A crazy week of meetings

This last week was incredibly busy. We decided to take today off in order to recover. To help me process what happened, here is a journal of sorts.

Friday 15 January

We spent the day driving around Kinshasa and buying things both program- and house-related, making a dent in the list we had had for the last few months. Time is getting short since the budget year ends in February. While we were in the industrial area of the city, on our way to buy a foam mattress, Dr. Benza called to say he would be able to make it to next week’s meetings after all. We had planned Menno-Santé meetings with the coordinating doctors from 18-20 January, but had resigned ourselves to only Dr. Gaspard being there since Dr. Benza was stuck doing a vaccination campaign. So now it’s the weekend and we haven’t really planned our meetings with both doctors in mind.

Monday 18 January

Dr. Gaspard arrived at the office at 8:30 am with his suitcase. We started our meetings somewhat informally, waiting for Dr. Benza to arrive around noon. It was a national holiday so everything was very quiet and we were the only ones in the building. When Dr. Benza showed up, we realized we needed to eat lunch and our regular restaurant was closed, so we all went downtown for a shawarma sandwich. Back at the office, we discussed hard for about two more hours, and then called it a day. At home, we settled Dr. Gaspard into our guest room (Dr. Benza is staying elsewhere) and I made stir fry for supper. Made the mistake of putting in some unwashed sesame seeds right at the end – ended up being ½ sesame seeds and ½ grit: sand in every mouthful. Yuck.

Tuesday 19 January

We met at our house so as to avoid the traffic and distractions at the office. Morning meetings went well but discussions were intense. I already felt worn out by lunch. We drove to Suzanne’s house for lunch; she had made wonderful honey-baked chicken and had ordered fufu and beans from a nearby restaurant especially for the doctors. It turns out they both didn’t like the honey-baked chicken (one didn’t eat any, and one did but told me his thoughts later). And I thought the French were snobby about food! There was lots of discussion about politics during the meal, and especially the conflict in the East. It was a little stressful. After several more hours of meetings, Dr. Benza left and Dr. Gaspard and I went over reports. We got really into it and I suddenly jumped at 6 pm, realizing supper was not planned! We scrounged leftovers from the fridge: onion soup, more gritty stir-fry, some nice spagghetti. After supper and after Dr. G and John had both bathed, I wanted to have a shower but there was no more water! It turned out someone (perhaps the gardener?) had turned off the tap leading to our reservoir, so our tank was completely empty. No water until REGIDESO decided to send some (and they are far from reliable). There was about a third of a bucket of water in the bathtub – I bathed as best I could and went to bed with greasy hair, feeling anxious. John had a cold and kept getting up to try to do something about his cough.

Wednesday 20 January

I was up early and thrilled to discover that our reservoir had filled during the night. I started the day with a nice hot shower. Maman Régine came and cleaned the house today. I was so relieved and thankful for her help. I was feeling like I just couldn’t handle the responsibility of animating the meetings as well as thinking about feeding everyone. Our meetings today were the most intense yet. We had good discussions and came to agreement about most things. It just felt like there was so much to discuss, we were really pushing ourselves to get through it all and I had the unsatisfied feeling that we must have forgotten some important things. We grabbed lunch at the little restaurant at our church – fufu etc. Dr. Gaspard was distracted by a difficult situation at home in Nyanga, and we found out from Suzanne by phone that she had had to close the MCC bank account, because the bank was making her jump through so many crazy hoops in order to access MCC money. This means some uncertainty about our cash flow until we can open a new account. We finished our meetings and the doctors both left at 6, even though Maman Régine had prepared a lovely meal of fufu, beef and vegetables. In my mind this had been my attempt to end on a good note, food-wise – but Dr. Benza had already signed up for supper at his guesthouse, and Dr. Gaspard needed to make some visits before leaving the next morning. Just as they left, the power went off. John and I felt SO tired. We ate the fufu with a lot of satisfaction and then basically dragged through dishes etc. and fell into bed. Dr. Gaspard returned while we were falling asleep – he ended up eating some of the leftovers, at least. The power came back on in the night sometime.

Thursday 21 January

I was up at 5 to see Dr. Gaspard off. John slept longer since he was still struggling with a cold. We exchanged documents and reimbursed him for some of his expenses; due to our cash flow problems we can’t cover everything and will have to transfer the rest next week. We had arranged a ride to the airport for him and waved him out at 10 to 6. I managed to sleep a little longer. Around 8, Dr. Delphin (a CEFMC doctor based in Kinshasa) showed up while we were eating breakfast. Then Dr. Benza arrived and we set off for the Mutombo Marie hospital about an hour’s drive away. We had arranged a meeting with one of the hospital administrators who had developed an accounting system that we were interesting in seeing. It was an interesting visit and we all came away with some questions, which we discussed in the car on the way home. We dropped the doctors off in Bandal and drove on to the MCC office, where we picked up some cash from Suzanne and had a much-needed little debriefing with her. After that we had a quick lunch at a simple restaurant nearby and went home for a nap. Unfortunately, the power was off again and it stayed off until around midnight. We reheated some chickpea curry on our kerosene stove, watched an episode of Little Mosque on the Prairie, and tried to sleep despite heat, noise and barking dogs. The power came on around midnight, allowing us to turn on our A/C and get the welcome white noise that made sleep possible.

Friday 22 January

I was really hoping for a relaxing morning today, since I felt totally worn down from all the meetings and knew we still needed to meet with Dr. Benza in the afternoon. Maman Régine arrived at 9; we left at 9:30 to drop off some laundry at Suzanne’s and to visit Suzanne, Kendra and the beautiful twins (Suzanne and Tim’s son David and daughter-in-law Kendra recently adopted Desmond and Amari; see their blog). I could have spent all day with those babies; holding Desmond was so relaxing and made the stress of meetings start to fade. But we couldn’t stay, we had to rush on to do several errands. The main one was stopping to look at generators that we need to buy for the doctors’ offices. We found what we wanted, consulted with doctors by phone, and left ready to make an order. On our way to the next spot (swimming pool) I was talking on the phone when I saw a crowd of about 10 police start moving to stop us as we rode along Justice. We sped up and veered in order to avoid them; it felt like we were in a movie police chase scene! They were yelling at us and waving sticks, saying that we were “aventuriers”. We were a little perplexed and then shocked when we reached the next intersection and a very nice policeman stopped us and told us that section of Justice was now a one-way. After that we had to make a lengthy detour along the boulevard to reach our destination. I was so relieved to have escaped from the first set of police, because I knew we would have spent hours in negotiation with them; but the whole incident made me feel a little shaky and stressed. A swim helped. Back to pick up the laundry and then home for some lunch before Dr. Benza’s arrival for some more one-on-one meetings. The power was off AGAIN. This is highly unusual and we were starting to get really frustrated. I even started crying – a mixture of fatigue, stress, and simply feeling overwhelmed. I had a bit of a rest and read a book for a while until Dr. Benza showed up. He was really tired too, so we just had a very calm, low-key meeting and talked through a few reports. After he left we planned to go to Suzanne and Kendra’s for supper. I had been looking forward to it all afternoon. It was raining and traffic was almost completely stopped. We ended up sitting in traffic for about 1.5 hours and then passersby started saying that the road was closed; so we turned around, got some fast food, and went home. To our great relief the power was back on.

Saturday 23 January

Our work week was not quite over yet – Drs. Delphin, Pierre and Benza needed to do an ultrasound demonstration in our livingroom in the morning. It was very interesting for everyone. After that we said goodbye to Dr. Benza and we were finally on our own again! It felt good.

Wow… reading over it all again I realize this was an exceptionally busy and stressful week. A couple of things made it harder: the money situation, John’s cold, and our inability to plan for Dr. Benza’s unexpected presence. I am very thankful for Maman Regine’s help during the week, for Suzanne’s support, and for this day off to recover and process. I think we’re ready to go back to the office tomorrow. It’s 10 pm now – good night!

Vacation in Kenya

We had a wonderful vacation in Kenya during the month of December. We spent it with Marti and Jonathan Pageau-Vrastiak and their family, who are MCC workers in Kenya and who used to work in Congo, and with Matt and Stephanie Kistler, also MCC workers with whom we had attended orientation last February. It was great to see old friends again! We spent two weeks on the coast near Mombasa, sharing a spacious house right on the ocean. It was an amazing place to be. We spent our time enjoying sea breezes, snorkeling, swimming, eating fresh seafood, reading, playing board games, and best of all, making no important decisions. It could not have been more relaxing!

On our arrival in Nairobi, I was craning my head in all directions so as not to miss anything: well-kept public areas planted with flowers, shopping centres that were clearly functioning, taxibuses that didn’t look like they were about to fall apart, roadside vendors that looked like they had enough to eat. Our stay in Kenya made me want to congratulate Kenyans for three things: their middle class, their tourist sector, and their relative lack of corruption.

First, it feels really comfortable and pleasant to be part of a middle class again instead of a tiny, privileged minority. Being ultra-rich as in Congo seems to beget a lot of feelings of anxiety and angst. While shopping with Marti, I was surprised to see regular Kenyans all around me buying coffee, stylish clothes, groceries from the supermarket – things reserved for expatriates or the ultra-rich in Congo. Browsing at Nakumatt, a huge grocery store, I found myself feeling an unfamiliar emotion – after thinking a moment, I realized I was feeling relieved that there were so many people in the store, all buying Christmas groceries – because it meant that all those people would not be hungry that night. In Congo, the knowledge that hungry people are all around me is a constant burden, though I didn’t know until that moment that it was having such an effect on me.

Second, Kenya is reaping the benefits of a successful tourist sector, and visitors like us can feel very comfortable in a tourist role. In Kenya, we were able to buy a tourist visa with no hassle on our arrival. We enjoyed staying at a safari lodge, doing a superbly organized snorkeling tour, and browsing in shops dedicated to the promotion of Kenyan products. In Congo, the role of tourist seems to be unknown. It’s common, for example, to be watched like a hawk and asked to pay a fine for using a camera in a “tourist” site. At the airport, officials look for any abnormality in your papers to give you a hard time – so instead of feeling welcomed as a tourist you feel that you are welcome as a rich person that hundreds of people can immediately start trying to suck dry.

