Celebrating 1 Year in Africa

So…September 13th officially marked one year living in Africa. And what a year it has been. When I arrived in Entebbe last year, I thought I would be spending 3 years in Kampala doing some sort of finance job and spending as much time as I could with my friends in Bufukhula. A year later and I sometimes don’t recognize my own life. Congo? Who would have thought?

So in no particular order, here is a list of highlights and lowlights from my first year in Africa:

• Landing in the under construction Entebbe airport with 5 large suitcases and no clue who was picking me up
• Looking at 12 or more houses then finding the PERFECT house
• Learning the words and melody to several traditional hymns
• Finding and volunteering with a fantastic church in Kampala
• Discovering that there really wasn’t that much for me to do with FH Uganda
• Learning that there was much I could do with FH Congo
• Leaving Kampala – hardest thing I did all year
• Elaine’s visit to Kampala and the trip to visit Janet in Kitgum
• Having stomach bacteria problems on the 8 hour drive to Kitgum!
• Spending time in Bufukhula
• Aunt Leslee…enough said!
• Soft serve ice cream and the bookstore at Garden City Mall in Kampala
• Café Bourbon in Kigali
• Spending time with my friends from FH training in Kigali
• Angela, Martha, Martin, Mary and Maria
• Buddy…cute puppy….terror of a dog
• The FIRE
• Seeing lions, giraffes, hippos and elephants in Murchison Falls
• Friday night card night
• Flambayed ice cream at the Orchid in Bukavu
• Renee’s coffee shop
• Being too stressed at work….having to take a mental health day
• Visiting the Buhozi feeding centre
• Jeff and his amazing brochettes and banana bread
• Satellite TV
• Skype…again enough said!
• Bad culture stress…French is hard
• Seeing Gorilla’s in DRC
  

OK...I could probably go on, but this should give you a good idea. It is hard to believe it has been one year; it has gone by very fast. And then at times, it is hard to believe I have two more to go; the time isn’t going by fast enough. These past few weeks I have had mixed emotions about continuing in Africa. I can recognize that this is work stress and culture stress talking. So this one year mark has been a good time to reflect, assess and pray for God’s continued support for my “mission” in Africa.

The one year mark is also a good time to have a party with friends. So, on September 13th I threw a little party and invited both my ex-pat and Congolese friends. We had a wonderful time dancing and laughing and lip-synching to Celine Dion (she is very popular in Africa). Have a look and meet some of my Bukavu friends.




My Friend Kim who works for the International Rescue Committee

My friend Ric and I dancing

Renee our resident Bukavu expert

Liz and I lip-synching to Celine Dion!

The Gang

Buhozi Feeding Centre

Last week I took a seriously needed mental health day and joined the Directors wife Katie at a feeding centre for malnourished children in the village of Buhozi. The village is located about 45 minutes outside of Bukavu. Currently, Katie and Kostas’ home church in Washington, DC have been sponsoring the centre and Katie provides administration and “pastoral” support. The centre feeds about 60 children in the area; all are under the growth targets for their age and each receives a meal of beans, rice and cabbage once a day. While the three mama’s are preparing the daily meal, the children gather to sing and dance.

On this day, Katie and I were accompanied by Keith and Nathan and Robyn. Keith and Nathan just joined FH Congo, Keith for 1 year as a Program Support Officer and Nathan on a 6 month internship. Robyn is a friend of Katie’s who used to live and work in Bukavu and has previously visited the feeding centre. We were also accompanied by Papa Israel who is an FH driver and assists Katie in translating as well as Papa Jean, a public health nurse who sees to the children’s health. (Picture on left: Keith, Israel & Nathan)

What’s interesting about this village is not only do many of the villagers and children not speak French but they also do not speak Swahili; Moshi is the local dialect. This makes it even harder to communicate with the children. I could converse in French and maybe even a few words in Swahili…but Moshi…no such luck! However, dancing, singing, laughing and a comfy lap are universal and I had no problem enjoying my time with the children.

