Today I was walking back to the office after my lunch break. It was blazing hot in the sunshine so I was navigating the shadows where they were available. Just as I rounded the corner in front of our office a woman sitting under a tree across the street stood up and started walking in my direction with a fat little baby on her hip. As she got close she asked me to stop and said in broken French, “I have lion’s teeth for sale. Would you like to buy them?” I replied, “No ma’am, not today but thank you very much.”
It reminds me of the time that someone in my building tried to sell me a leopard head. And was it just this week that someone in the office was telling me that they are astonished that ivory is illegal to import into the USA, “There are so many elephants and sometimes they just die of natural causes… so why shouldn’t we wear ivory bracelets and make carvings?” I haven’t seen any jungle elephants walking through town coughing and sneezing.
I finally took a trip across the Congo River this week. I’ve wanted to go for a long time and we were opening a new community bank on a day that worked with my schedule so I went. The canoes look small from my apartment but they’re really huge. Occasionally I’ll see people pushing one down the street on a large wheeled contraption - they must weigh at least a few tons and they are very stable in the water. It gave me a completely new perspective of canoe travel as we zipped past other boats with 40 or more people lining the sides and merchandise in the middle. The trip takes about five minutes in a motorized boat and up to 30 or 40 minutes when paddled.
Recently we tried to buy life jackets for our staff and the only ones we could find in town were nothing special in terms of quality and had been painted across the back in French “gift from the Belgian Kingdom”. The NGO that was selling their gift wanted $100 a piece. Instead we’re waiting for a couple of high-quality $25 jackets to come from the USA.
In the meantime, I am happy to report to my mother and anyone else who cares that crossing the river in a motorized canoe is pretty darn stable and safe. (It helps to have reasonably good confidence that the motor is in good shape as they don’t keep emergency paddles in the boat. They rely on other motorized boats to come to the rescue.)
It was a cloudy, dry and relatively cool day for the trip and I enjoyed walking from the canoe landing to the church where the community bank meets. There are almost no cars over there and fewer motorcycles than here. People didn’t even seem surprised to see me walking around. A couple of them called me “Pere”. They think I am a priest visiting the local parish. I’m often assumed to be a priest if I am not assumed to be with the United Nations mission. At the loan disbursal I was able to hold a baby for a photograph and she didn’t even cry. About 90% of the babies I’ve held here freak out. I am the abominably snowy-white man so I can’t blame them at all, but this little girl was not phased and I was blessed.
If you’re reading this in a country where you can safely drink directly from the tap I suggest you stop reading and go draw yourself a tall glass of water and drink up. Don’t feel guilty about it but feel free to express gratitude to a higher power: the local water company, the government regulatory agencies, God.
When I was growing up in Arizona we were taught in school to conserve water in that desert. I never took it very seriously. Long showers and playing with the garden hose were standard practices. I remember taking long drinks from the hose.
I’m thinking about water for two reasons. First, I just completed my Saturday morning ritual of filling 15 water cans in my apartment. Fortunately the pump is still working and I don’t have to hire people to haul water cans up and down the stairs. The only problem is that they turn the pump on for just minutes a day and it starts right as I leave for work. By Saturday I’m usually near the bottom of my supply and it’s a good feeling to replenish it. Life gets pretty hard fast without water.
The other reason I’m thinking about water is thanks to a visit to Dr. Adipepe this week. He owns and operates the clinic where our staff receive health care. Lately there have been more complaints than usual and it’s been too long since I’ve seen him so we paid a visit. He might just have the most personality of anyone in the city, maybe anyone I’ve ever met. He laughs uproariously at himself regularly in conversation and his eyes and teeth almost pop out of his face as he does. He’s usually pointing right at me when this happens. He was telling stories and talking up a storm and I started to feel bad about the patients waiting. Sitting behind him was the brand new ultrasound machine he is very proud of. I’m impressed by it and I hope it runs on variable voltage.
As I was expressing some of the staff concerns his reply was in the form of a question, “Have any of your staff died under my care?” “No, they haven’t.” “Well then I rest my case. What do you have to complain about?” I guess he has a point, of sorts. But I quickly replied, “Well doctor, that’s a basic level of customer service I suppose since nobody is dead, but these living staff members deserve a bit more than that don’t you think?”
Staff complain about negative results to Malaria tests when they believe that’s what they have. Dr. Adipepe’s contention is that it’s really more often Typhoid Fever from unsanitary water and people are not in the habit of boiling it. The mosquitoes and Malaria are certainly rampant but I can’t help but think that the doctor has a point. It’s an ongoing conflict that will likely continue and we’ll try to mediate it. As usual, reality probably lies somewhere between the positions people are taking. Unfortunately there aren’t many options for health care here. And then I think about the vast jungle surrounding our city and this place looks like the Mayo Clinic.
