2006 June Archive at BrianJBecker.com

Monthly Archive for June, 2006

Party Like it’s 30 June.

Published

on June 28, 2006

. 0 Comments

It’s just after 7:00 PM and night has fallen here in Kisangani. I’ve got my little radio tuned in to “Okapi”, the Congolese station that’s sponsored by the United Nations. It’s the only station that’s not funded by any particular political party so that’s where people go for the straightest scoop. The evening newscast just ended and Okapi is pumping out some catchy tunes. It’s an American gospel singer and she’s got a funky riff.

The Democratic Republic of the Congo is getting ready to celebrate its independence from Belgian colonizers. The Congolese like to party with the best of them and Friday the 30^th of June will be one of the biggest parties of the year. I’m told there will be a huge parade that will start in front of the building. I’ll have a bird’s eye view of the colorful fete of organized chaos. Most expatriates will keep their distance in their homes or their offices, but I will watch it from above since that’s where I live.

For many of you, the 4^th of July is the day to celebrate independence from colonizers. Here it’s just another Tuesday at work, of course. It’s my understanding that American expatriates around the world usually gather at the local embassy or consulate on the 4th to roast some weenies and talk baseball. (Detroit Tigers, who’d have thunk that one? How about the Padres battling for the lead in the NL West and playing better than 500 ball into July?) They also get together on Thanksgiving and eat turkeys. But where I am there might be about two or three of us American citizens and we don’t hang out. I’ve never met the others in fact so I can’t prove they exist. The embassy in Kinshasa said that they’d be coming out here for a visit, which I understand includes a free meal out at one of our few restaurants. It’s just a pleasant little gift from the USA to slightly augment my nonexistent tax refunds of late. The embassy hasn’t made good on the visit yet in the three months since I showed up.

Root Beer From Above?

Published

Brian

on June 17, 2006

in Africa, Congo and General

. 4 Comments

Curtis and I both have dull headaches today. We remarked on it just now and I thought that it might be from straining our eyes working on a jigsaw puzzle this fine cool Saturday. Then the landlady knocked on the door and asked if we were the ones responsible for the gasoline odor. It didn’t even occur to me that the noxious odor wafting up into the apartment might be responsible for our headaches. Life here is not short on strange odors. There is a rice processing facility just next to our building and there is some kind of heat involved. Just about every evening as we come home from work there’s a huge steaming pile of half-processed rice near the building. That stuff is a pungent mixture of thick coffee and burning rubber. People don’t make much trash here but what they do have to get rid of generally gets burned. Weeds are often piled up and burned, setting off various sweet smoky odors depending on what weeds are heaped on the pile. Another day, three more funky smells. It’s a real tour de force for the olfactory nerve.

It’s not something to complain about, (the present petrol odor exempted). It just is. But it’s good to give the nose a reprieve when possible. Today I baked a loaf of bread. The smell is rich and rewarding. It’s almost as good as the odor just now creeping in through the window; the Indian family down the hall is cooking up something spicy and tasty. If only I could strike up a friendship with them… Last night we visited the new home of one of our staff members. Tony has just moved out of his folks’ place to prepare the nest as he readies for marriage. He lives in a neighborhood full of old Belgian mansions in various states of disrepair that have been claimed and subdivided by local landlords. After a dinner of fried plantain and smoked fish we watched the Netherlands beat Côte D’Ivoire by a score of 2 to 1 in Germany. I’ve always got to root for the underdog if I don’t come into it with a favorite. I was pulling for the Ivoire Elephants, and so was all of Africa. I couldn’t help but thinking of my friends there and how they have been suffering through civil war for years now.

As we arrived home, walked up the stairs, and turned into our dark hallway there was an odd whirring noise and a headlight coming toward us. It turned out to be the Indian family’s little girl on a battery powered toy motorcycle. It occurred to me that this cute little girl is so young yet she’s among the elite few in town with wheels.

There are few things from America that I miss very often. I miss people far more than things. I’d cut out most soda long before I left the USA and here it is often unavoidable. But truthfully, I do miss root beer. Yesterday I was in one of our little grocery stores and I spotted one lonely can of A&W Root Beer! I could hardly contain myself. As far as I know there isn’t any other country besides the USA that makes or drinks root beer. The Aussies have some drinks in the genre but they’re not the same. My British friends think it tastes like toothpaste or medicine. (We use mint and cherry to flavor cough medicine and apparently they use something like root beer.) I asked the shopkeeper how he got the root beer and he said that it came through Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. Dubai has been the major trading post for Africa and the Middle East for a long time and they say you can buy just about anything you want there. Still, root beer?! Back at the office I was savoring every sip and I noticed that it was canned in Southern California! It is a small world and it’s getting smaller every day.