Third, though people tell us there is a lot of corruption in Kenya, it seems to be better-hidden than the blatant corruption of Congo. The airport blew us away – no one bothered us. After sailing through immigration and the baggage claim, we were just about to leave the airport when some people in uniform called out to me. My first reaction was to think that the past few minutes had indeed been a fluke, and now reality had switched back on – I should have remembered that one can’t leave an airport that easily. But to my surprise, all they wanted was to ask if we needed help with anything – without asking anything in return! We also enjoyed seeing so few police on the road.

The fact that we got such a kick out of “escaping” to Kenya for a few weeks showed us the extent to which we felt tired and worn out after almost ten months in the Congo. On our return, we felt well-rested and much more relaxed, but also very conscious that we would need to make a serious effort to live wisely in this context, so as to avoid becoming over-tired. We think this mostly involves scheduling enough time for exercise and rest, and forcing ourselves to accept that we can’t get as much done on a regular day as we could in Canada. We have to allow ourselves to accept that we will get tired more quickly when we are constantly exposed to the stress of thousands of desperate people around us, and experiencing daily traffic jams, pollution, noise and harassment. Also, to be fair, we need to enjoy the things that do work well in Kinshasa – such as the fact that Kinshasa, despite its poverty, is in general a safer city than Nairobi. In our next posts you can judge for yourselves how well we are keeping our New Year’s resolution.

Wow – trains, trucks and well-paved roads!

Vipingo beach house

One morning John and I went for a sail with local fishermen – here they are coming to pick us up.

John is a true water animal.

A view from a sunset sailing trip

We played a lot of board games while at the coast: Power Grid, Carcassonne, Dutch Blitz and Porto Rico

I wanted to drive an Land Rover, if only for a few minutes!

John and I saw these during an early morning drive.

Two waterbucks fighting outside the game lodge where we spent the night on our way to the coast.

Steph and Matt Kistler, Marti and Jonathan Pageau-Vrastiak, John and Anicka

We had a great time!

Nos aventures dans une zone minière (Voyage à Tshikapa et Nyanga, 5-14/11/09)

(Les photos se trouvent à la fin)

Nous revenons de notre voyage à Kikwit vers la fin octobre avec une longue liste de tâches à faire – il faut écrire des rapports, négocier certaines choses avec le dépôt pharmaceutique, faire le point avec Tim. En ce temps nous habitons chez Tim jusqu’à la fin octobre; ensuite nous déménageons dans un auberge pas loin de notre nouvelle maison pour les premiers jours de novembre. Nous avions espéré pouvoir déménager dans la nouvelle maison au début novembre, mais les travaux ne sont pas encore achevés. Ce temps est rempli d’appels téléphoniques et de discussions avec les ouvriers sur tous les aspects du travail : pompe à eau, couleur de la peinture, disposition des prises et des interrupteurs, finition des meubles de la cuisine, etc. C’est un peu stressant d’être sans vraie maison; on nous assure que tout sera prêt à notre retour de Tshikapa et Nyanga le 14 novembre; entre-temps je tombe malade avec un mauvais rhûme; nous assistons à une conférence de médecins mennonites congolais à Kinshasa, et nous cherchons des casques, des chemises à manches longues et des châpeaux pour porter lors de notre prochaine voyage. Enfin, nous partons tôt le matin le 5.

Ce que nous découvrons tout de suite, c’est que Tshikapa et Kikwit sont deux mondes presque complètement différents, même si les deux villes ont environ la même population (autour de 800.000 selon des estimations toutefois pas très fiables). À Kikwit il y a des routes asphaltés et des taxis qui circulent. À Tshikapa, aucune asphalte; les routes sont très sablonneuses; on voit une ou deux jeeps privées mais ce sont surtout des motos qui circulent. Après la pluie, on circule avec difficulté même à pied, à cause de la boue et des grandes flaques d’eau.

Mais les différences vont bien au-delà de l’apparence des routes. Tout d’abord, Tshipaka est une ville dimantifère tandis que Kikwit se trouve dans une province agricole. À Kikwit il y a plusieurs écoles et instituts techniques; on sent que les gens ont soif d’étudier. Par contre, on estime que plus que 75% pourcent des hommes à Tshikapa s’impliquent ou ont été impliqué dans le diamant. Les jeunes hommes passent leur temps avec un passoir à chercher dans les rivières ou ailleurs. On ne peut pas faire deux pas sans voir au moins un comptoir d’achat de diamants. Par exemple, même notre hôtel est en même temps un comptoir d’achat, et au milieu de notre première nuit là-bas on se réveille brusquement à cause des cris très forts d’un groupe d’hommes. Le lendemain on nous dit que ce n’était pas des cris de colère mais de joie à cause d’un bon prix d’achat. Personnellement, je préfère dormir tranquille.

Même sans connaître tous les aspects de l’économie à Tshikapa, on sent que la mentalité des gens est très différente qu’au Bandundu. À Kikwit, on paie peut-être 1000 à 2000 FC aux agents de la DGM (Direction générale de la migration, département gouvernemental qui se fait un plaisir de suivre de très près tous les mouvements des gens, surtout des expatriés). Déjà là-bas on se sent parfois frustré par ce qu’on voit comme l’extortion et les abus de pouvoir. Mais à Tshikapa, après avoir payé autour de 3000 à l’aéroport, il faut encore aller en ville voir le grand chef de la DGM pour « ouvrir un dossier », ce qui « coûte » environ 50$ (on a d’abord demandé 100$). Pour savoir combien donner, nous suivons toujours les conseils du Dr. Gaspard; selon lui, c’est toujours la même chose chaque fois qu’il essaie de faire visiter un étranger à Tshikapa. Mais ce n’est pas encore fini… le soir de notre deuxième jour, vers 18h00, deux agents de l’ANR (l’Agence nationale des renseignement – un peu comme la FBI du Congo) viennent nous voir à notre hôtel. Ils sont très impolis et aggressifs, et nous disent qu’on doit absolument venir tout de suite au bureau central, qu’on doit donner nos passeports, etc. Heureusement nous avons fait assez de temps au Congo pour savoir qu’on n’a pas toujours besoin d’obéir aux agents de l’état; on appelle le docteur qui les gronde au téléphone et qui les rappelle qu’aucun bureau est ouvert à 18h00; ils partent en ayant encore l’audacité de nous demander de l’argent de transport (pas de taxi à Tshikapa!!).

Notre hôtel, le Mamuding 2, est un peu louche. La chambre est assez propre, mais dans le couloir on demande à John s’il a besoin d’un « Viagra » traditionnel pour sa concubine; à 8h le matin les serveuses dans le restaurant sont en train de boire du whisky. Notre séjour à Tshikapa se prolonge au-delà de ce qu’on avait prévu pour plusieurs raisons et le docteur est occupé à faire des chirurgies; on doit donc rester trois pleins jours dans cet hôtel avec rien du tout à faire. En plus, le docteur nous conseille de ne pas circuler seul. À la fin je sens que je vais craquer. Le jour où on veut quitter pour Nyanga, je me réveille avec la nausée et la diarrhée – mais je ne peux pas imaginer de reporter encore notre départ. Après, avec le docteur, on parlera du « cachot Mamuding ». Je m’efforce à me préparer, et on part sur deux motos, John seul sur l’un et moi avec le docteur.

Nous avons 96 km à faire, sur des routes très sablonneuses. Ça commence assez bien à 8h30, mais je me sens nerveuse à chaque fois qu’on perd John de vue; pour lui les parties sablonneuses sont les plus difficiles et il doit beaucoup ralentir pour traverser, tandis que le docteur traverse à 60 km à l’heure (dans le sable, on a deux choix : soit on roule très vite, soit on ralentit pour presque marcher). Je suis surprise de voir les routes plein de gens car il est dimanche matin; partout on croise des femmes avec des bassins de manioc sur la tête, pas du tout comme au Bandundu où nos voyages le dimanche étaient très tranquilles. Le docteur me dit qu’ici, personne ne veut laisser passer l’occasion de faire un peu d’argent. Il me dit aussi que je dois arrêter de regarder en arrière, pour ne pas déstabiliser la moto. Le vent dans le visage aide avec la nausée, mais quand on s’arrête pour traverser un fleuve en pirogue, je vomis… Après ça, on continue quelques minutes avant d’avoir une crevaison chez John. On doit arrêter dans un village pendant environ 1h30 pour réparer le trou dans la chambre à air. Encore deux séances de vomissements et de diarrhée. Je dois même changer d’habits, cachée derrière une maison. Je me sens assez misérable! Enfin, on roule encore pendant environ deux heures pour arriver à Nyanga à 16h00. Et là je commence aussi à reprendre de l’appétit; on dirait que quelque chose mangé la veille m’avait donné une sérieuse indigestion. Le lendemain je sens encore mieux. Quel soulagement!

C’est un plaisir de retrouver Nyanga, car on avait bien aimé notre première visite au mois d’avril. On passe environ quatre jours là-bas en travaillent avec les agents de l’hôpital. Ceci incluait la revérification de l’inventaire, la formation du personnel sur la façon de compléter les rapports, et un aperçu sur les procédures de base de gestion des médicaments.

En plus du travail sur les rapports, il s’avère important que nous partagions des détails spécifiques du programme Menno-Santé avec le personnel hospitalier. Nous apprenons par le Dr. Gaspard que des rumeurs avaient circulé au sein du personnel au sujet des augmentations substantielles de salaire qu’ils allaient avoir sous peu, et au sujet de l’argent que le Dr. Gaspard ne faisait soi-disant pas arriver aux travailleurs. Notre présence là pour corroborer les explications du Dr. Gaspard concernant le budget de Menno-Santé et son impact réel sur le salaire du personnel, et pour confirmer qu’effectivement les médicaments ne devaient pas être donnés gratuitement, est une manière de le protéger du soupçon et des accusations. Nyanga est le seul des quatre hôpitaux dans le programme où le personnel exprime une telle méfiance : encore un rappel que la culture des zones minières du Kasaï Occidental est tout à fait différente de celle du Bandundu. Nous devrons suivre de près l’impact que de telles attitudes pourraient avoir sur le programme à l’avenir.