Having recently had Typhoid I can’t help but be compelled to pray for people across this nation and around the world who are suffering the pangs of severe illness but lack even the pocket change to get treatment. I think especially of the ones who got sick only because they drank a glass of water from the tap.
Work is busy these days. I remember when I first arrived in Kisangani, Thursdays could run slow and I had time to visit with many more of our clients. Now the organization is over three times the size and there’s a lot to do from loan fund projections to human resources to training the internal auditor I just promoted. The people I work with are a treasure, even the electrician who insists on negotiating every job across my desk with a sneaky grin. This morning as I left our morning prayer/announcements and passed him with his arms in the electrical service I called him Frère (Brother) Gilles without having to think about it. That’s what he is, our electrically handy brother.
Our office is on the corner across from the Greek Community (Commaunité Hellenique, just in case you are reading V.S. Naipaul’s “A Bend in the River”) and just up the hill from the mighty Congo River. She’s flowing full these days, even if most of the rain is falling into the river basin over on the other side of the equator. A canoe tipped a couple of weeks ago, dropping some mothers and fathers into the river and their families into a grief that we see here simply too often.
Our street is a row of art deco houses from the 1950’s in various states of decay. The Belgians clearly designated it an urban residential street though there’s an old cinema around the corner and we’re one block off of a main thoroughfare: Blvd. Mama Mobutu. Now there are no zoning laws in force, which is good for us since we’re an office in a house. The lack of zoning also has its drawbacks. Our neighbors recently constructed several bamboo awnings in their front yard and opened a bar. They play a Celine Dion CD over and over all afternoon most days.
Once last week and again this week I’ve come out of the office in the twilight to the sounds of church choir practice. It’s a delightfully twangy and spirited hymn with a baroque flourish and it’s out of place after Celine but so much more nourishing to the soul. As the voices waft out from under the bamboo bar roof and over the wall it’s an epilogue to another day, both fitting and free.
Today I stepped out under the sunset sky just as it was royal blue striped with broad swatches of pink. There was no music, just cool calm air and an enormous flock of small birds flying overhead filling the sky from one end to the other like living confetti. There had to be several thousands of them and in a minute they were gone. A few minutes more and the sun went the way of the birds. I climbed up into my high-rise jungle tree house for another night’s repose.
We’re getting ready this week for our first staff retreat. It’s just Friday night to Saturday night at the nearby St. Gabriel Parish Guest House. There’s a great big sloping lawn out front and a beautiful view of the river. Hopefully we’ll play some soccer on that lawn. Ruth and two loan officers are already reviewing some Campus Crusade training materials that I have given them to share with us in one or two sessions Saturday. I’ve got scrabble (popular here) and I’ll bring Uno.
I know a few fun group games that don’t require many materials and that MIGHT go over with the staff and I’m interested in your suggestions!
Hopefully the retreat will be a time to strengthen our teamwork and camaraderie and to get away from the thick of the city for a day. Our annual audit starts the next day!
The past couple of weeks have been extra-ordinary as I have had two visitors to Kisangani. The first was Kathy, a coworker from Kinshasa who is making her first rounds to our programs and this was her first trip inland from Kinshasa. It was great to have her as she helped evaluate some of our systems and our preparation for the annual audit.
Then my coworker and good friend Peter came from Kinshasa for a four-day weekend that we had thanks to some national holidays in Congo. I was just in Kinshasa recently and now I got to have visitors come to Kisangani. Peter started the program here and this was the third time he’s visited since leaving. It’s always interesting to hear about the things he remembers from an intense year in Kisangani. He’s the one person in the world who’s had this job and it’s a blessing that we’ve become great friends. Here are some photos from the visit. The children pictured belong to the office accountant. We went to visit them on Saturday. Sunday we went to a local Catholic Seminary and ran into my friend Issa who is Senegalese and here with the UN. They’re guarding a quarry just next to the seminary that the UN is using.
Our old diesel Landcruiser is ill and needs an overhaul, which we may or may not be able to have done here. If that’s not an option, we may send the engine down the river to Kinshasa in a crate to be operated on there but we don’t know how long that will take and whether it will come back in one piece. This is not priority-one on the desk of a microfinance manager but I’m gathering information to decide what to do with this logistical problem.
We needed a second car for our program anyway and we found a small SUV that is serving us well, I wrote about it here a little while ago. Well now the fuel boat from Kinshasa is late leaving the docks and we’ve got a gasoline crisis. They are selling 10 liters (about four gallons) at a time, except to their corrupt connections where the gas is being stockpiled for profiteering later on in the crisis. There’s a huge line at the station and this is just the beginning of the crisis.
