped in leaf. Step 2: Enjoy
The view from inside our dark workshop room. Needless to say, it was hard to concentrate on the topics discussed.
Beautiful, intricate church in the middle of the Bas-Congo
By the end of our trip, our little bus was transformed into Pondu (Manioc leaves) heaven...
But our load was not as impressive as this guy's whose bags were packed higher than the size of the entire car
October 24, 2005
Bumbo Lumene
The steep climb to the bridge
Rickety bridge itself
View of our Camp Ground
A cluster of butterfly on the shallow end of the river
Enchanted forest maybe?
Heaven and Hell are just 150 km apart
After driving for hours in the heat of Congo, in a large Jeep with no A/C, slaloming between dozens of broken down trucks gesturing for us to stop, paying a couple of bribes or two or three, we get to Bumbo Lumene. Paradise.
The camping is exquisitely well tended to by the Government (admittedly, one just has to brush the camp grounds and add a few twigs to the bridge--but still, I'm impressed).
I am not joking this is what we did:
-sat on rocks jutting from the river surrounded by fluttering butterflies
-cooked a pretty damn good BBQ with minimal effort (two workers started the fire for us)
-jumped at the top of the tributary, let ourselves be guided by the strong current, only to be gently deposited on a small beach... 10 times a day for two days
-crossed the rickety bridge squealing in fear every time and acting like Indiana Jones
-read the New Yorker on a pania while listening to the bubbling of the river nearby
-got woken up in the middle of the night by a loud AAAAAHHHHHH and wondered for two hours what the f*&# that was and thinking "What the f*$# am I doing camping in Congo, I could be killed by a madman with a machete" (somehow that was a lot scarier than being killed by a madman in the states with a gun--the shout turned out to be a fellow camper having a bad dream)
-washed dishes with the remainder of the ashes from the fire
-walked in a spooky forest of gnarled trees
-climbed a steep plain to see what was on the other side, only to give up after a little too much sweating
Ah, heaven!
The drive back was utter hell again--though we did see the bridge that was blown up by Mobutu to prevent Kabila from reaching the capital. How can Heaven and Hell be separated by only 150 km?
For another account by a fellow camper, check out Because We're Here
*************
Thanks Hasnain for posting on my GuestMap! How goes it in India?
The camping is exquisitely well tended to by the Government (admittedly, one just has to brush the camp grounds and add a few twigs to the bridge--but still, I'm impressed).
I am not joking this is what we did:
-sat on rocks jutting from the river surrounded by fluttering butterflies
-cooked a pretty damn good BBQ with minimal effort (two workers started the fire for us)
-jumped at the top of the tributary, let ourselves be guided by the strong current, only to be gently deposited on a small beach... 10 times a day for two days
-crossed the rickety bridge squealing in fear every time and acting like Indiana Jones
-read the New Yorker on a pania while listening to the bubbling of the river nearby
-got woken up in the middle of the night by a loud AAAAAHHHHHH and wondered for two hours what the f*&# that was and thinking "What the f*$# am I doing camping in Congo, I could be killed by a madman with a machete" (somehow that was a lot scarier than being killed by a madman in the states with a gun--the shout turned out to be a fellow camper having a bad dream)
-washed dishes with the remainder of the ashes from the fire
-walked in a spooky forest of gnarled trees
-climbed a steep plain to see what was on the other side, only to give up after a little too much sweating
Ah, heaven!
The drive back was utter hell again--though we did see the bridge that was blown up by Mobutu to prevent Kabila from reaching the capital. How can Heaven and Hell be separated by only 150 km?
For another account by a fellow camper, check out Because We're Here
*************
Thanks Hasnain for posting on my GuestMap! How goes it in India?
October 21, 2005
The Other Congo
Congo-Brazzaville is a bit of a myth for us living in Congo-Kinshasa. It's a little like the lost Garden of Eden. My colleague who have been there tell me that there are real taxis; life is calm, cool and relaxed; there are roads, landlines and great restaurants. It's a bit of aberration because the two capitals are so close to each other yet so different in term of development. The people are meant to be well behaved and a lot less intense then here. And of course, Brazzaville is a much smaller city than Kinshasa, so there are less people crowding the place.