Le retour à Tshikapa est beaucoup plus facile que l’aller – cette fois, John est passager avec un chauffeur plus expérimenté, et nous n’avons pas de crevaison. Pas d’aventures cette fois, sauf d’être témoins d’une bagarre entre des jeunes hommes à la recherche de diamants sur le rive du fleuve qu’on droit traverser. On a juste une nuit à passer à l’hôtel avant de rentrer et j’ai bien hâte. Malheureusement, l’avion qui devait atterrir à Tshikapa vers 11h ne vient qu’à 16h00; toute la journée il pleut très fortement et je commence à avoir peur qu’on doit rester encore jusqu’à lundi (pas de vol le dimanche). Quand on entend finalement l’avion on se presse pour aller à l’aéroport en moto, même sous la pluie. À la toute fin on doit encore négocier avec des gens qui se disent du « Bureau de mobilisation des recettes » et qui perçoivent un taxe supplémentaire aux passagers. On ne peut pas croire qu’ils disent vrai, surtout avec un nom pareil, mais à la fin on paie et ils nous donnent même un reçu super officiel. Je me sens tellement soulagée d’être enfin dans l’avion.

En arrivant à Kinshasa le soir on dirait que tout est si calme et ordonné, même l’embouteillage qui nous attend sur la route… Nous avons eu une bonne dose du Kasaï et nous aurons besoin d’un peu de temps pour tout digérer. Pour l’instant je dois dire que je n’ai pas très envie d’y retourner bientôt.

Notre hôtel à Tshikapa/Comptoir d’achat de diamants

Notre chambre à l’hôtel Mamuding

Le restaurant de l’hôtel

Dr. Gaspard devant sa moto

John sur sa moto

Les motos traversent le fleuve d’abord; nous suivons après. Sur l’autre rive la recherche de diamants se poursuit.

Ici nous devons descendre à pied car le chemin est difficile pour la moto.

En bas de la descente, en allant vers la traversée du fleuve

Chez lui à Nyanga, le docteur remplace la chambre à air pour éviter des pannes au retour

Anicka lit des rapports dans le salon du docteur

Le dépôt pharmaceutique à l’hôpital. Les médicaments sont stockés ici avant d’être vendus à la pharmacie.

Dr. Gaspard et Anicka travaillent avec l’AG et le secrétaire-comptable à Nyanga

Out of the dysfunction and into the blog

I really like to read a blog post that is well written – one that it is coherent, clearly required some thought (reflective, creative, or otherwise), and a bit of humor usually helps. Recent examples: (Lost and Found, a pot of borscht, Kinshasa Journal #27, Message from the Mainland). Unfortunately, my own writing skills don’t meet my expectations in this regard and this doesn’t help me get started. So, by the time I feel compelled to sit down and actually start writing something I usually have about 10 things I’ve been mulling about over the last few weeks. Most ideas are usually still in a kind of dysfunctional mush in my mind, but there are often some nuggets of (personal) realization that are begging to be released from the dysfunction if only into a draft. Maybe I should just journal, or something – but that sounds too boring to me and not nearly motivating enough.

OK – enough whining (as my brother Lauren often tells me) and on to the writing.

Greedy algorithm

One phenomenon that I’ve noticed since arriving is that many Congolese seem to have very little confidence in formal systems (financial, political and others). One might have guessed this would be the case just by reading a little about the history of the Congo where the majority of formal financial and political systems known to the population were created and used by brutal colonial rule and dictatorship to extract as much wealth as possible while offering little or no compensation. If you need convincing, read “Leopold’s Ghost” by Adam Hochschild, or “In the footsteps of Mr. Kurtz” by Michela Wrong. So there is consequently little surprise that many people generally think in terms of short term gain even at the expense of a long term gain – “What can I do to make a small gain in the very immediate future because who knows what tomorrow holds”. In some circles this kind of strategy is known as the Greedy Algorithm. This kind of thinking and resulting behavior, albeit completely understandable, does not seem to be conducive to community development (however you define it) which requires at least some hope that if we work together as a community we’ll all benefit much more than if we do everything ourselves. I can’t help but think this is a bit ironic because we often accuse the Westerner of being individualistic and selfish – and yet the Westerner is relatively rich. I think one reason is that the Westerner has figured out how to use the principles of community and teamwork to maximum his individual gain (along with an striking capacity to exploit the dis-empowered). So the means (long-term investment/community development) help the West reach its desired end (individual wealth accumulation). But I’m going off on a tangent – my realization was simply that the Congolese’s lack of faith in any kind of organized system seems to prevent them from exploring and experiencing the incredible potential of mutually beneficial relationships. It seems to me that these types of relationships, which require people to have a spirit of trust and shared responsibility, could help develop a stronger national identity which I would assume would have a positive effect in diminishing the violence and continued exploitation that this country is sadly afflicted with. However, there are many companies and countries who continue to profit from the Congolese mineral wealth (not much has changed since King Leopold II first started exploiting the Congo in 1877) and it is unfortunately in their best interest to try to keep the Congolese people in this paralyzed state of “faithlessness”.

How can I help restore some renewed faith in people’s ability to work together and harvest the benefits together?

Related story 1

During our last visit to Nyanga hospital in the mining province of Kasai Occidental I was dismayed to see how many remnants of past development projects were lying around. In particular, there were at least four solar panel systems (solar panel, converters, batteries and inverters) that had been installed. One was recently connected to a shiny blue high-tech refrigerator for special medicines. None of the equipment was working. Some of the solar panels had been ripped off the roofs and were found lying around either for kids to amuse themselves with or just trashed. It seemed clear that there were enough pieces to make one or two solar systems work properly with a little common sense and perhaps some new battery acid etc. The hospital, thus has no source of lighting unless someone fires up the little generator. But the generator is not usually used even for surgeries as the surgeons prefer to use head-mounted flashlights. I talked with an expat here in Kinshasa who often sets up such equipment and he tells me that this is typical. So why do we (churches, NGOs, good willed people, etc.) keep bringing this kind of technology to hospital settings when it is clear that it doesn’t work in the long run? Is the idea of free electricity and reliable lighting truly not a priority for the local hospital staff? Perhaps not, and maybe one day I’ll learn more about why. But if it is a priority, what is preventing the hospital staff from taking initiative and making it work? I don’t think technology (equipment + training) is ultimately the problem.

Many Congolese have no problem finding 500-1000 FC for gas to power a generator for an hour. This is an immediate and sure way to get electricity. But try to convince him that investing in maintenance and protection for a solar system is difficult: there are too many things that could go wrong between the initial investment and his actual receiving of the benefit. Also, most people’s friends wouldn’t probably help with the initial investment or maintenance but they might chip in for gas from time to time. So, maybe it’s little like the pay-as-you-go versus the monthly cell plan. (The former is extremely popular here — it seems like almost everyone has a pay-as-you-go phone.) One is clearly cheaper but the other is far more compatible in a system in which people aren’t ready to risk waiting for their spent money to render something in return.

Related story 2

I was recently talking with one of the hospital administrators in one of the hospitals where we work. This was a fairly remote hospital with not a lot of people coming or going from one of the big cities. This man has a son studying at university in Kinshasa. The man asked if I wouldn’t mind taking some money back to Kinshasa with me to give to his son. I thought that would be fine. However, then he went on to say that actually he wanted me to take quite a bit of money and give certain amounts of it to his son when the man would see fit. Essentially he wanted to open a bank account with me and have me send some from time to time to his son. I didn’t feel comfortable doing this for obvious reasons but the thing  that really made me sad was the man’s following statement, “You know I just can’t trust black people to do this for me, so I’m asking you.” I had literally just met the man and yet he preferred trusting his money to me than to a “black person” including his own son. I think this is a good example of people not being able to trust one another because they fear the short term priority of one will trump the faith that the other has in him.

A diamond is forever impedes education

We recently visited the city of Tshikapa which is known mostly for its diamond counters. That is where people who have just dug up diamonds go to sell to middlemen who, in turn, go to Kinshasa or elsewhere to sell them again. Apparently, next to Iraq, Tshikapa has the most satellite phone connections in the world. Other than this fact, there is little “development” to speak of: no paved roads, little educational or medical infrastructure and pay-on-demand electricity for part of the village-city. We had the feeling like we were in gold rush town in the US where life was lived fast and expensively, and wealth was sucked up and exported as quickly as possible. Many friends told us that the “diamond mentality” in regions like this strongly discourages children from going to school or from investing in agriculture because families hope for the diamond (or diamonds) that will make them instantly rich and get them out of poverty. However, even when people were making lots of money on diamonds and when diamonds were easier to find, mechanisms and mentality prevented most people from saving or investing. They often spent incredible amounts of money on short-term ego building exercises (like buying beer for everyone and impressive motorbikes for themselves). Needless to say, visiting Tshikapa was a bit depressing.

Accounting 101

During the many discussions I’ve had with hospital administrators about accounting the concept of cost and price came up often. I’d ask, “What does it cost the hospital to provide service ‘x’ or product ‘y’?”, and often the response was “That costs x Francs” and I’d respond, “For the patient or for the hospital?”, and they’d respond “For the patient.” Clearly, no one considered this to be an important distinction (patient price vs. cost) except perhaps for medication prices where there was sometimes a small margin to cover transport costs. Then I’d hear stories of patients who would hear that the price of a consultation with a doctor costs x Francs and if that amount was a few Francs less than a neighboring hospital, that people would travel great distances to save a few Francs (say 10cents). In these discussions it became apparent that both hospital staff and patients weren’t used to thinking about the difference between the perceived value of a service and its price (or maybe they were but I wasn’t able to discern potentially hidden benefits such as social interaction etc.). In the past, many mission centers, such as the ones we work in, offered medical services and medication free of charge, and people became accustomed to this. Perhaps now they don’t value the medical services in the same way they do other necessities in life like food, water, and transportation for which they have always paid something for. I think this is an area where rural communities that wish to have more sustainable health structures could benefit from some basic accounting principles. I think that if hospital staff were to think more in terms of the total cost of providing a service and adjusting their prices accordingly (when possible) that the hospital would become more self-sufficient and require less state and NGO intervention to keep it running. Likewise, if the general population was more aware of the actual costs of providing the medical services they need, they might eventually ‘value’ these services more and be willing to forego some less important consumption (like beer or slaughtering a cow for a witchdoctor). I suspect that one main impediment to sustainable health care isn’t that people don’t have enough to pay for the services, but rather that they don’t value them enough. In any case, I’m very much convinced that in this context (regions of DR Congo where there is no war) providing health care for free is a very bad idea.