We only have a couple of gas stations and much of the gas in town is sold by resellers. They keep gasoline in barrels or (mostly) small bottles on shelves at the roadside. They’re fairly notorious for stretching their merchandise with other liquids to increase profits. A crisis like this is a boon for some of them who are well connected and can get supply to sell at double or more their cost. The crisis of course also encourages even more secret blends that will make your motor cough, wheeze and seize. I’m going tomorrow (Saturday) at 7:30 AM to try to get 10 liters. I’ll take a book and be ready for some craziness.
Ironically, diesel is in good supply.
There’s talk of a road to the eastern border with Uganda opening up soon and yet no definitive word on when that will be. I’ve heard rumors that the project was designed and funded as road repair when in reality it’s construction from scratch. There are fat trees that have grown up in the middle of the old road, bridges have failed or are unsafe, and the jungle has been taking the road back for some time now. I’ve reviewed many CVs listing road construction so I know this work has been ongoing for years (and going through many staff) and yet there’s still no road link to the east.
Even when that road is opened it will be a dirt road and the task of keeping it up will be significant. With the volume of tropical rainfall here, they say it will take just two years of neglect for the road to become completely impassible. This is a long road to maintain.
The river is also slow and even as work has been done to remove river-blocks where government officials try to exact fines and fees for passage through their fiefdoms, few boats are making it this far upriver. It was looking good for awhile and now it’s slowing down. It’s at least a three week journey against the current and there’s no map, the river is not dredged. It’s got to be pretty treacherous.
Airplanes used to come in at least once a day. Most planes were Antonovs, old Russian aircraft that have long been banned in most nations. They are operated on lease from companies that are tied to big Russian mobsters and mercenaries. They have a horrible safety record and crashes are frequent. Planes are old, poorly maintained and overloaded. A recent crash killed everyone aboard the plane and many people in the neighborhood where the plane fell in Kinshasa. (These cargo planes usually also had some seats and passengers also rode with the cargo.) This incident came not long after a train had derailed in the interior killing scores more people.
The government suddenly banned the Antonovs in order to make a response to these transportation crises. They aren’t just banned for passengers, they’re banned outright. It’s certainly good for safety but such a sudden move is hurting the economy. In Kisangani, we’re even more economically isolated than before. The valuable mineral exports will likely draw in better planes and imports of necessities will start again – but this may take some time until companies can work out the details, front cash, get through red tape, and of course they may be waiting to see if the rule will be reversed or if they can get around it somehow.
Writing this blog has been a great creative outlet and a way to share some of the experiences, the beloved people, and challenging work that Congo has brought into my life with a wide variety of people. In short, the blog has given me much more than it has demanded. But somehow in December it decided to eat a series of posts. Just like that- crunch, crunch, poof, gone! I’m going to repost the ones that I still have and may the others rest in peace. Any faithful readers out there, please do not be confused when stories from the past couple months pop back up in the next few days.
In some corners of DR Congo we say ‘bonana’ to say ‘happy new year’. Since there’s no mail service, cell phone text messages replace greeting cards and they’re sent in abundance. I haven’t gotten mine out yet.
I’ve been hosting my friend Chip here in Congo since his arrival Christmas Eve. The original plan was that I would fly out the weekend before Christmas and we’d spend Christmas in Kinshasa and then the day after fly out to Kisangani. I’d forewarned Chip that anything and everything can and will go wrong with all the best laid plans in Congo. This time it has been the lack of airlines and flights that has gummed up our plans. During 2007 three out of four national airlines serving Kinshasa and Kisangani have either gone out of business completely or have stopped serving Kisangani. One fell flat just in the last few weeks, another widely publicized their resuming service to Kisangani and then delayed it to late January. I went to another airline and they said that all of their planes are under maintenance checks and they hope to fly in February. The one airline left flies three days a week and dropped the Tuesday flight on Christmas Day and New Years Day without replacing it. They were seriously overloaded with customers. I almost didn’t make it to Kinshasa at all, which would have been the worst outcome: Chip here in Kin for a week and me stuck in Kisangani. When I finally got here and went to church I told some people that I was worried about that and they said “it wouldn’t have been the first time that’s happened.”
There’s not much to do for tourists in Congo - but at least if we’d made it to Kisangani I was planning a trip across the river, a big staff party with home cooked Congolese food, visits to loan groups, etc. Kinshasa is a bustling metropolis with many restaurants and not much else to do. Complicating matters further, I have been working these days between the holidays.
Chip packed a bag of things that I’d ordered online, a Christmas care package from my mother, a book from a friend, some things from my pastor in the USA and things from a list I gave him that he went around to pick up in stores. That bag didn’t arrive with him Christmas Eve and still hasn’t come. If anyone sees a black and gray Eagle Creek rolling duffel bag sitting in Brussels or New York or anyplace else, please let me know.
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