A few pics to introduce what's coming....
yesteray we had the awesome priviledge of sponsoring 10 of Georgette's kids to go to camp for a week. we picked them up and crammed all of us into the jeep. they looked so good dressed up in their converse and sweatbands and girls with braided hair.
i have to sort through the pics (mostly video) and i'll post more in a few days.

Georgette and her kids

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends ....

So an interesting topic came up with a wise Congolese man the other day.
Suicide. (i forget the context we were talking about)
but it had me asking the question...here? in the Congo? is it a problem?
the answer is...no, not like other countries.

made me think....in a country with extreme poverty, hardship, injustice, lack of hope....
why isn't it such a problem? (of course, not that i wish it was a problem)

my wise friend explained to me that here...when anyone is sad - there is ALWAYS someone around asking "what's wrong?" or just to listen, even if they don't have any advice to give.
Few people walk around sad. The family, relatives, friends, dogs, chickens and cats are always there so there's no time to be alone or mope on your own.

Unlike other countries that are moving at rapid speed, so much convenience, yet so much isolation and loneliness. In fact Japan has a term for young adults that lock themselves in their dark apartments day in and day out called hikkikomori It's a serious problem. It's so sad that people actually meet up on-line to plan group suicides. Makes me want to run back there right now and do something. ahhh.

What I like about African culture is their sense of community & togetherness (although it is still smothering to me at times) A friend of mine here lives with a Congolese family. It has been a huge stretching experience for him - to be around others 24-7 & everyone wants a piece of you. I mean....I have lived in community before, but it looked different and it wasn't the norm in a culture that often thinks "my 4 and no more."

I'm reminded of the Beatles song, "Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends" (perhaps not the part of getting high). But you get my point. We need others and I'm learning to see this in a new light during my journey here.

Anyways, this is turning into one big ramble. Hopefully you can pull some nuggets to chew or comment on. Anyways - cheers to family, friends, acquaintances, cats, dogs and pigs? along the journey!

Mon Voleur!!!!!!!!!!!

O.k. people...have i got a good story today!!!

so there i am....in the heart of the grande marché with Florence & Gloria.
2 whiteys and a congolese
this is the place that sells everything from buttons to stereos to toilet seats
i know enough NOT to bring a purse or wallet...
so i put my phone in my side pocket - you know like cargo pants type
and a few bills on the other side

as we were walking many people shoved things in our faces ~
things like wooden cutting boards, gucci watches, plastic placemats, spoons..
you know - c'est normale no?

anyways....
one guy started following us waving a totally wrinkled shirt on a hanger
i noticed that he was following us a ways so i warned gloria.
after a bit the next thing i know there is a dolly (for towing boxes)
in front of me on the crowded sidewalk
then someone shoving from behind on my left side
with the wrinkled shirt saleman to my right
and dolly in front of me
i did a kind of matrix move to avoid & swerve my way around
then i had this amazing 6th sense that someone took something
out of my pocket
he was still beside me so i yelled "euh" & grabbed his arm
and to my amazement he opened his palm and there was my phone!
then as he tried taking off i actually pointed and shouted THIEF (in french) - duh!!!
kind of like a knee-jerk reaction
unbelieveable!!!
(could've gotten myself beaten for THAT one)
i got my phone back and guy took off

~the end~

i watched an old shiveled man that looked like mother theresa in stature & kind facial expression. he was hunched over and leaning his elbow on himself for balance. as my friends came back to the car, he came over and with the most gentle face, waited for something. i felt compelled. as he went to hunch back on himself near the wall, we started to drive away but i opened the car door. i felt the need to rush over and look into his eyes and let him know that i saw him. i stumbled out of the car with my dirty bills - an earthly treasure to him i'm sure. as i came over, i saw his gentle eyes and as i reached out both of my hands to clasp his, i spoke a blessing over him in lingala. he received me with such grace and gratitude i felt totally undone. as i glided back to the car, the tears started welling up as i was brought down to the basics in that moment.
this one...does not go unnoticed.
his hard life.
the labor of his hands & desires of his heart, known by God.
i felt broken by the life he wore and wondered who loved him here on this earth.
my heart is breaking & expanding, breaking & expanding. it is not fun.
but hopefully one of the results will be less sentences with "i" in them and more of "others"


"pockets of greatness" (stole that from Cammie - haha)
like a down-south home jamboree with spoon slapping, toe tapping, banjo plucking & guitar strutting....was the group i found in a darkened, dirty street last night.
it was soooo cool and i'm kicking myself now for not seizing MORE of the moment.
it was late, we were in a hurry & others in my group didn't seem as interested as i.
there were 3 handicap, homeless men sitting under a street lamp.
one was playing what kind of looked like a banjo, the other a home-made looking guitar & the third kept rythm on the metal street gutter. the sound was like none i had heard here.
so full & rich, raw & real. i must've looked stupid to them as i was on my way out the door when i stopped in mid-step and just stared at them with a stupid grin on my face while swinging to the music. the rest of my group was hurrying to the car. ahhh.
i couldn't stayed in that moment a long time.
i would've/ should've/ could've paid them some money to take a pic. or a short video clip.
AGH.
maybe i will get the chance to go back there soon!
don't you just HATE those moments of momentary delay and opportunities missed.
CARPE DIEM i say! CARPE DIEM!!!

je suis énervé!

a little on the edgy side...

perhaps i'm not finding the reality of "t.i.a." so funny anymore...

instead of focusing on all the blockages & what i CAN'T do today

i'm thinking of what i CAN do - sounds like a 'duh' moment?!?

although the list is small...it is something.

by the way...the strike is over (taxi drivers strike yesterday)

to be continued....

i leave you with these munchkins ~

oh and....

i'm not laughing anymore at the japanese train conductors who were not a minute over time. saluting onwards as we passed each station with exact precision of time.
looking pretty good now!!! wahahahaha.