Health and Wealth gospel  (in a Mennonite church?)

I was surprised and very saddened to hear a pastor at our local Mennonite church pray a “health and wealth” theology prayer at the end of the service a few weeks ago. “If you give $5 [to church] than God will give you $100”. This prayer happened after his sermon where he preached that the reason “White” people where rich was because of their positive attitude and “Black” people were poor was because of their bad attitude and that “Black” people just needed to change their attitude towards God and they would be blessed with riches. I found his sermon to be wrong in so many ways I still don’t know what to say. In general, I’m finding that Mennonite churches here in the DR Congo aren’t much different than other evangelical protestant churches and certainly don’t have much of an Anabaptist theology, which is troubling and confusing to me. If they don’t care for Anabaptist theology, how can they be Mennonite?

Stress in the city

Living in Kinshasa probably the most stressful place I’ve lived. Sometimes there is an acute feeling of frustration and stress when we approach traffic police or DGM, not because we fear for our security, but rather because we feel the injustice and see the corruption firsthand. However, I think the general feeling of anxiety for me comes from being constantly on guard and exposed to 8 million people trying to survive in the chaos around them. In other words, I think I’m stressed because people around me are stressed. So, stress management has become an important part of my life since moving here. What do we do to cope? Well, (surprise, surprise), exercise and a good diet are key as well as meditation and deep breathing exercises. I try to go swimming 2-3 times a week although we’re still trying to find a pattern in our new house. A good diet always has to be worked on – we’re trying to find a reliable source of whole wheat flour to make bread with and find parasite-free fruits and vegetables (the latter is a daily challenge). Swimming is very, very helpful. On Sundays, we often go to TASOK (The American School of Kinshasa) which is just 5mins drive from our new house to play Ultimate Frisbee. That sure reminds me how much out of shape I’ve gotten… And of course, we’ve gotten sick a few times which, in my case, also often has the second effect of making me feel anxious. One other thing we try to do is get away from the city from time to time either for a weekend away or just a day away. Finding places to just relax isn’t always easy, but we have found a couple spots that are perfect. Also, I’ve enjoyed re-reading texts about theoretical computer science and piloting stimulating. There is something about problem solving and classification of computational math problems that I really enjoy (that sounds weird!). The stress probably won’t go away any time soon, but we are finding ways to manage it and transform it.

Bird’s eye view

The other day I heard a sports announcer on television say that such-and-such a soccer player was so talented because he seemed to have the ability to visualize the field from a bird’s eye view and thus pass the ball in just the right place at the right time. Sometimes I feel like we’re all playing a game of soccer here with 66 million Congolese and thousands of NGOs except the problem is that no one has a bird’s eye view (or perhaps some do but are silenced). The majority of the Congolese are just trying to scrape by and minimize their contact with any system which might make life harder for them; NGOs are generally just doing what they think they know how – but mostly just spending obscene amounts of money on non-sustainable projects and trying to legitimize their existence here; Church structures often reflect the corruption and desperation in the society that envelopes them; the various governments seem to mostly just help themselves to the country’s wealth; Western companies continue to exploit the natural resources hand-over-fist (including many Canadian companies); the UN is probably aggravating the violence in the East more than anything else; and foreign governments seem care mostly about making themselves not look too bad in light of their historical responsibility to the past and current violence. Perhaps it is not realistic to expect that a single person could ever have a bird’s eye view of the DR Congo. At the same time, if we all do our own thing we aren’t likely to change much in the long run. Friends of ours have talked to us about how it would be a very good thing for Congolese people to talk about the unhealed emotional wounds that many share from the sadly horrible colonial past in order to bring healing and renewed hope for this country. I think this would be a excellent place to start and maybe just the thing to help develop a bird’s eye perspective.

Home sweet home

Almost two months ago, Anicka and I moved out of our old apartment with the hopes of finding a new home. We weren’t sure exactly what we were looking for but we hoped to find a place that would allow us to better connect with friends and put us closer to our new church community. We’ve spent the last month or so visiting the house we now call home to give feedback on the renovations and make sure that the work was progressing. I’ve learned all sorts about plumbing including how a pressure pump works and how to hook up a hot water heater. Even though the water from the city only comes on at night, we have a reservoir that fills up and provides water during the day. Thanks to the pump we have decent pressure in our pipes and can have a nice hot shower at the end of the day. The power goes out from time to time, but not long enough for stuff in our freezer to thaw (so far!). Today we went looking for some furniture: a dining table and chairs, a bed for guests, a closet, and a couch. This evening Anicka is trying out her new foot-powered sewing machine. It will take some time before this place really feels like home, but so far we’re convinced that the effort to move has been definitely worth it.

And that is it for now. I love comments, so please do post some… -John

Adam Hochschild

Visite à Kikwit et Kanzombi

Repas avec délégation MCC

L’hôpital secondaire de Kanzombi

Nouveau pavillon à Kanzombi

Pharmacie (patients dehors)

Clinique pré-scolaire

Célébration d’une naissance

Les Drs. Benza et Gaspard

Les docteurs débattent

John et Dr. Gaspard sur la moto à Kikwit

Dr. Benza et Anicka en discussion

 

Au mois d’octobre nous avons passé une semaine à Kikwit du 16 au 24 octobre.

Du 16 au 17, nous étions accompagnés d’une délégation de MCC qui était venue passer quelques jours au Congo : le directeur pour l’Afrique, le directeur adjoint pour l’Afrique centrale et de l’Ouest, et le directeur du département de développement de programmes internationaux. Nous partageons un repas chez Tim à Kinshasa avant le voyage à Kikwit (photo 1).

Arrivés à Kikwit, nous faisons une visite de l’hôpital Kanzombi, qui vient d’être inclu dans le programme Menno-Santé (photo 2). Nous voyons tous les nouveaux médicaments à la pharmacie, et nous visitons tout l’hôpital, y compris un nouveau pavillon qui avait été commencé depuis longtemps mais qui pourrait se terminer bientôt avec le soutien du projet (photo 3).

À la pharmacie on voit que beaucoup de malades viennent acheter des médicaments (photo 4). La préposée à la pharmacie nous dit que certains médicaments sont déjà presqu’en rupture de stock, même si on avait commandé pour trois mois selon l’ancien niveau de consommation. Il va déjà falloir faire une commande extraordinaire d’ici la fin du mois. Un autre jour, au même hôpital, nous voyons une clinique pour la santé des enfants préscolaires – les enfants viennent pour être pesés et vaccinés (photo 5) Et pendant notre dernier après-midi, nous voyons cette procession de femmes et d’enfants qui se sont mis de la poudre sur le visage et qui chantent et dansent : ils célèbrent la naissance d’un enfant à la maternité (photo 6).

Après le départ de la délégation, John et moi commençons trois jours de réunions avec les médecins coordinateurs, Drs. Benza (à gauche sur la photo 7) et Gaspard. Nos réunions sont remplies de discussions animées, comme vous pouvez voir. Dans la photo 8, les deux docteurs sont en train de débattre s’il faut ou non raccourcir la liste de médicaments à commander par les hôpitaux.

En plus de faire le suivi sur les activités depuis notre dernière rencontre, nous nous penchons beaucoup sur la question de la pérennisation du projet. Maintenant que nous nous sentons tous un peu à l’aise avec le système de commandes, de livraison, et de gestion des médicaments, nous pouvons commencer à réfléchir sur l’après-projet. Nous voulons surtout planifier nos activités pour qu’à la fin du projet (en 2013), le choc de voir le projet terminer ne sera pas assez grand pour déstabiliser les hôpitaux. Il s’agit, par exemple, de commencer à faire payer l’hôpital pour les frais de transport des médicaments qui peuvent atteindre parfois jusqu’à la moitié du coût des médicaments.  Dans cette discussion, nous nous penchons sur une recherche faite par Larry Sthresthley de IMA World Health qui analyse les facteurs déterminant le niveau d’auto-suffisance financière pour un hôpital au Congo. Selon Sthreshthley, l’autosuffisance est possible pour un hôpital congolais et dépend surtout des décisions prises par les gestionnaires d’un hôpital, au lieu d’être déterminée par des facteurs extérieurs. Les grands facteurs incluent le coût approprié des services, la disponibilité des médicaments, le nombre approprié de personnel (pas trop) et la proportion des recettes propres utilisée pour le salaire (30 à 50%). À la fin de nos réunions, nous sommes tous excités des contempler l’avenir du projet; John et moi sentons que nous partageons avec les médecins un souci pour la pérennisation; les discussions étaient marquées par un esprit de collaboration et de productivité.

Les réunions terminées, Dr. Gaspard repart chez lui et John et moi restons encore quelques jours pour travailler avec les agents à Kanzombi. Nous passons notre temps en les aidant à préparer la commande extraordinaire, à réviser des conceptes de base en gestion de médicaments, et en collectionnant des données supplémentaires par rapport au fonctionnement de l’hôpital. Parfois nous débattons certains points avec le docteur Benza, qui est à la fois médecin directeur et médecin coordinateur pour cet hôpital. Dans la photo 10, nous sommes en train de discuter de la qualité des données dans les rapports officiels, qui fait parfois défaut quand les rapports sont faits par des personnes sans suffisamment de formation.

De façon générale, notre semaine à Kikwit s’est bien déroulée. Nous sommes maintenant habitués à la maison de passage où nous restons; les vendeurs dans le coin commencent à nous connaître et nous saluent au lieu de crier après nous; et nous pouvons maintenant naviguer au centre-ville en taxi. Nous prenons tous nos repas avec le docteur Benza dont la maison se trouve à environ un kilomètre; cela nous fait une petite exercice trois fois par jour. En plus, nous avons la joie de rencontrer les parents de nos amis Irène et William, qui restent tous à Kanzombi; leur hospitalité et leur simplicité nous bénit.