And of course there is the requisite baby holding! Baby holding, that is, without diapers - wet baby holding. I was in heaven.

We also went on a home visit to see Katie’s friend Regine. She is a single mother of 5. This doesn’t seem too bad in African terms, but that 5 comprise 2 sets of twins and all the children are under the age of 5. Regine’s husband left her after the second set of twins was born…and he took the metal roof from the house with him. Regine has no income and no family to assist her. Katie has been providing her with monthly financial assistance and the younger 3 children receive a meal at the feeding centre. All of the children are malnourished and this, of course, affects their normal developmental stages; the 2+ year old twins just started walking in the past month. The oldest, who I believe is around 4 looks more like a 3 year old.

It is always difficult to see poverty such as this. The village is scattered in between fields and fields of banana trees. Produced from the banana’s…banana beer. In talking with Robyn and Papa Jean, the village leaders have been approached about removing some of the banana fields and planting other food crops to help reduce malnutrition. However, they refuse as the beer is more important. Papa Jean was even approached by an angry elderly women who declared that the banana beer was fine for children…they filled up and slept through the night. (Recounted to me by Papa Jean) These are some of the conditions of poverty that FH and other organizations are fighting in Congo and in other places around the globe.

The BASKET

So the other day Joel picked me up at the house to bring me to the office (after a quick stop at the shop for lunch). As we reached the main road, I saw an older man with a large basket on his head. It was a big basket for this guy to be walking around with on his head. I commented to Joel about it as we passed. You see, since the fire, I have no place for dirty clothes and have been thinking about getting a basket of some sort.

But we kept going and headed to the shop. A short while later, basket man was standing outside the door of the shop. They do that, street vendors, stand outside the shop hoping they can make a sale. Well, I asked my Congolese friend Rick to see how much the basket was. He came back with the price of $10, so I borrowed from Joel and bought the basket. Well, I knew it was a big basket…but didn’t know it was a HUGE basket. I can sit in the basket; in fact I did! Not only will it fit my dirty clothes, but Joel’s and Liz’s and all the sheets from three beds and still have room left over. And it’s heavy! Any ideas on how to bring this back home?!?!

And To Think That I Saw It on Patrice Lumumba Avenue…

I see a lot of crazy things when I drive down the main street in Bukavu. I thought I had seen strange and fascinating things on the streets in Kampala, but Bukavu takes the cake. It is almost impossible to describe; you truly do need to see it to believe it. And I don’t think I can put it together in elegant prose, so you will just have to settle for point form:

• Pot holes big enough to loose a car in…OK not that big but pretty close! It is incredible the number and size of the pot holes. And this is on a paved rode. It is fun to watch and to drive as cars swerve around the holes into oncoming traffic. What is not fun is being the passenger or God forbid be sitting in the back of the Landruiser while going over said potholes. Most times you will have a car coming at you in your “lane” and they will honk/flash their lights at you like you are in their way.

• And speaking of lanes…there are no lanes. Cars go wherever they want. You stick to your side of the road, but the middle is first come first serve. I spend a lot of time driving down the middle…one to avoid the holes and two, because the taxi’s go super slow along the side honking to pick up customers.

• And speaking of taxi’s honking…it is constant…all day honking. The taxis here are just regular guys with a car. Sometimes they have a taxi sign on top but mostly they don’t. They drive like maniacs; you can’t be too close behind them as they will suddenly pull of the road right in front of you. Or worse, they pull out in front of you with no warning. Turn signals…what’s a turn signal.

• And speaking of driving like a maniac…everyone drives like a maniac. Even the NGO drivers; even me sometimes.! There really aren’t any rules and everyone is impatient. While there are not a lot of cars on the road, it seems like a lot as everyone drives so badly. The roads are so bad that in most places you can’t go fast. But in those places where there is un-potholed pavement…the faster you can go the better. (Me too!)