The gasoline odor has faded as I’ve written this entry. Hopefully someone will light up a fire nearby before my nose gets bored.

World Cup and Community

Published

Brian

on June 13, 2006

in Africa and Congo

. 2 Comments

This morning when I woke up and looked across the river the far bank was completely ensconced in fog, removed from sight. My first thought upon seeing it, “Ah, the Pacific Ocean.” It was a good illusion seeing as I am at least one ocean away from the Pacific in any direction. Just about any ocean is a nice thing, but something about the Pacific feels like home. It was my neighbor for some eight years in San Diego. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it.

I had a great weekend in Kinshasa with my friends and colleagues there. I am blessed to enjoy my coworkers so much, those that are here in Kisangani and those that are hundreds or thousands of miles away. There’s no question that this is not a typical job and the conditions can also present challenges, but I am well supported and in good company.

One highlight of the weekend was shopping for a desk chair and some lamps in Kinshasa with Peter. Downtown Kinshasa is chaotic to say the least. The streets are crowded and sometimes flooded. Construction barriers don’t really exist. There was one intersection that was an enormous 10-foot-deep pit. Sometimes they use tree branches stuck in piles of dirt to mark large construction holes in the road. Sometimes they aren’t marked at all and when the utilities make repairs, they neglect to fill in the holes at all. But in Kinshasa there is someone who wants to earn a buck leading your car to the right parking space and then someone else who has the right to take another buck for allowing you to park and yet someone else who will guard your car for a buck. We made it into one store with a decent chair selection and there were about four men who’d come in with us and were negotiating prices even though they didn’t work there. I told the mama who was in charge of the place to chase them out before we could begin haggling. She managed to do it and I had a great time dickering with her over the inflated price of the chair. In the end Peter didn’t buy it, but I didn’t care because I’d had so much fun in the process.

Another highlight was meeting our brand new intern Omo. She’s just cool and she has a great attitude. She’s from Nigeria and she’s lived in France and the USA. She’s currently studying in Washington, DC. She rounded out our foosball competition, two on a side. I don’t know if I have ever had as much fun playing foosball as I did on Saturday night with those three and that homemade African foosball table. Incidentally, here they call foosball either “kicker” or “baby-foot”. Either one must be pronounced with a French accent to get the full effect.

Speaking of soccer, you are probably aware that the World Cup is in effect. I remember getting into it myself when it was in Japan. A few times I stayed up into all hours of the night watching games broadcast live from Asia. It was exciting. My excitement is nothing, however, compared to the level of interest here in Congo. My pals in Kinshasa don’t own a television so we weren’t able to watch but we could hear the entire neighborhood reverberate whenever a shot was fired on the goal. It’s not unlike the jeers and cheers that ring out in Kisangani when the power cuts or is restored. Or like the Sosa/McGwire single-season homerun race some years back. I remember being in the airport in San Diego during one of the fateful games that season. When McGwire was at the plate most everyone moving through the terminal was frozen and transfixed on a TV monitor (more than the usual sports bar sets were tuned into the action) and when he cranked a homer, the entire airport erupted in applause. That might be the closest thing I’ve observed in the USA to the sense of communal energy that is always palpable here in Congo.

——-

P.S. I am praising God for reports today that my cousin Alex has come through serious surgery with flying colors. We’ve been praying for her here in Congo and others have no doubt been doing the same in other places around the world. Thanks to the great physicians in Arizona and to the Great Physician Himself for caring for her needs and bringing much needed healing.

A Sojourn to the East

Published

Brian

on June 3, 2006

in Africa and Congo

. 2 Comments

Last Thursday I traveled to the eastern border city of Goma. I’m beginning to get my wits about me when it comes to navigating Congo’s red tape and rigamarole. Two HOPE staff members also helped guide me through the airport protocol. Our airport is tiny and they’ve built a wall through the middle of it splitting it in two. The left side is for commercial traffic and the right side is for United Nations operations. There are still others that fly in cargo planes and I am not sure they go into the terminal building at all. There’s often a huddled mass of folks ready to climb into an old Russian Antonov with sacks of produce and contraband. I’ve learned that many of the regular requests for small bribes may be avoided or deterred by some mild mannered joking or even sincere conversation.