Prochaine article – notre visite à Tshikapa et Nyanga, dans la région dimantifère de Kasaï Occidental.

Installés… enfin!

Aujourd’hui je suis à la maison (la nouvelle maison!) dans le bureau, devant l’ordinateur, avec un café et un morceau de chocolat, et je sens que je peux enfin respirer profondément. Il fait un peu nuageux avec une petite brise et je commence à m’habituer au bruit de trafic qui est quand même pas trop mal. Aujourd’hui le bar en face de nous n’a pas mis de musique (mais même quand ils en mettent, c’est souvent une musique assez agréable – dernièrement c’était EXO qui jouait toute la journée!). Maman Régine, une dame de l’église, est en train de m’aider avec le repassage, et environ sept autres personnes sont dehors en train de faire des petits travaux (canalisation des eaux du climatiseur des voisins pour que ça ne coule plus chez nous; remplacement de soupape dans le réservoir d’eau chaude, un peu de ciment ici et là…). Tous les dix minutes il faut sortir, soit pour répondre à une question, soit payer quelqu’un.

En dépit de toute cette activité, je me sens enfin tranquille. Les mois d’octobre et de novembre ont été comme un tourbillon d’activités et de voyages, avec entretemps du travail interminable à suivre dans la nouvelle maison. Maintenant que nous sommes installés, et que les voyages sont finis pour cette année, nous sommes beaucoup plus en paix.

Je veux raconter un peu le voyage et nos aventures à Tshikapa, mais d’abord, voici quelques photos de la maison, prises mercredi passé quand nous avons eu les clés. Je suis très contente avec la couleur de la peinture au salon – après beaucoup de casse-têtes, c’est exactement ce que j’avais envisionné. La salle à manger est encore très vide, mais on va faire faire une table en bois, et je prendrais un coin pour la machine à coudre que je viens d’acheter hier. Il s’avère plus économique d’acheter une machine et de faire moi-même tous les rideaux que de payer quelqu’un d’autre de les faire – et après je pourrai en profiter pour des modifications aux vêtements, etc. La machine n’est pas électrique donc je peux coudre même pendant les délestages, qui arrivent tous les quelques jours pendant plusieurs heures. Dans la cuisine, les comptoirs sont en bois massif. C’est notre plus belle cuisine depuis qu’on s’est mariés!

J’ajouterai plus de photos au fur et à mesure que les chambres sont arrangées.

Salon

Salle à manger

Machine à coudre

Cuisine

John fait la vaisselle

Lost and found

Recently a friend of ours was talking about the reasons why many missionary kids (MKs) come back to work in the countries they grew up in, often doing work similar to what their parents did. She stated fairly unequivocally that she thought a lot of MKs simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a power trip. Growing up in a missionary family (perhaps especially in the Congo), they experienced a lot of power and privilege because of their position, their money, and their white skin. She thought they must feel more comfortable in that privileged position than in their home countries, where they would be seen simply as regular people if not outright misfits.

I felt upset and unjustly accused by this assessment, though I know my friend wasn’t talking about me personally. I went home and moped about it for an evening, and continued to think about it regularly. I felt frustrated, because I had always had a different and much more flattering theory for why many MKs choose to follow in their parents’ footsteps. In my view, Westerners who do cross-cultural work, including missionaries, have to struggle for years to learn local languages and cultures. They generally fail to “get it” in significant ways – and people who don’t “get” another culture often look down on it. But their children, who experience this different culture during their formative years, have a greater capacity to feel genuinely at home, and to develop authentic relationships. Despite the economic disparity and the privilege that MKs experience, they can get closer to this other culture than their parents can, can be more truly a part of it, and are thus more qualified to do this kind of work later in life. Personally, I grew up watching other missionaries acting on the belief that they were superior to local people – and I found it easier to reject this belief because I was a child. So MKs who choose to go back and work where they grew up or in another cross-cultural setting are doing so because they have developed an aptitude for this kind of work, and it makes sense to do what you’re good at. Right?

I still think my theory has some merit, but my friend’s statement raised the disturbing question: have I chosen my life work because I have truly developed a greater-than-average capacity for cross-cultural relationships, or is it precisely because the comfort of being treated as superior is so attractive that I am back here in the Congo, in the powerful position of expatriate development worker?

This question niggled at me for a while, and then just when I thought I had laid it to rest, a few weeks ago all the disquiet and anxiety came rushing back after having spent some time on TASOK campus. First, some background:

A good number of the expatriates living in Kinshasa live on the campus of The American School of Kinshasa (TASOK). Besides being a school, this is a big piece of real estate in Ngaliema that houses maybe 30-40 expatriate families. When you drive around past those houses, it feels very much like Ukarumpa (the SIL mission compound where I spent some of my growing-up years). It’s a little piece of the West in terms of house style, screened-in porches, General Electric stoves, grassy lawns. All surrounded by a high fence topped with barbed-wire, and guarded 24 hours (to be fair, having a barbed-wire fence and 24-hour guards is pretty much par for the course for the “have” class in Kinshasa, and is in no way unique to TASOK). Some of the residents are missionaries; others are teachers working for the school (which is a non-profit school, but is no longer run by missionaries as in the past; many of the students are embassy kids). Others work for the US Foreign Service or for NGOs (both faith-based and not). There are two soccer fields, basketball, volleyball and tennis courts, a pool and a library club. John enjoys participating in Sunday afternoon Ultimate Frisbee games, and I enjoy using the pool and walking around the well-treed campus without being hassled by street children and vendors. We know several of the people who live on campus through frisbee games and from other contexts.

As we have chatted with the TASOK residents over the last few months, we have been struck by the extent to which some seem to be insulated from Kinshasa life around them. Although the wall around TASOK is an obvious barrier, there seem to be lots of additional barriers that keep them from walking outside, taking a taxi, and interacting with others around the city. Some families don’t (or barely) speak French. Some had attended an orientation when they arrived at which they were told never to take a taxi. According to them, some expats take taxis when they first arrive, but they all end up dropping that habit due to peer pressure. Others refer to the text messages that the embassies send out warning about crimes and other unsafe situations – their discourse suggests they know all about the bad stuff, but they’re not on any mailing list telling them about all the countless normal, friendly and pleasant interactions that go on every day. I got the feeling that in the view of some Kinshasa expats, they are living in a city that is unsafe for white people. As a result, they withdraw into a world of Embassy parties, TASOK functions, frisbee games, film nights, weekly shopping trips together with a group, and English-speaking church services.

You can see that I’m making a very harsh assessment. Undoubtedly I’ve misconstrued the situation after only interacting with a few people. The point (at least for this post) is that at one point I began to feel so anxious and depressed, I couldn’t shake it off for several days. Why would this affect me so much? At first I thought it was because I was a really enlightened person, who would naturally get upset when seeing any kind of segregation system. So I felt righteous for a few days and started strategizing about how to break down the walls of separation between cultures. Then I started thinking about this whole MK thing again. TASOK campus freaks me out because it feels like Ukarumpa. And Ukarumpa is where many missionary children grow up learning that local people are inferior, Other, and threatening. I was lucky to be one of the children who also spent significant time living in a village instead of spending my entire childhood on this compound; this allowed me to see the discrimination for what it was.

So finally, here is the connection between my discomfort about my motivations as a second-generation “missionary” and the unease I felt on campus. First, it’s the realization that the campus feels comfortable at the very same time as it feels repulsive – one of my coping strategies in Kinshasa is segregation, just as it is for many other expats. Those film nights sound so appealing, and the pool is so pleasant! It is so nice to take a break from the heat and intensity of city life. Second, there is the realization that I grew up on a place like TASOK campus, and I can’t expect it not to have affected me. I am who I am because of a place very similar to TASOK. And as I mostly like who I am, this means that I have to thank TASOK-places for something. Third, if I’m upset about how TASOK-think can mess people up, it’s also because I myself have been messed up by TASOK-think. This is undoubtedly true, even though, fifth, I honestly think that I have spent much of my life’s energy trying to throw off TASOK/Ukarumpa-think, such that when I encounter it again it makes me feel kind of depressed.

Recently, I began to realize that if I was uncomfortable with my friend’s assessment of second-generation MKs, it was probably because I was taking myself too seriously. I’ve started to toy around with the idea that I am not automatically better than other people because I am an MK (I’m almost ashamed to admit that this isn’t as easy a conclusion for me to reach as you might think). If you know me, you know that I’m a very competitive person – and that I pursue winning quite seriously (winning a scholarship, getting the best mark on the test, being the best in my job, having the best life, being the best “missionary”, that kind of thing). Recently I’ve hit against a couple of places where I’m not winning – seeing others who are non-MKs and who are clearly better at their jobs and at relating to Congolese people than I am. Seeing friends who have families and realizing that I have not “made it” in that particular way. Seeing my sister start a PhD before me. It is kind of freeing, actually, to realize that I don’t have to keep up a winning streak, that it is OK to be a regular person just like everyone else. The rest of you have probably already figured this out, but hey, I’ll try not to mind being slow to catch on.

A chapter by Barbara Brown Taylor in her book, “An Altar in the World”, has helped me to relax a little and appreciate this freedom. She writes about “the practice of getting lost” and concludes like this:

It can happen anywhere, in all kinds of ways. You can get lost on your way home. You can get lost looking for love. You can get lost between jobs. You can get lost looking for God. However it happens, take heart. Others before you have found a way in the wilderness, where there are as many angels as there are wild beasts, and plenty of other lost people too. All it takes is one of them to find you. All it takes is you to find one of them. However it happens, you could do worse than to kneel down and ask a blessing, remembering how many knees have kissed this altar before you.

(from An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, HarperOne, 2009: p. 86.

In the end, I can lay the restless anxious feeling aside again only when I remember that all of us – TASOK residents, MKs on power trips, Embassy staff, and those who guard us, sell food to us, befriend us, and worship with us, are all lost in our own way. All it takes is for us to find each other.

PS If you’re an Ukarumpa or TASOK resident who finds my characterization inaccurate or offensive, please feel free to comment. I would be happy to continue a dialogue by e-mail.