We often speak of the day when we will organize a weekend trip to famed Brazzaville. One day...one day...
So, in the other Congo, things are happening. The ex-president of the Republic of Congo, Kolelas, is currently living in exile in Bamako, Mali.
Why?
"In 2000, a Brazzaville court sentenced Kolelas to death in absentia for a range of crimes committed by his militia including torture and the rape of prisoners during the nation's bloody 5-month-long civil war in 1997."--CNN.com, October 14th, 2005
Recently though , Kolelas' wife, Jacqueline, died from a brain hemorrhage. The current president Denis Sassou-Nguesso (who got elected in a fair process in 2002) allowed Kolelas to come back from an 8-year exile to bury Jacqueline in Congo-Brazzaville.
But of course, it's a lot more complicated than that because:
Kolelas' return comes amid a sharp escalation of tensions in Brazzaville, where so-called Ninja rebels once loyal to him battled security forces a day earlier in a brief clash that killed six people.
It was not known what sparked the clash or if it was related to Kolelas' impending return.
--CNN.com, Friday October 14th 2005
We were discussing this situation over dinner yesterday and a friend relays that her colleagues exclaimed "We're not surprised this happened, the Congolese over there, they're really crazy"!
We often speak of the day when we will organize a weekend trip to famed Brazzaville. One day...one day...
So, in the other Congo, things are happening. The ex-president of the Republic of Congo, Kolelas, is currently living in exile in Bamako, Mali.
Why?
"In 2000, a Brazzaville court sentenced Kolelas to death in absentia for a range of crimes committed by his militia including torture and the rape of prisoners during the nation's bloody 5-month-long civil war in 1997."--CNN.com, October 14th, 2005
Recently though , Kolelas' wife, Jacqueline, died from a brain hemorrhage. The current president Denis Sassou-Nguesso (who got elected in a fair process in 2002) allowed Kolelas to come back from an 8-year exile to bury Jacqueline in Congo-Brazzaville.
But of course, it's a lot more complicated than that because:
Kolelas' return comes amid a sharp escalation of tensions in Brazzaville, where so-called Ninja rebels once loyal to him battled security forces a day earlier in a brief clash that killed six people.
It was not known what sparked the clash or if it was related to Kolelas' impending return.
--CNN.com, Friday October 14th 2005
We were discussing this situation over dinner yesterday and a friend relays that her colleagues exclaimed "We're not surprised this happened, the Congolese over there, they're really crazy"!
October 20, 2005
Car Wash
This morning, a little old man had cleaned my car assiduously. He rushed over when I came down, bending my wipers back in place to indicate that he'd been working on the windshield last.
I shook my head in apology, explaining that I couldn't pay him and thanks but I didn't ask him to wash my car and that we had someone at work who did that for us and...I fumbled, feeling sorry for him but at the same time didn't feel right giving someone money for a service that he forced upon me.
He had cleaned my car earlier in the week without my prior approval and I gave him money but said that he should never clean it again because I wouldn't pay him next time.
Makes sense doesn't it? Then why do I still feel bad about the whole encounter?
I shook my head in apology, explaining that I couldn't pay him and thanks but I didn't ask him to wash my car and that we had someone at work who did that for us and...I fumbled, feeling sorry for him but at the same time didn't feel right giving someone money for a service that he forced upon me.
He had cleaned my car earlier in the week without my prior approval and I gave him money but said that he should never clean it again because I wouldn't pay him next time.
Makes sense doesn't it? Then why do I still feel bad about the whole encounter?
October 18, 2005
A very interesting Twist
…in the political story of the Congo
I initially thought that Mobutu arrested and killed Prime Minister Lumumba in 1960 solely to fulfill his own ambitions (as the documentary “Mobutu, Roi du Zaire” portraits). Lumumba is a hero of sorts here with a large statue of him that can be seen one the road from the airport to the city centers. As it turns out, the truth is a little bit more complicated than that:
In a surreal sequence the prime minister [Lumumba] and president [Kasavubu, Congo’s lethargic president] announced over the radio that they had sacked each other. Mobutu was put in an impossible position, with both men ordering him to take their rival into custody.