I flew with Congo’s top shelf airline, Hewa Bora (Swahili for “better air” or “excellent wind”). Their ticket office is conveniently located at the foot of the building I live in. Yet after three failed attempts to buy a ticket, I decided to buy it at the airport. They seemed much more organized when they showed up at the airport to get ready for the aircraft to come through. Boarding card in hand, I was walked out by one of their agents to climb into a Boeing 727. It was an enjoyable flight. The cockpit door was left open the entire flight and I could see right out the front windows. When we landed in Goma we came in over Lake Kivu, one of Africa’s great lakes. There were some brisk last minute maneuvers to put the nose on the centerline and when we touched down the passengers burst into applause. I couldn’t help but join in. Then the pilot slammed on the brakes. Nearby Mount Nyiragongo’s most recent eruption in 2003 nearly destroyed the entire airport and the runway is significantly shortened by the lava floe that remains.

-Caritas. A true African mama.

I was met by my friend Pastor Masimango and he took me to the border with Rwanda to meet my friend Pastor Simon-Pierre. I stayed with Simon-Pierre and his family for five days. It’s a tremendous blessing to be a friend of his family. Whenever I show up there I am welcomed with open arms as a member of the family. I was able to help shop in the market and cook over the charcoal stove. The conversations are great, even the limited communication with their two youngest, Frasier and Esdras “Babu” is a true blessing. I am thankful that I’m just a short flight away from these friends.

-Frasi, Babu & me

Saturday afternoon I was asked to greet a group of caregivers, parents and orphans who are affected by HIV/AIDS. It was a large group and it’s encouraging to see that people aren’t afraid to let it be known that they are infected. They are beginning to organize and look to one another and the church for support. Simon-Pierre’s church has a program where families in the church surround someone living with HIV/AIDS. They commit to praying for them, caring for some physical needs, and visiting one another in frequent fellowship. It’s working. They call the program “peanuts”. Salted peanuts are a common tasty snack in Rwanda. The name is to signify the good feelings that everyone finds in their loving fellowship.

I met up with the Nazarene missionaries and a Point Loma LoveWorks team that came into town on Saturday night. I’ve led three of those teams to Africa in the past and it’s a different feeling living here and seeing the team arrive. Now I understand better than ever the excitement and energy that the team can create. It’s never easy to navigate the cultural and economic differences that can separate us, but it’s worth working at. It was great to be with them for a couple of days. This team really knows how to sing, too.

-Abinah (Pt. Loma Team) and Simon-Pierre.

The team brought a small keyboard that I’d ordered online. It was a bit dodgy getting it through customs into Congo. With the help of friends it worked out just fine and it’s great having it here. It’d been about three months of scarcely touching a piano and that was hard for me. Now I am back in business.

While I was in Rwanda I spent a lot of time with Pastor Simon-Pierre traveling over the volcano rock streets in the church’s Land Cruiser. He’d stop every few hundred meters to greet someone from the church or a neighbor he was acquainted with. Simon-Pierre has made many tough decisions under duress. He’s remained independent of political parties and regimes and he’s become a leader in the community on HIV/AIDS awareness and response. He’s also about to finish a beautiful large brick church that we started with him in 2003. He’s coordinated the work of many people and moved forward through the project in faith.

One of the people we met on our courses through town was Charles. The first thing I noticed about him was his cheerful smile. Then I noticed as he approached that he was missing his hands. They’d been brutally chopped off in the 1994 genocide when he was just a young teenager. A benevolent westerner in town took him in and had him sent to the USA for emergency surgery. He offered me a warm smile, greeting, and his forearm to shake. He’s an example of God’s faithfulness through struggle. Life goes on, peace ultimately trumps violence, death cannot overtake life in Christ.

I spent some time in Goma on Monday and Tuesday with another friend Rev. Balibanga. He filled me in on more intricacies and atrocities of Congo war politics. He reassured me of his hopes and his sense of peaceful months ahead in Kisangani. Now is as good a time as ever to pray for the peace of Christ to reign in Congo. It’s a good time to pray that for every place under the sun.