Nguma no 16, Quartier Joli-parc, Ngaliema

Cet après-midi nous sommes allés voir de nouveau la maison no 7 à Kintambo, cette fois-ci avec Tim, notre superviseur. Après un peu de discussion, nous nous sommes décidés d’aller de l’avant pour louer cette maison. Je me sentais mieux en voyant la maison pour la deuxième fois – elle me semblait plus accueillante que la dernière fois, et les carreaux semblaient moins laids aussi!

Je me sens bien avec notre décision, et je commence déjà à imaginer notre nouveau chez-nous – les barbecues dehors, les soirées avec amis, la facilité qu’on aura d’inviter des gens chez nous après l’église, les tasses de thé tranquilles sur le balcon, les sorties à pied pour acheter des légumes au marché…

Cependant, nous avons tous reconnu qu’il y aura beaucoup de travail à faire dans la maison avant qu’on puisse y habiter. Demain nous irons parler plus en détail avec le propriétaire, en espérant qu’on pourra se mettre d’accord sur une liste de travaux à faire avant que nous ne déménagions. Selon Tim, ça pourrait prendre quand même quelques mois. On doit aussi parler avec l’avocat que MCC retient pour ce genre d’affaire – il nous aidera à rédiger un bail. Avec un peu de chance, on déménagera le 1er novembre.

Voici quelques photos prises aujourd’hui.

On monte cet escalier pour entrer dans la cour. Une rue bien fréquentée se trouve à gauche.

L’entrée principale est bien ensoleillée en après-midi.

J’aime beaucoup ce balcon privé.

En entrant, la grandeur du salon/salle à manger nous déroute quand même. Qu’est-ce qu’on fera avec tout cet espace?

On sort du salon pour entrer dans un couloir sombre qui mène vers les chambres et la cuisine. Les portes en bois ajoutent un bel accent.

La fenêtre de la grande chambre donne sur la cour.

La deuxième chambre ressemble au troisième; celle-ci donne sur un coin arrière de la cour avec robinet non fonctionnelle.

La salle de bain est adéquate, mais on n’a pas encore vu l’eau couler.

Nous trouvons que la cuisine a du potentiel; ce comptoir sera remplacé.

On voit la porte de la cuisine qui donne sur la cour; la fenêtre est celle de la grande chambre.

Il y a quatre arbres dans la cour: ce palmier, un avocatier, un papayer, et un autre dont on ignore le nom.

La clôture à gauche nous sépare de la rue.

Ce petit passage mène vers la clôture principale (à droite) et l’entrée principale avec balcon (à gauche).

Housing update

I’m writing this from the office after a frantic morning dealing with orders, contracts and medication prices. We’re on our way now to see house #7 together with Tim, our supervisor. If he gives his OK and we don’t see anything major and scary that we missed last time, we will go ahead and rent this place.

It was fun to read everyone’s thoughts about the different housing options. Thanks for your input! House number 6 (Bandal, friendly neighborhood) ended up no longer being an option because we learned that getting the current occupants to move out would be next to impossible (note to all apartment-hunters in Kinshasa – only look at empty places!). So that left number 7. We’ll update again once we get back tonight, hopefully with photos.

À l’église

Nouvelle tenue. J’ai essayé un nouveau tailleur; j’ai dû aller chez un deuxième tailleur pour des modifications après; faire faire des vêtement est tout un défi.

Nouvelle chemise

Chorale des jeunes fille à l’église; presque tous les dimanches elles chantent et/ou nous conduisent dans la louange

La chorale des mamans (dans ce contexte ça veut dire femmes mariées). C’est ma deuxième fois de participer.

Which of these seven houses would you choose to rent?

Over the last week we’ve considerably stepped up the pace in our search for a new place to live. Probably the driving factor was the return of Tim from the US and our move back to our apartment.  Some background for those of you who don’t read French: We made a definite decision to move a few months ago; we’ve cancelled our lease effective October 1st. We’ll be moving within Kinshasa rather than moving to Bandundu. Our hope is to find a place in a neighborhood where we’ll be closer to church but not too far from the office. We also hope to pay less ( or at least not more) than we pay now (1150$/month including water, garbage, guard and electricity).

As we’ve started the hunting process, we’ve learned several important things. One is that in Kinshasa you cannot get away from ‘commissionnaires’ – they are your ticket to seeing places that are for rent, since no “For Rent” signs are hung out here. You have to pay a month’s rent to the commissionnaire who finds you a place – a motivation for unscrupulous commissionnaires to inflate the rent price. The solution for us has been to have some of our friends dealing directly with the commissionnaires. It seems that in Congo, many transactions are broken down into as many sub-transactions as possible, to allow as many people as possible to be involved. This applies at the grocery store, where there are separate people to tally up your groceries, take your money, bag your stuff, and check your receipt at the door. For house-hunting, having someone to deal with who cares about us at least a little and who has an interest in having us find a good, secure, suitable place to live, has been very helpful. We have one friend looking in Bandal neighborhood, and another two are scouting around in Kintambo (a neighborhood adjacent to Gombe, so near the office, and also near the church). Kintambo is a central place for many taxi lines and also the location of our church; Bandal is adjacent to Kintambo.

Yesterday we saw four houses and today we saw three more. Here is what they were like (in case you are thinking of moving to Kinshasa, this can help you with your budgeting!).

1. Out in GB neighborhood, behind the large mosque, not too far from Kintambo. Quite near the massive Médecins sans frontières « village » and a large UN compound. As we approached the house, our impression was of high fences, fancy construction, and few people on the street. We had to drive through two HUGE potholes filled with water and saw other signs of erosion – already we were feeling pretty hesitant, thinking we could get shut behind those puddles during rainy season. The house was on a quiet (almost dead) street; inside the gate there was mostly concrete, with a few plants and shrubs along the border. We were semi-interested in the nice-looking yellow-painted house until we realized the landlord would be living in the same courtyard and cooking his meals right outside our kitchen. The decorating style inside was very tasteless – those awful shiny white tiles that are impossible to keep clean, a false ceiling that was crooked, and walls being painted a blinding white. Halls were narrow and bedrooms very small. The landlord wasn’t interesting in putting mosquito nets up and said we should just shut the windows and turn up the air conditioning. Then it emerged that he had several children and the image of sharing a courtyard with “just one bachelor” disappeared. It didn’t take us long to scratch this one from our list – not a good feeling about this landlord overall, and our friend agreed. The asking price: 700 $.

2. The second house was nearby, also in a shared courtyard; the other house was for rent for 2000 $. This one was 700$, and was tucked in behind and slightly up from the main house. There were lots of flowers and plants out front. The minute our friend saw it he rebuked the commissionnaire for having even taken us to see it. John said he saw some major structural problems; I was too busy looking at the flowers but also feeling uncomfortable about the location in a very ritzy neighborhood.

3. Number three was located inside a compound with many other houses all in a row. It was on the property of the Bamoyo Institute (a private educational institution), well-placed and very near Kintambo Magasin, opposite a large Catholic cathedral. While we were waiting for the commissionnaires to get the key, a man in a car came up and talked loudly and rudely with our friend, questioning why we were here. Our friend suspected it was a member of the Bamoyo family. The key was not available, so we just went in and looked at the house from the outside. To get there, you had to go through a gate along a narrow passage past about 8 other houses, all with steps leading up to them. The one we came to see was a second-floor apartment with no ground access. We immediately told the commissionnaire not to bother about getting us inside and moved on to…

4. … a house near the Velodrome (probably a 15-minute walk from Kintambo church and a short drive to the office). This was the first house we had seen yet that was on its own in a courtyard. There were workers there working on fixing up the house – planks, saws and other equipment were strewn around. There were no trees or grass in the yard but at least it wasn’t concrete; there were some plants in planters around the house. The house itself seemed structurally sound but was missing important plumbing such as a tap in the kitchen sink and a sink in the bathroom. One or two lights had bulbs but the light was incredibly feeble – we weren’t sure if it was the electricity source or the bulb. The whole place had a nice, friendly unpretentious kind of feel (none of these awful white tiles). The master bedroom was large and light. But when we got to the two other bedrooms and the bathroom, we discovered that although they all had large windows, almost no light came in because the wall of the property was built within two feet of the windows. It was about as dark as a deep basement with a small, high window half covered with snow, if you can imagine. Back outside, we saw that the wall had recently been made higher, thus blocking the light to those windows. The workers thought it would be possible to remove several rows of the wall bricks again to let in some light. However, it was clear that that, along with all the other work that had to be done, would take a lot of negotiation and money. I left this house feeling really disappointed – it felt like it had so much potential. A quiet street, a nice size, a yard with lots of possibility for plants and greenery, and a great location. The price was 500$.

The next day we went with another friend to see two houses in Bandal. Bandal is about three km away from both the office and the church, in different directions. So it would get us slightly closer to church. We would be no further from the office in actual kilometers, but it would take us a lot longer to come in along the congested and narrow 24 novembre boulevard. Bandal is also known to be very noisy; we have some friends who left Bandal for this reason, and another friend who has told us she has to arrange her Skype calls with family around the loud noise of churches, and sleeps with earplugs every night. So we were pretty hesitant about Bandal for these reasons. On the other hand, Bandal is where many MCC workers have lived in the past, and there is a network of Congolese friends that has welcomed and befriended these workers over the years. It’s also a pretty secure neighborhood and relatively safe to walk around at night (perhaps because so many other people are out partying).

5. We were excited about this fifth house largely because of its location. It is literally a stone’s throw away from Debo’s “Artisanat et Développement” showroom, and walking distance from several other families we know. It’s also right next to Mama Colonel, a restaurant well-known for its grilled chicken and plantains. However, when we got there, we were thrown for a loop. This place was a mansion. The livingroom was monstrous, with three awful glass chandeliers suspended from the cathedral ceilings. The flooring was shiny orange tile. The kitchen was OK, but as we paraded through bedroom after bedroom after bedroom (at least five), it was obvious this was out of the question for two MCC workers with no children. The kitchen was on the opposite side of the house from the living room. There were at least two indoor bathrooms and one outdoor bathroom and shower. There were also three fenced-in balcony/porch type areas on different sides of the house. The wall around the courtyard was not yet finished, but the courtyard was relatively spacious (all sandy from construction, no greenery or trees yet). The asking price was 1000$ but a day later, we heard they had agreed to 700$! We couldn’t understand why they were asking so little for such a large new place, but apparently we were the first people who had come to see it.