------In the Footstep of Mr. Kurtz by Michela Wong
And then the plot really thickens.
**********************************
Thanks Beaver for repinning from Conakry (so Jealous) and Keli from coming across my site serendipitously (love that word, don't you?)
I initially thought that Mobutu arrested and killed Prime Minister Lumumba in 1960 solely to fulfill his own ambitions (as the documentary “Mobutu, Roi du Zaire” portraits). Lumumba is a hero of sorts here with a large statue of him that can be seen one the road from the airport to the city centers. As it turns out, the truth is a little bit more complicated than that:
In a surreal sequence the prime minister [Lumumba] and president [Kasavubu, Congo’s lethargic president] announced over the radio that they had sacked each other. Mobutu was put in an impossible position, with both men ordering him to take their rival into custody.
------In the Footstep of Mr. Kurtz by Michela Wong
And then the plot really thickens.
**********************************
Thanks Beaver for repinning from Conakry (so Jealous) and Keli from coming across my site serendipitously (love that word, don't you?)
October 17, 2005
Congo and Me
Reflecting on her relationship with the Congo in a cybercafé of the airport, Sahara Sarah writes the following:
it's amazing how the congo is like being in a relationship. not the tom cruise-katie holmes thing. congo and i arent really that luvvy. more like the jude law - sienna miller thing, if jude law were less good looking and had a rocky past. the long and short of it is that it's a bit rocky and won't last forever, but there's definitely a spark.
I couldn't express it better.
it's amazing how the congo is like being in a relationship. not the tom cruise-katie holmes thing. congo and i arent really that luvvy. more like the jude law - sienna miller thing, if jude law were less good looking and had a rocky past. the long and short of it is that it's a bit rocky and won't last forever, but there's definitely a spark.
I couldn't express it better.
Two good documentaries
Amazingly, for somebody who never watches movies, I saw two good documentaries this weekend. Both of them are from Thierry Michel. I saw one of them during a special screening in Kinshasa (who knew that there was a screening room in Congo?) during which Thierry introduced his work. The captain of the ship of one of the documentary was also there at the screening.
I suddenly realized that I had been introduced to Mr. Michel's work before: I saw the shocking "Donka Hospital" during my International Public Health class and sat watching images of a disfunctional hospital in Africa--I didn't know hospitals could be that bad. The ones I see here are far worse.
"Mobutu, Roi du Zaïre"
What happens when Congo fights for its independence, only to have the Belgian government withdraw quickly in 1960, leaving very few skilled and qualified Congolese to lead to country?
A kleptocracy, stupid!
The documentary shows the mind-bogglingly fast rise of Mobutu, from officer in the Belgian army, to journalist invited to the World Fair in Belgium, to General of the Congolese army, to 'President for Life' of the newly renamed Zaïre.
How can someone rise so quickly you ask?
Through cunning and violence. Like the leopard he liked to wear as a hat, Mobutu was sly--associating himself with the highests in command; and carnal--killing without pity those who were in his way. Increasingly megalomaniac, Mobutu built one lavish palace after another, throwing glorious parties in his name. Backed by his unpaid soldiers, the army enforced his rule while serving themselves to the country's riches. Refusing to see the country declining into terror and utter poverty, the 'King of Zaïre' became increasingly frail, paranoid and two-timing.
Seeing him cry on camera though, you almost feel sorry for how deluded this man is. Great interviews by foreign journalists, his Congolese ministers and his son-in-law.
"Congo River"
This second documentary follows a barge and its captain through the easy stretch of the Congo River, carrying almost a small village worth of people and their barnyard animals. Beyond that, waterfalls make the passage inaccessible.
