Too tired

I keep thinking of ideas for blog entries, and then when it gets to the end of the day, I am so tired I can barely think straight, and all I want to do is go to bed. Today it is the same story. I just want to let you know I’m here, and contemplating writing about the (in)efficiency of our work days, the indications of success for a well-functioning hospital in Congo, our new “lightweight” furniture, today’s car accident (don’t worry, it was just a fender-bender), our taxi adventures, and our latest interactions with street kids living near our apartment. It will have to wait until just getting through every day doesn’t take up all our energy. Goodnight. –Anicka

Tokokende na Jericho (English version)

Tokokende na Jericho (translated from French by L. Fast)

March 8th, 2009

I am sitting in the living room, Sunday morning at 09:00, with the thermometer at 27 degrees. The water in the pipes have just started running again after a pause of a few hours. Suzanne (our supervisor) is coming to fetch us in an hour to go to a CEFMC churche (Mennonite Brethren) – this will be the second time we attend this church. J. Denny Weaver, an American theologian, and his wife Mary are here for a month and it will be Denny who will present a message on non-violent atonement. His name is well known in the Mennonite circles in which I have moved – so I feel privileged to hear him here in Congo!

I want to share two things that struck me yesterday. First, a bit of background. During the last two years, MCC-Congo has taken a break by stopping all its programs and by forming a discussion committee to reflect on the future of MCC in Congo. The project that we are going to coordinate is one of the results of this period of reflection. Yesterday, there was an “appreciation service and reception” to officially close the study period, to thank the members of the committee whose work was now completed, and to welcome the new MCC workers (John and me, and Denny and Mary). There was a service of about 2 hours with songs, message, prayers and a choir.

The choir consisted of seven men. We knew the director because it was he who had taught us some Lingala words and had shown us how to catch a taxi during our first week here. He has a voice that carries very well. Forget the mike! The choir was amazing – their choice of songs, their rhythm, their harmony were intoxicating. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such musical talent as in the two weeks since our arrival. Their last song was in Lingala, and when I heard the beginning, I was close to tears – it was a song that I had heard all my childhood on a cassette which was produced by a group called “Youth Discovery Team.” This team of young North Americans and Zairians (as it was then known) worked together in the 1990s, in Zaire, to produce this album which has had an influence on many people in the Mennonite world, among whom my family. The song begins with the words “Tokokende na Jericho” and suddenly I realized that with the Lingala lessons I had had till now I was able to understand “We are going to Jericho”. All my life this song has been part of me, even before I knew that it was in Lingala, even before the idea of going to work in Congo was born. I have heard it sung by my dad in the shower, I have laughed at the part where the leader makes those funny sounds – and now, listening to it in this service, I feel very deeply that I am in the right place, at the right time.

Christine Kalume, one of the members of the committee and a Mennonite pastor (that’s right – the Mennonite Brethren churches of Congo beat their Canadian counterparts to the draw by accepting the ordination of women before the Canadian MBs did!) presented a short meditation based on Matthew 25, the passage where Jesus teaches that those who have done something good for one of the least of his brothers, have done it for him. The example she gave was of a woman who wants to refuse to let her neighbour draw water from her tap, but is reminded by her husband that perhaps this neighbour is Jesus. Here in Kinshasa the words of Jesus, which speak of providing for the immediate needs of others – giving water to those who are thirsty, clothing those who are naked, feeding those who are hungry – gain their full meaning. We have already seen a woman without any clothing walking the street; our Lingala teacher tells us that many residents of Kinshasa eat only one meal a day; many do not have access to a proper water supply. Almost daily the young boys who live in our street and hang around in our area approach me and beg me repeatedly, “Mama, I’m hungry, give me some money for food, just 500 francs.” Sometimes I give a drink I have with me, a package of dry plantains; one time I gave 500 FC to a boy after he helped me to cross the boulevard. Sometimes I studiously ignore them, telling myself that if I start giving, there will soon by 20 around me every time I go outside. But the big difference with North America is that here it is often children under ten years of age, and they never have enough to eat or enough clean water to drink. Do these children represent Jesus for me? — Anicka

On s’habitue (English version)

“Settling in / acclimatising…” translated from French by L. Fast

March 3, 2009

After 10 days in Kinshasa I see that my eyes have already adjusted very much to all the things I can see around me. At first I saw the disorder and the dirt, people who wanted to steal my hand-bag, aggressive hawkers, clogged streets, chaotic traffic, and dysfunctional businesses. Now I see young men in green uniforms who are cleaning the street, an old man who is working all day in the sun cleaning the gutter along our street, police officers expertly directing traffic, street venders who love discussing prices, little businesses set up along the streets that perhaps look like nothing but are amazingly functioning.

There are things that break my heart. The man who cleans the gutter is old enough to be my grandfather, and he is working very hard, under a cruel sun. The children who live on the street are persistent in asking us for money, but sometimes I can see those who are too tired or too hungry sitting with an expression of such discouragement. Downtown there are big shops with an astonishing choice of imported products – but the supermarket is almost empty and there are security guards outside.

It is especially the contrasts that strike me most. Someone who does not have running water or electricity in the house but who is impeccably dressed to the point where I feel hopelessly out of style. The Grand Hôtel of Kinshasa where you pay US $30 for breakfast, and the omelet from the vender for 700 Congolese francs/FC (about $1). A little boy to whom I refuse to give any money but who nevertheless gives me a free smile.

Sometimes I have the impression that there are two parallel economies in Kinshasa – the economy of dollars and the economy of FC. A 500 FC note (65 cents) is almost always acceptable for a policeman who stops your car, or enough to pay someone who watches your car. With 500 FC you can buy a loaf of bread with peanut butter, a Coke, some bananas. At the same time, two Congolese this week, in different contexts, spoke about an amount of 100 US dollars as a “little nothing.” In the supermarket, some items are priced in francs, while others are priced in dollars.

I am continually confronted with the contrast between our life and that of most of the people around us. We live in an apartment that has running water, electricity, internet, a fridge and even air-conditioning. We have several computers, ample money for buying a variety of healthy foods, drinking water, medical care, and the protection of our embassy in case of political unrest. In MCC’s budget, $36,000 has been set apart for our support (rent, medical expenses, food, furniture, communication…) and besides that we each get $74 per month to spend as we please (going out to eat, haircuts, swimming, clothing, investing in our RRSP, etc.). I force myself to put down these figures because I am almost ashamed of them. It is true that there are those who get paid more than we, who live on the river front, who have several vehicles and who eat in more expensive restaurants. Yes, we use public transportation to get to work and we buy less expensive food – but the contrast between us and the great majority remains so very obvious – it’s impossible to diminish it very much by living simply. The questions that I struggle with are the following: how can I form mutual friendships with people who have so much less than we? Are goodwill and love enough to cross these barriers? Does the fact that we hesitate to give to those who are so clearly in need mean that we are too attached to our money, or is it necessary in order to encourage people to take charge of their own life? I’ll stop there because I don’t really have any clear answers at this point. – Anicka