6. The other house we saw in Bandal was a short drive away from the first, near the nicely treed Inga boulevard. It was on a quiet, wide avenue near a school; no church in sight. There were no trees in the courtyard but there were lots of flowerbeds (empty for now). It was a two-story house with a living/dining/kitchen downstairs, and four bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. I really liked the living room – there were nice small matte tiles on the ground, and it had a homey, cozy, unpretentious feel to it. We weren’t able to see the upstairs since it was still occupied, but the rooms must have been miniscule. The house was on a corner so it got nice breezes (many houses in Bandal are in rows and can be stifling during the hot season). In addition to the house itself, there was a sort of annexe with three rooms that all had separate entrances. Both the house and the rooms were occupied by several different families. We knew that water and electricity would be problematic, this being Bandal. Our friend also told us that getting all these people to move out could be a challenge. But I was really attracted to the place and the neighborhood felt very friendly. The house was tucked away on a little back street, but was very near a market and several little shops, and very close to Kasavubu boulevard. The price: 600$.

7. Finally, we saw one more place in Kintambo. Kintambo seems to be more expensive than Bandal as a rule, presumably because it is closer to downtown. This place was five minutes walk away from church and from Kintambo Magasin – the best of location of all so far. The neighborhood wasn’t nearly as friendly and quiet as number 6. The house is on a crossroads with one road going up to MaCampagne and IPN, and one leading toward Kintambo magasin, so two busy streets go right past our place on either side. However, the house itself is raised up about 10 ft about the road, and features a lovely private courtyard with three tall, beautiful trees! It has a welcoming balcony/porch running along the front of the house. Inside, the house feels very spacious. Unfortunately it has shiny tiles, though not as shiny as some we’ve seen. As you walk in, you see two large areas on either side of the door – dining and living spaces, I guess. They feel less tacky than the cathedral place in Bandal, but more than number 6. The kitchen has fairly solid cabinets and a door leading outside to the yard – great for barbecues or eating outside. The bedrooms are non-descript but fine. The bathroom is functional and better than others we have seen. There are two other apartments right on top of ours but we have sole access to the yard. Power is stable; water is not but we could get a reservoir. This place costs 900$. The landlord seemed the most reasonable of all the ones we had met; he has travelled extensively so is more used to mindele and their ways. A market is close by. The place wouldn’t need much work compared to the other places we have seen – some tweaking of plumbing, installation of a water reservoir, and a coat of paint throughout. The downside for me is that it doesn’t feel like the friendly, modest little MCC-ish home that I was dreaming of. John thinks it could feel like that after a while. He is probably right.

None of these houses meet all our criteria, but some obviously come a lot closer than others. We haven’t made a final decision and will probably go to see a few more houses this week; but in the meantime, it would be fun to hear your votes about which house you would choose, if you had a choice!

August photos

It was great fun to have Mariam live with us for two weeks.

One day we visited Irène to learn to make fumbwa. It was accompanied by fish that I had to gut.

It was Mariam’s turn to make fufu, this time with millet, a grain common in Bandundu.

Unfortunately the fufu turned out a little gravelly because we hadn’t washed the millet properly before grinding it at the local mill.

Fumbwa is a very colorful dish. Ingredients: fumbwa leaves (kind of like shredded green plastic), bright orange palm oil, ground peanuts, tomatoes, and seasoning.

Back at home, Mariam pounding red peppers (pilipili) to accompany our spagghetti and garlic bread.

Last week John and I visited the Kinshasa zoo as a Lingala lesson. This is a “makaku”.

And here is a “makaku mondele”.

The sign says “watch out – no teasing!”, but the gorilla is teasing us for some ice cream.

We also saw leopards, horses, crocodiles, and this evil-looking black python.

Branchés

Aujourd’hui nous venons de rentrer chez nous après trois semaines passées à habiter dans la maison de Tim et Suzanne, les co-représentants du MCC-Congo. Tim revient demain des États-Unis; et ainsi finissent trois semaines qui nous ont marqué de différentes façons.

Pendant presque tout ce temps, nous avons eu la visite d’une amie canadienne, Mariam, qui restait avec nous après avoir fini un projet de mission à court terme en collaboration avec une des Églises mennonites congolaises. Mariam est plein d’énergie et de joie; elle a vraiment égayé notre vie pendant sa visite. Souvent on l’entendait chanter en travaillant à la maison; une fois John et moi l’attendions pour souper et puisqu’il faisait déjà nuit, on s’inquiétait un peu pour son retour en taxi; mais avant trop longtemps on l’entendait chanter en marchant vers la maison et on a pu oublier nos soucis. À cause de son désir de voir et d’apprendre tout ce qu’elle pouvait qui était en lien avec la santé communautaire, Mariam nous a donné l’excuse de faire beaucoup de visites et de rencontres qu’on n’aurait peut-être pas faites autrement, ou qu’on aurait fait sur une période beaucoup plus longue. J’ai fait beaucoup moins de travail au bureau pendant ce mois, et au lieu d’être devant l’ordinateur, j’ai (re-)visité le grand marché, un petit ONG local qui essaie d’encourager les personnes atteintes du VIH/SIDA, une clinique de la communauté des Frères Mennonites à Kinshasa, une clinique gérée par les Baptistes, et un moulin où on a fait moudre le millet que j’avais amené du Bandundu. Avec Mariam comme compagnon, j’ai aussi pu faire des longues marches près du fleuve que je n’aurais pas voulu faire seule. Avec son enthousiasme, nous avons aussi commencé à participer aux jeux hebdomadaires de frisbee à l’école américaine (en tout cas John a participé ; j’ai préféré nager dans la piscine).

Nous avons aussi profité d’être dans la maison plus grande de Tim et Suzanne, et d’être au rez-de-chaussée, pour inviter plus de personnes chez nous. Je pense qu’on a eu presqu’autant de visiteurs qu’on avait eu pendant les cinq mois précédants! En étant plus près du siège de l’ECC (l’Église du Christ au Congo; le bâtiment où se trouve notre bureau) nous avons aussi pu recevoir plus de personnes qui passaient nous saluer. C’est clair que la plupart de nos visiteurs préfèrent ne pas monter cinq étages, et que cette maison est mieux placée pour des visites imprévues.

Tout cela a fait trois semaines pleines d’activités et d’intéractions. À la fin, voici quelques réflexions qui essaient d’expliquer la place des relations interpersonnelles dans la vie kinoise.

1. Pour ne pas se sentir trop seule à Kinshasa, il faut prendre beaucoup d’initiative (bien plus qu’à Montréal, à mon avis) pour sortir et voir tout le monde possible. Éventuellement, on commencera à faire partie de plusieurs réseaux. Cela implique beaucoup de longues voyages inconfortables en taxi, quelques rencontres qu’on pense inutiles, bref, beaucoup de travail pour faire quelques liens – mais ces liens valent l’effort.
2. C’est mieux d’habiter ensemble avec d’autres personnes que d’habiter seul. Surtout à Kinshasa je suis convaincue que je préfère ne pas habiter seule (c’est-à-dire seule avec John!). Cependant, je ne suis pas sûre que j’ai un autre choix pour l’instant…
3. Il ne faut pas trop éviter l’inconfort. C’est-à-dire, les voyages en taxi, les tracasseries, les rencontres pénibles avec la police ou avec des passants. C’est en étant entassé dans un taxibus avec 27 autres passagers, en écoutant les autres se plaindre du manque de place ou critiquer le chauffeur d’avoir mis trop de bancs afin de faire de l’argent plus facilement, et en voyant que personne ne fixe l’attention sur toi, que tu peux le plus sentir que tu fais partie de la vie, quoique chaotique, de Kinshasa. C’est en marchant à pied pendant 35 minutes parce que le transport était trop difficile à trouver que tu peux faire une rencontre avec un pousse-pousseur qui prend le temps de t’avertir avant que tu mettes le pied dans une flaque d’eau où il y a du courant électrique. En voiture, les pousse-pousseurs (qui transportent des charges incroyables en poussant un genre de chariot à deux roues) représentent un obstacle, puisqu’ils marchent trop lentement sur la rue en même temps que les voitures essaient de passer.
4. En tant que coordinateurs de Menno-Santé, même lorsque nous sommes à Kinshasa, nous devons continuer à chercher de nouvelles rencontres, même si nous avons beaucoup de travail de bureau à faire. Ici, c’est essentiel d’être lié à un réseau de personnes; les gens ici parlent avec mépris que ceux qui « se cachent au bureau ». Il ne faut pas essayer d’éviter le contact avec d’autres pour privilégier le « travail ». Le fait d’habiter à cinq minutes à pied de notre bureau nous a permis de passer plus de temps au bureau (au lieu de travailler à la maison); au bureau il y a plus de visiteurs et de distractions, mais nous sommes aussi plus branchés à la vie autour de nous.
5. L’emplacement est important. Même si beaucoup de personnes se déplacent en taxi, ça vaut quand même la peine d’être le plus accessible possible; ça aide aussi d’être plus proche de plusieurs lignes de taxi.

Toutes ces réflexions nous aident pendant que nous cherchons un nouveau logement. Ceux qui suivent ce blog savent que nous devions décider si nous voulions rester dans cet appartement de façon permanente. Nous avons décidé de quitter ici et de trouver un logement dans un quartier plus populaire qui nous permettra d’être plus proches de l’église que nous fréquentons sans être trop loin du bureau. Nous espérons nous sentir plus liés à nos amis congolais que nous ne pouvons l’être en habitant au centre-ville, dans le quartier des riches. Nous avons alors annulé notre contrat de bail pour le 1er octobre (beaucoup plus facile à faire qu’à Montréal!). Entretemps, nous profitons de l’ascenseur qui est maintenant en marche pour la première fois depuis le mois de mars, et de notre vue impressionnante sur les travaux qui se passent sur le Boulevard.