As the barge stops in villages at night and during the day (through endless administrative fees--the only system remaining intact from the Colonial period, ha!), we hear villagers recount the days of colonialism and Mobutu. We see another barge stuck in sandbank for three months and sigh with relief as our barge continues safe and sound. We meet old intellectuals stuck in the middle of the country contemplating the infrastructure abandoned: abandonned train tracks from the Belgian period, electricity towers built 25 years ago with the promise of electricity (the village leader says with a hint of malice "we've been told it's coming soon"), a beautiful botanist university and its lone remaining professor with 55,000 samples of plants and birds decaying and gathering dust, a great crumbling palace belonging to Mobutu ("this reminds me of the arrogance of the man while his people were starving" says a village man) and a poor local hospital performing gynecological surgeries on raped women in the East.
Thierry Michel manages to score a great interview with the Chief Mahi Mahi, whose crazy speeches are laughable and scary at the same time.
I suddenly realized that I had been introduced to Mr. Michel's work before: I saw the shocking "Donka Hospital" during my International Public Health class and sat watching images of a disfunctional hospital in Africa--I didn't know hospitals could be that bad. The ones I see here are far worse.
"Mobutu, Roi du Zaïre"
What happens when Congo fights for its independence, only to have the Belgian government withdraw quickly in 1960, leaving very few skilled and qualified Congolese to lead to country?
A kleptocracy, stupid!
The documentary shows the mind-bogglingly fast rise of Mobutu, from officer in the Belgian army, to journalist invited to the World Fair in Belgium, to General of the Congolese army, to 'President for Life' of the newly renamed Zaïre.
How can someone rise so quickly you ask?
Through cunning and violence. Like the leopard he liked to wear as a hat, Mobutu was sly--associating himself with the highests in command; and carnal--killing without pity those who were in his way. Increasingly megalomaniac, Mobutu built one lavish palace after another, throwing glorious parties in his name. Backed by his unpaid soldiers, the army enforced his rule while serving themselves to the country's riches. Refusing to see the country declining into terror and utter poverty, the 'King of Zaïre' became increasingly frail, paranoid and two-timing.
Seeing him cry on camera though, you almost feel sorry for how deluded this man is. Great interviews by foreign journalists, his Congolese ministers and his son-in-law.
"Congo River"
This second documentary follows a barge and its captain through the easy stretch of the Congo River, carrying almost a small village worth of people and their barnyard animals. Beyond that, waterfalls make the passage inaccessible.
As the barge stops in villages at night and during the day (through endless administrative fees--the only system remaining intact from the Colonial period, ha!), we hear villagers recount the days of colonialism and Mobutu. We see another barge stuck in sandbank for three months and sigh with relief as our barge continues safe and sound. We meet old intellectuals stuck in the middle of the country contemplating the infrastructure abandoned: abandonned train tracks from the Belgian period, electricity towers built 25 years ago with the promise of electricity (the village leader says with a hint of malice "we've been told it's coming soon"), a beautiful botanist university and its lone remaining professor with 55,000 samples of plants and birds decaying and gathering dust, a great crumbling palace belonging to Mobutu ("this reminds me of the arrogance of the man while his people were starving" says a village man) and a poor local hospital performing gynecological surgeries on raped women in the East.
Thierry Michel manages to score a great interview with the Chief Mahi Mahi, whose crazy speeches are laughable and scary at the same time.
October 14, 2005
Happy Birthday Mobutu!
Today is my and your favorite ex-leader's birthday! Let's all give a nice, warm shout-out to Mobutu!
Actual conversation I had with a Congolese colleague:
Colleague 1: "Today is Mobutu's birthday"
Me (in mock horror): "How could we have forgotten?"
Colleague 1: "One forgets quickly"
Laughs all around
Colleague 2: "It used to be a day off though"
Photo and Caption from Wikipedia: Mobutu's portrait appeared on every banknote
A few links for background information:
Mobutu Sese Seko
Mobutu dies in Exile in Morocco
Country Profiles: DRC
Actual conversation I had with a Congolese colleague:
Colleague 1: "Today is Mobutu's birthday"
Me (in mock horror): "How could we have forgotten?"