Elikia Children's Village Update....

You know the old lady who swallowed a fly?

well...this is a similar story...kind of that cycle effect....
I was hoping to report today on the progress of our fence at Elikia Village but we've run into a few hiccups. As i am beginning to say more often with a smile on my face... T.I.A.

Let me introduce you to THE MAN....

This truck was a gift to SSM and as you can see, hasn't been in use for awhile...so now is the perfect time to get it up and running for our needs at the site. This week i have been arranging to get 10 tonnes of gravel so that we can fill the holes for the posts...along with the cement that we have. We need this truck to go pick up the gravel that will be dumped from a silo into the truck. The Man is running but....the hiccup is the legal documents. We have the insurance papers but there is another paper we need. The D.G.R.A.D. = Direction Generale des Ressorer ces Administratives et domaniales is on strike this week!!! That means no driving permits, no licence plates, no certificates - etc. When I researched this i found out that these workers have not been paid their bonus since April and so they are on strike.

T.I.A. and the cycle continues...however, we are still digging holes, welding posts and preparing the ground to begin the cementing next week. Keep in mind though that we don't have sophisticated machinery, electricity or water on site :) We DO have very resourceful workers who know how to adapt and work to make it all happen!

So...stay tuned and next week I will show pictures of the progress (& pray that the strike ends soon). It is also a little funny that in a country that doesn't seem to have road rules we actually need these papers. Yet since there has been a police crackdown in the markets, with taxi drivers and a general increased police presence there seems to be an effort to put some things in order. So we wait.

more things that make me go hmmmmm.....

i've picked up a stutter in french. i think i've been hearing too many people talk like this.
bad habit....le le le le le (searching for the noun, hands waving in the air - somebody slap me!) le camion.


heater meals. whoever came up with this concept? i'm sure it's good for campers and for my roomates who enjoy a cooked meal when there is no electricity. reminds me a little too much of the jetsons or the queen in narnia who dropped a few droplets and food appeared. (there was even steam coming out of the box)....taste is another matter.


when the electricity is off and 2 or 3 times my lightbulb flickers but never comes on. i always joke that the person manning the electric switchboard said to his partner "no, no, not Ma Campagne (our neighborhood), I said I.P.N. (our old neighborhood)" hense the tantalizing, evil flicker of light that never stays. according to my friend this actually may not be far from the truth!!!


Napoleon Dynamite is infiltrating the Congo. well anyways, the Vote for Pedro t-shirts sported on mamas with wrap skirts and buckets on their heads. makes me giggle. little did those guys know that their low-budget movie would bring in such wide-spread fame!

under my skin....

…that’s what i’m beginning to feel about this place & the people.its like something i’m carrying around with me…underlying my surface. on the outside i’m still white and often carry some of my “white ways” but under my skin….i feel the sharp pain of hunger that i see but is not necessarily mine. i battle the wall of frustration that i sense because life is hard in the Congo. under my skin…not just a minor irritation that will be healed with ointment & a band-aid. feeling challenged & at the same time overwhelmed with “a cup of cold water in My Name” and “a piece of bread to the least of these”. under my skin…when i see the hard work of one who hasn’t eaten in days and probably hasn’t been paid in a year.

...haven't quite finished processing this....so i leave this for now

i learned a few new things the other night that i can add to my Congo repetoire:

* trying to get down a particular snap of the wrist & finger that can mean: something is really good or i'm all mixed up

* there is a very sketchy airline (for cargo & 4 passengers) called "MANGO" if you don't like fruit salad, it isn't recommended you fly with them

* had to add this one: Rwanda is now becoming "the purpose driven country" (seriously labeled) as rick warren's entourage has infiltrated.

* one can be stopped & charged for such "infractions" as:
- stopping before the imaginary line
- reversing back over the imaginary line
- signaling too soon
- signaling too late
- not putting up your triangle reflector when your car breaks down
- not having your fire extinguisher in the car (mandatory)
- or better yet - the fire extinguisher's date just expired
this list is of course non-exhaustive & open for price negotiations!

* you cannot leave the country (or enter airport) with congolese francs, but then in the airport they will not accept dollars if you want to buy anything!

* more mundele "white person" stories - one guy was walking through a market of like 500 people and it got totally silent as people stared, so he threw his hands up in the air and shouted "mundele, mundele"....this got everyone laughing...

* there was a "mundele" that tried running for president this last election...that meant any white person was mistaken for this man (even tho the guy was over 60 with white hair). one of my friends actually just pretended that he was him.

* the police are actually trying to crack down and "clean" things up: the latest rule is that taxis can only have 4 people in the back and 2 up front. hmmmmmmm???

let me wisk you away for 30 seconds, like the scene in amelié when she grabs the blind man by the arm and rushes him down the street, as I paint a picture for you with the sights & sounds of today. bombing down a back alley filled with garbage and the accompanying stench, chickens fly out from under our jeep. turning the corner we almost knock over a man walking with a gigantic umbrella, the kind you would find at the beach. pausing for a moment a bright blue taxi bus passes us with people hanging out of the open window frames. we stop and as I look to the right I see, within an arms reach, a neighborhood family watching the passing action. a baby’s eyes get as big as saucers at the site of the whitey on the scene. our eyes lock and just when the baby is puckering up to cry, we take off again. the vendors are chatting on the side of the road with their brightly colored goods from china that will break after a week. two soldiers are holding hands as they joke around. the butcher shop is in full swing (no pun intended). the drive continues past these sights and smells as we bounce and swerve past giant holes, pedestrians and on-coming traffic.