Kinshasa vs. Bandundu – quelques comparaisons

Être de retour à Kinshasa veut dire :

1. Manger la bouffe qu’on a préparé nous-mêmes. Même une omelette avec du pain grillé est délicieux après avoir mangé chez des autres pendant si longtemps. Au Bandundu, nous avons goûté des spécialités telles que les larves noirs salés et séchés qu’on achète en route comme du fast food. C’est croquant comme des chips mais mon système digestif ne savait pas qu’est-ce qui lui est arrivé. Les anguilles et les petits poissons de rivière (« maboke ») étaient aussi nouveaux. Notre diète de tous les jours consistait en fufu, pondu (feuilles de manioc pilées), viande (poulet, chèvre, porc, boeuf), riz, et autres légumes. Mais le fufu et le pondu étaient le plus souvent au ménu. Je suis vraiment prête à prendre un petit break du fufu et de préparer moi-même mes légumes avec beaucoup moins d’huile. Aujourd’hui j’ai visité un petit marché et je suis revenue avec une grande courge (je vais essayer une tarte de citrouille), des concombres, de la coriandre fraîche, des tomates, des onions, du gingembre pour soigner la gorge de John qui est enrhûmé, et des haricots verts. Quelle satisfaction!

2. Respirer plus difficilement à cause de toute la pollution dans l’air. Il y a aussi moins de soleil à cause de cela.

3. Retrouver des moments de solitude et d’intimité. Pendant le voyage, j’ai bien aimé le fait d’avoir toujours quelqu’un avec qui passer les soirées, avec qui discuter. On a eu beaucoup de bonnes discussions la nuit autour d’une lampe à pétrole à Mukedi, et dans l’ancien salon de missionnaires à Kajiji.  J’avais presque oublié qu’est-ce que c’était d’avoir quelques minutes pour moi seul! Je me sens même un peu désorientée devant le choix de comment passer mon temps, car je n’ai pas eu à faire ce choix seule tout au long du voyage. Ici je peux planifier ma journée et savoir que je pourrai probablement accomplir tout ce que j’ai planifié – j’en ai perdu l’habitude.

4. Passer nos soirées plus souvent seuls, ou avoir à planifier d’avance toute sortie.

5. Ne plus se sentir comme un phénomène bizarre qui attire l’attention de tous. Pendant le voyage en jeep, il était difficile même d’arrêter pour quelques minutes près d’un village sans que des dizaines de personnes nous entourent pour nous regarder à bouche ouverte. Tout ce qu’on faisait était fascinant. À Kikwit, il était parfois même désagréable de marcher dans les rues car il y avait tellement de personnes qui nous suivaient ou qui criaient après nous. Ce matin, ici à Kinshasa, je suis allée au bureau en taxi, et pas plus de trois personnes m’ont fait des remarques du genre « bonjour chérie, comment vas-tu? ». Je me sentais presque invisible! Une personne m’a même demandé des indications pour une école biblique, au lieu de supposer que je suis une touriste ignorante. Oui, on est toujours la cible des enfants de la rue et de vendeurs, mais tout cela semble maintenant supportable.

6. Payer 2500 au lieu de 250 francs pour un ananas.

We’re back (English version)

(This is the English translation of “De retour”, published on July 29. Thanks to Lesley Fast for the translation. See the French version for the photos mentioned here).

Our trip planned for June 29 to July 15 was extended for 10 days, so we’ve only just returned after almost a month. Thank you to all who have faithfully continued visiting our blog in spite of our long silence. During our trip we revisited the hospitals at Kajiji and Mukedi, and held meetings with the two coordinating doctors. Here are some photos [see previous post], followed by a fairly detailed diary of the trip.

June 29 – Travel from Kinshasa to Kikwit on Kin-Avia airline. Dr. Benza, who lives in Kikwit, welcomes us and we spend the afternoon running errands downtown. We expect to leave for Kajiji (500 km away) the next day. We pay a deposit on the jeep that the doctor has rented, and we purchase groceries to take with us: rice, instant coffee, powdered milk, “Vache qui rit” cheese, soap. Whatever we don’t use ourselves will be left as gifts for those who prepare meals for us. We also spend some time with the doctor discussing our work schedule for when we get to the hospital at Kajiji.

June 30 – Today is the DRC national holiday. We leave at 06:15 hoping to arrive at Kahemba (390 km) before dark. The day has several surprises for us. First, the roads are very sandy and the Jeep (Opel) is not built high enough off the ground. After the midday break (fufu and sardines at the house of someone we know) we get stuck several times in the deep sand. It is very dusty because of it being dry season and because of the fires in the fields (people usually burn the vegetation in the dry season). Several times we have to drive very near a fire (we try not to think of the fact that we have five 20-litre containers of gasoline with us in the vehicle!). One time, stopping for a few minutes, a fire starts under the vehicle (the engine, which overheats in the hot sand, is in contact with dry grass underneath). We panic! We jump out of the vehicle, take out the containers of gasoline, the driver and the doctor throw themselves on the ground to put out the fire. Fortunately the fire is quickly put out. Meanwhile, the engine continues to give us problems. Right after getting past the sandiest section of road, it breaks down completely. The driver-mechanic checks things out – it’s the fuel pump. He immediately begins to take out the fuel tank in order to replace the pump. The doctor, John and I take essential supplies for spending the night and leave on foot to look for a village that is supposed to be 2 or 3 kilometers away. After 20 minutes, it is beginning to get dark, but happily we arrive at the village of Mbenga, where we ask the villagers for help. A large group of young people leave right away to go and help with the car. We wait for several hours, tired and very dirty. Eventually the jeep arrives, being pushed. The driver was not able to complete the repair job. We eat (fufu, eel) and arrange for a room in the little “hotel” (bamboo mat on a pallet, sand floor). The driver and the doctor sleep in the jeep. Despite everything, we sleep quite well. The next morning the driver succeeds in fixing the problem by doing a fancy electrical bypass; people offer us hot water for our coffee; I get to know two women, one of whom (Augustine) suffers from infertility like me. We offer to give her a ride so she can be examined at the hospital in Kahemba. The village of Mbenga is very poor – does not even have a health centre. It is cold in the mornings in dry season, and there are lots of children wearing hardly any clothing and shivering. Except for when we sleep, we are never alone – there are always at least 40 children who look at us with great curiosity. Despite the circumstances, we feel a bit sad to leave because we were shown warm hospitality. We plan to stop there on our return trip to drop off Mama Augustine. By afternoon, we have arrived at Kahemba (80 km). There, we find a nice guest house with water to wash, a mirror (I see that I have become black from all the dust) and a bed with real sheets. We are all very tired, so we take the whole day to rest. In the evening, we work again with the doctor, preparing for the visit to Kajiji.

July 3-7 – From Friday to Tuesday morning, we are at the hospital working with the whole team. Since our last visit, some of the reports were sent late and others were not done correctly. Also, in some cases we suggest new report forms. There is much work to do to get all the missing data and to put them in the correct format. Dr. Benza, John and I work together at times and at other times separately with small groups. To give you an idea of the kind of work that was done: we had to 1) redo the monthly inventory for June in an improved format, adding several articles which had not been counted the first month; 2) calculate the average monthly consumption for all the products (this calculation is necessary in order to be able to place a reasonable order); 3) prepare the quarterly medication order using the freshly calculated CMM; 4) find data on the performance of the hospital, such as the percentage of beds occupied (varies between 18 and 35 percent of the 32 beds depending on the month); 5) redo a number of financial reports in a new format;  6) reconstruct the global situation of the pharmacy and get an overview of the traceability of previous orders. In general, we were satisfied with the results, but it was hard work for everyone.

July 8-9 – Return to Kahemba, and then Kikwit. We arrive at Kikwit at about 6 pm, very tired, but unfortunately the room that we had reserved has been given to someone else. The alternative room is dirty, moldy, dark and damp, next to a very noisy generator, and beside a bar. We are about to agree to take the room for one night with the idea of then looking for something better, but Dr. Benza suggests that we look at one more establishment; happily they have something available: a large, clean room, with private toilet and shower, and with a meeting room where we can hold our meetings. What a relief.

July 10-13 – Meetings with the two coordinating doctors at Kikwit (Dr. Gaspard had come from Nyanga for the meetings). The meetings go very well. We have the impression that the level of mutual trust has greatly increased since our first meeting in April. Even when we have to broach sensitive subjects, we succeed in finding solutions that everyone can accept. I again feel very privileged to have such a good relationship with these colleagues.

July 14 – Dr. Gaspard leaves to go back home. We will see him again at Mukedi (the hospital that he is supervising). Meanwhile, we stay for several days at Kikwit to finalize and print some documents, and to work with Dr. Benza on the quarterly order for medicines. The doctor gets malaria during this time. We have a somewhat more relaxed schedule.

July 19 – We leave for Mukedi, where we will do same work we did at Kajiji. Dr. Gaspard will arrive by motorcycle on the 21st. The trip to Mukedi seems so easy after the one to Kajiji – only five hours and we’re already there. We spend a very peaceful week-end, sitting around and reading some novels that we fortunately brought with us. We stay in a guesthouse with livingroom, bedroom and bathroom. All the water has to be carried on someone’s head from at least a 20 minute walk away, so we use the outdoor toilet as much as possible. We have all our meals with the Ngangula family. The father of the family is the managing doctor of the hospital. The family atmosphere does us good. It is a family that often talks in French, and so we feel more included in the conversations (Lingala, which we are still learning, is less useful here where the main language spoken is Kikongo).

July 20-23 – With the management and pharmacy staff of the hospital (about 8 people in all), we spend four intense days updating all the reports. There is a good team spirit and we have many interesting discussions.

July 24 – We leave early in the morning for Kikwit. I feel very sad to leave the Ngangula family and Dr. Gaspard! At Kikwit, we rest, and have one last meal with Dr. Benza in the evening.

July 25 – Return to Kinshasa. I could write several paragraphs about the Kikwit airport experience – like the last time, I am frustrated with all the useless formalities we have to go through, and how incredibly slow it is. Kinshasa seems so ordered, calm and neat after Kikwit! We are very happy to come back to our apartment. We feel satisfied that the trip has been a great success.