Colleague 1: "One forgets quickly"
Laughs all around
Colleague 2: "It used to be a day off though"
Photo and Caption from Wikipedia: Mobutu's portrait appeared on every banknote
A few links for background information:
Mobutu Sese Seko
Mobutu dies in Exile in Morocco
Country Profiles: DRC
October 13, 2005
Marsha Marsha Marsha!
Here you go boy and girls, I have updated my blog links to include some more cool blogs that link to me. How nice of them!----->
Thank you, thank you all
**gestures grandiosely with one arm while pretending to hold a bouquet in the other**
It’s frightening how obsessed I am about looking up my link on the internet. All I can think is, is that it? That’s how many people link to me? How can I make it to the Guiness Book of World records for Most Linked To Blog?
Oh my god, have I become Blogotistical? Have I become blogssed?
***********
Thanks Sébastien D. and Branwyn for posting to my GuestMap! Branwyn, there is a light at the end of the tunnel I swear! Sebas, I will deactivate my option thingy for the comments so that you can comment withOUT having a blog
Thank you, thank you all
**gestures grandiosely with one arm while pretending to hold a bouquet in the other**
It’s frightening how obsessed I am about looking up my link on the internet. All I can think is, is that it? That’s how many people link to me? How can I make it to the Guiness Book of World records for Most Linked To Blog?
Oh my god, have I become Blogotistical? Have I become blogssed?
***********
Thanks Sébastien D. and Branwyn for posting to my GuestMap! Branwyn, there is a light at the end of the tunnel I swear! Sebas, I will deactivate my option thingy for the comments so that you can comment withOUT having a blog
October 12, 2005
The Beginning of Rainy Season
Uh oh, the Rainy Season is upon us again. There was a little bit of drizzle this morning but already the streets were pooling water at the edges, the open sewers overflowing from the reflux of the trees and soaked earth. Women were wearing shower hats to protect their wigs and the men were walking in galoshes and raincoats, the traffic was as light as a typical Sunday afternoon (despite this being a Wednesdaymorning).
I've been seeing people racking the muck out of the open sewers or burning the trash out of gutters. I had initially thought that was part of the presidential campaign coming up! But in fact, they were unclogging the sewers in anticipation of the rains to come.
When I came to the office, no one was there--I felt very disoriented. Perhaps it was a national holiday I hadn't heard about? Had there been a major political coup, forcing people to stay home? No, the Head of Administration just says it's the Rainy Season: people panic, stay home longer and "back in the day" pupils didn't go to school when it rained.
6 months without school. Heaven!
I redirect you to my first few weeks in Congo when I caught the tail end of the rainy season: Un-be-live-able 2 (skim down the page of the month of April).
I've been seeing people racking the muck out of the open sewers or burning the trash out of gutters. I had initially thought that was part of the presidential campaign coming up! But in fact, they were unclogging the sewers in anticipation of the rains to come.
When I came to the office, no one was there--I felt very disoriented. Perhaps it was a national holiday I hadn't heard about? Had there been a major political coup, forcing people to stay home? No, the Head of Administration just says it's the Rainy Season: people panic, stay home longer and "back in the day" pupils didn't go to school when it rained.
6 months without school. Heaven!
I redirect you to my first few weeks in Congo when I caught the tail end of the rainy season: Un-be-live-able 2 (skim down the page of the month of April).
October 10, 2005
Moves
I was going to write about my new apartment but I just. don’t. have. the courage anymore.
We are in the midst of moving offices and with impending grant deadlines and due reports, I am very frazzled, can’t find any of my paperwork, am lost with dates and generally panicky. And I just got back from break. Oy.
We had to move because the landlord wanted to triple the rent and to accommodate new people. Get this: we are adding 10 more people and the new office is SMALLER than the last one. I guess I was spoiled with the last one (a very large office that I shared with a Congolese colleague and a photocopy machine) but the new one is ridiculous. In the same amount of space I had, there are now 6, SIX office cubicles and 8 in the whole room total. I would say “d’oh”, but “d’ilbert” seems more appropriate.
Number of office moves in the past year:
3
Number of house moves in the past year:
4
Number of different countries visited in the past year:
5
Number of annoyance today:
Ad infinitum +∞
**********
Aw, sucks! Thanks guys! Whatevery Thing Inc in Malaysia, Garcia another blogger in Kinshasa (who knew that Kinshasa was the It place for blogging), Bill W. who's finally pursuing his dream of being on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean (hahaha), Will my bro who has finally condescended to reading my blog, for posting on my GuestMap.
We are in the midst of moving offices and with impending grant deadlines and due reports, I am very frazzled, can’t find any of my paperwork, am lost with dates and generally panicky. And I just got back from break. Oy.
We had to move because the landlord wanted to triple the rent and to accommodate new people. Get this: we are adding 10 more people and the new office is SMALLER than the last one. I guess I was spoiled with the last one (a very large office that I shared with a Congolese colleague and a photocopy machine) but the new one is ridiculous. In the same amount of space I had, there are now 6, SIX office cubicles and 8 in the whole room total. I would say “d’oh”, but “d’ilbert” seems more appropriate.
Number of office moves in the past year:
3
Number of house moves in the past year:
4
Number of different countries visited in the past year:
5
Number of annoyance today:
Ad infinitum +∞
**********
Aw, sucks! Thanks guys! Whatevery Thing Inc in Malaysia, Garcia another blogger in Kinshasa (who knew that Kinshasa was the It place for blogging), Bill W. who's finally pursuing his dream of being on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean (hahaha), Will my bro who has finally condescended to reading my blog, for posting on my GuestMap.
October 05, 2005
Welcome back to the Congo
Alternative Title: How I got stuck on a ConAir flight
I just got back from break to Paris with the romantic walks on the polluted Seine and accidental steps in dog doodoo, Lyon that has the best food on earth (if you eat pig that is), and Chamonix in the mountains where the Mont Blanc is beautiful and stuff but doesn’t warrant a journey by telepheric when it feels like it’s -40ºC outside. At least not to a humanitarian worker who’s been living in perpetual summer for a year.
Anyways, with Congo far from my mind, I was able to relax and indulge is superfluous activities like a regular person such as shopping, stuffing my face and bicycling. La vie était belle.
Until I get on an Air France flight back to the Congo
--more to come on that, sorry am really overwhelmed right now :)--
******
Questions
Q1 "What inspired you to work in the 'developing world', particularly in the field of development?"--Kingston Girl
(incidentally did you know that I lived in Kingston, Ontario for 4 years?)
A1 What inspired me to work in the 'developing world' in development was my strong sense of guilt. I wish it were more heroic than that but it really isn't. I just felt awful watching starving children on TV while I was eating Snickers and Twix on a regular basis. I like the parentheses around the words developing world. I don't like the term 'developing world', I find it a bit condescending--as in we are waaay more developed than you guys are. I like it when people use the term 'rich countries' versus 'poor countries', it's a pretty honest rendition of the situation. I also like the term 'underserved countries' because the DRC has plenty of natural riches within its borders, it just misappropriates them.
Q2 "Do you have enough to read?"--Jean-Pierre
A2 No! I long for more books to read. Actually I'm a big whiner because I get two magazines a month. But it just sucks to be reading a review about the latest cool new novel in the New Yorker and not be able to buy it on the spot. Materialism be damned!
*****
DCveR thanks for posting on my map!
I just got back from break to Paris with the romantic walks on the polluted Seine and accidental steps in dog doodoo, Lyon that has the best food on earth (if you eat pig that is), and Chamonix in the mountains where the Mont Blanc is beautiful and stuff but doesn’t warrant a journey by telepheric when it feels like it’s -40ºC outside. At least not to a humanitarian worker who’s been living in perpetual summer for a year.
Anyways, with Congo far from my mind, I was able to relax and indulge is superfluous activities like a regular person such as shopping, stuffing my face and bicycling. La vie était belle.
Until I get on an Air France flight back to the Congo
--more to come on that, sorry am really overwhelmed right now :)--
******
Questions
Q1 "What inspired you to work in the 'developing world', particularly in the field of development?"--Kingston Girl
(incidentally did you know that I lived in Kingston, Ontario for 4 years?)
A1 What inspired me to work in the 'developing world' in development was my strong sense of guilt. I wish it were more heroic than that but it really isn't. I just felt awful watching starving children on TV while I was eating Snickers and Twix on a regular basis. I like the parentheses around the words developing world. I don't like the term 'developing world', I find it a bit condescending--as in we are waaay more developed than you guys are. I like it when people use the term 'rich countries' versus 'poor countries', it's a pretty honest rendition of the situation. I also like the term 'underserved countries' because the DRC has plenty of natural riches within its borders, it just misappropriates them.
Q2 "Do you have enough to read?"--Jean-Pierre
A2 No! I long for more books to read. Actually I'm a big whiner because I get two magazines a month. But it just sucks to be reading a review about the latest cool new novel in the New Yorker and not be able to buy it on the spot. Materialism be damned!
*****
DCveR thanks for posting on my map!
September 19, 2005
Kisantu
We went for a lovely ride down to Kisantu to the very Western edge of the country. The drive is about 2 hours, on an amazingly paved road all the way. I felt like Dorothy going on the yellow brick road:
Follow the yellow brick road. Follow brick road. Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road!!! We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of OOooooz!
Sigh. I've sunk low. I think I have a serious case of Movie Withdrawal.
Anyways, we were traveling with an American who was coming back to his beloved Congo after a long hiatus. He marveled at the state of the road, and pointed out various interesting features of the area: "see where the bamboo has been planted to hold the road in? that's where we had to negotiate with a military blockade to get past it. Oh there's another ancient blockade point. This is where we nearly got arrested. This is where 20 trucks got stuck in the road and it took us 3 hours to navigate through all of them to complete the 2 km stretch of road". Lovely indeed. I'm happy to know that the area has improve a bit.
Then we had a two hour lunch with a Congolese buddy of his. His thirteen-year-old son had killed his own chicken in honor of us. I tried to grin and nod appreciatively while trying to hold the meat inside my mouth.
Unfortunately, we were not able to see the famous botanical gardens as we had to pass a military checkpoint between Kisantu and Kinshasa before 6PM. Sigh, little bitty changes.
Follow the yellow brick road. Follow brick road. Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road!!! We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of OOooooz!
Sigh. I've sunk low. I think I have a serious case of Movie Withdrawal.
Anyways, we were traveling with an American who was coming back to his beloved Congo after a long hiatus. He marveled at the state of the road, and pointed out various interesting features of the area: "see where the bamboo has been planted to hold the road in? that's where we had to negotiate with a military blockade to get past it. Oh there's another ancient blockade point. This is where we nearly got arrested. This is where 20 trucks got stuck in the road and it took us 3 hours to navigate through all of them to complete the 2 km stretch of road". Lovely indeed. I'm happy to know that the area has improve a bit.
Then we had a two hour lunch with a Congolese buddy of his. His thirteen-year-old son had killed his own chicken in honor of us. I tried to grin and nod appreciatively while trying to hold the meat inside my mouth.
Unfortunately, we were not able to see the famous botanical gardens as we had to pass a military checkpoint between Kisantu and Kinshasa before 6PM. Sigh, little bitty changes.
Car Skills
I'm not really in the mood to write, but if I don't, all these memories will be lost...This makes me think of a quote from Blade Runner, from that weirdly white and translucent android dying in the rain:
I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate.
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.
Time to die.
Anyways, before I get to wrapped up in how amazing this movie is, I should tell you about my night on Friday. See I got home a little late (2PM) and wanted to park the huge Mega-truck in the parking lot of my new apartment building. Only, no luck, there were no parking lots in the front.
So I wake up the parking attendant, who enlists the help of one of his buddy. They gesture enthusiatically in my direction to let me know that there is a spot in the back. I navigate the slender alleyway to the back, only to find that the parking spot they point to is ludicrously small. I shake my head sadly but, to indulge their enthusiasm ("you'll fit I swear!!"), I give it a go. No luck. I leave for yet another parking spot where they enthusiastically wave and gesture and shout to "help me" park my car. No luck either. But they insist, telling me that there is PLENTY of space. So I force my way in...and get stuck in a sand bank. They actually have to dig two of my wheels from the sand; and the car is so precariously perched in the little hill that is actually angling toward a metal pipe, therefore wedging myself inside the space even more.
I grumble and get the following instructions
They: move forward more!
Me: I can't.
They: Of course you can, move forward more!!
Me (opening the door to show them the pressure that my foot is putting on the accelerator): no, see I really, really can't, the wheels are turning in the sand
They (emphatically): OK then back up
Me: --
I got so frustrated that after the car started smelling like burning and I couldn't start it again, I slammed the car door, stormed off, constrained myself, and semi-politely asked them "Have you ever driven in your life?", to which the answer is "no".
AAAAaaaarggghhh!
**More to come on the new apartment and Kisantu**
I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate.
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.
Time to die.
Anyways, before I get to wrapped up in how amazing this movie is, I should tell you about my night on Friday. See I got home a little late (2PM) and wanted to park the huge Mega-truck in the parking lot of my new apartment building. Only, no luck, there were no parking lots in the front.
So I wake up the parking attendant, who enlists the help of one of his buddy. They gesture enthusiatically in my direction to let me know that there is a spot in the back. I navigate the slender alleyway to the back, only to find that the parking spot they point to is ludicrously small. I shake my head sadly but, to indulge their enthusiasm ("you'll fit I swear!!"), I give it a go. No luck. I leave for yet another parking spot where they enthusiastically wave and gesture and shout to "help me" park my car. No luck either. But they insist, telling me that there is PLENTY of space. So I force my way in...and get stuck in a sand bank. They actually have to dig two of my wheels from the sand; and the car is so precariously perched in the little hill that is actually angling toward a metal pipe, therefore wedging myself inside the space even more.
I grumble and get the following instructions
They: move forward more!
Me: I can't.
They: Of course you can, move forward more!!
Me (opening the door to show them the pressure that my foot is putting on the accelerator): no, see I really, really can't, the wheels are turning in the sand
They (emphatically): OK then back up
Me: --
I got so frustrated that after the car started smelling like burning and I couldn't start it again, I slammed the car door, stormed off, constrained myself, and semi-politely asked them "Have you ever driven in your life?", to which the answer is "no".
AAAAaaaarggghhh!
**More to come on the new apartment and Kisantu**
September 16, 2005
Brush with Celebrities
On Wednesday, I met up with two bloggers in Kinshasa Lulu on the Bridge and Timothée. Not only are they fellow bloggers in the DRC, they are also nice, well-adjusted people.
Who would have thought?
Who would have thought?
September 15, 2005
Photos of Mwene Ditu
Wahsing Machine: the sisters boil their clothes, sheets and hospital linens in a large barrel before pounding them on two large stone bassins and hanging them out to dry
Sorting Pondu: Three teenagers help out at the convent by sorting dried pondu (manioc) leaves.
Small Plane: this is a small 7-seater plane that we were lucky enough to be able to board. We didn't have to go to the large N'djili airport, which made the trip about 90% more pleasant.
Sisters Enroll: sisters in Mwene Ditu just came back from getting enrolled, showing their ink blackened finger with pride
September 14, 2005
Pictures of Mwene Ditu 2
This old Belgian house--completely isolated in the region of Kanda Kanda--now houses a health team that overseas a variety of health centers. Despite having upheld 40 years well (the ceiling is still perfect, made from gorgeous dark wooden slats), a massive rehabilitation work is necessary--starting with windows and doors
Palm oil is made from nuts from a type of palm tree, ground in a large wooden grinder and manually powered by two strong village boys
Same beer, different marketing label in the diamond town
The snaking Congo River cuts a space in the deeply concentrated forest (note: upon reflection and various comments on this blog, I looked at a map and think it's more probably to be the Lukenie River)
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