• Another thing you see on the road…two wheeled carts carrying wood or rebar being pushed/pulled down the road by a group of young men. It is an odd site and a job I don’t envy. Bukavu is rather hilly and it always pains me to see them struggling to get the cart up the hill. It is a delicate balance as the two wheels are in the middle of the cart. But, it is also funny to see them going down hill with someone riding the load and the rest running to keep up with the cart and keep it balanced.

• Fridays….how I hate Fridays on Patrice Lumumba Avenue…and Saturdays too. These seem to be the days that people get married. Many people! And the custom is to drive your wedding party down the road with the cars all decorated and maintaining a constant rhythmic honking. And the best part…they drive really slow so everyone can join in on the parade.

• It seems like life in Africa takes place on the side of the road. At least the Africa I have been too. In Bukavu it takes on a new meaning. On the side of the main road you can buy everything from running shoes to purses, from cell phone accessories to pirated movies, from thermos’ to kids toys and even Hawaiian lays. There is hardly anything you can’t buy along the side of the road. And this isn’t in a shop. People set up right on the dirt track that passes for the sidewalk or in front of an unoccupied building.

• It is always the noises that strike me as I drive to work; the constant sound of thousands of people going about their lives. But the one thing that always stands out to me is the boys who walk with metal buckets filled with soda bottles. The bottles are lined up around the bucket and they run the bottle opener around the bottles. It makes a musical sound. But combined with the noise of horns honking, police whistles blowing and general city noise it combines to make an often times ear splitting cacophony.

There is so much more to see along driving down Patrice Lumumba Avenue. Everyday there is something new and often I think of something I want to write about but forget by the time I get to where I am going. I think I need a bigger purse to keep a small notebook inside so I can jot it down as I see it. I guess a visit to the vendor with the purses I see on the side of the road is in order!

Bloggers note: And To Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street was Dr. Seuss’ first published children’s story

Rest & Relaxation: Lions and Tigers and Bears...oh my!

OK…there were no tigers or bears, but there were lions. Two of them!

Most people come to the lodge either with a tour group or with their own vehicle. I of course came with neither, so I booked my game ride with the lodge. A lodge vehicle, driver and guide. And I was all by myself, which was pretty cool. My guide/driver was Eric and he was fantastic. There was a hole in the roof of the landcruiser and I stood with my head sticking out the whole time. There were tons of giraffe, which are my favorite animal. They are so gentle and majestic. I learned that the older the giraffe gets the darker his spots and more pronounced the small horns on his head are. I also say lots and lots of Oribe, Jackson Hartebeest and Uganda Kob (the national animal of Uganda). It was in a field of Oribe, that we saw the male lion. We had stopped and Eric jumped out of the vehicle and climbed on the roof and said there was a lion. He could tell by the behaviour of the Oribe that the predator was there. He jumped back into the vehicle and drove off the road into the field with the Oribe and sure enough there was the lion. OH MY GOODNESS. A wild African male lion! Eric said it is very rare to see a male lion. We drove right beside it and it walked right on by. Incredible.

We left and went down the road a bit and saw one of the other tour trucks up ahead on a different path. Again there was a field with Oribe. The other driver called us over and sure enough, there was a lioness approaching the Oribe. She was injured in the back left hind leg and was limping. She could only walk for a bit then stop and lie down. I felt so bad for here. Eric said they would report it and that sometimes a vet comes from Kampala to check on animals the rangers are able to capture. Unfortunately, it doesn’t bode well for the lioness as she can’t hunt. If she can get to her pride, maybe she can eat their kills. Otherwise….

We kept going and saw a group of three elephants. The one kept looking straight at me. Another was pulling leaves from a tree; the whole tree shook with the force of it. We also saw a pack of elephants down near a watering hole. Two of the males were play fighting until the big mama elephant broke it up. The last thing we went looking for was the elusive spotted leopard. They are hard to find. Eric says some weeks they don’t even find one. Sure enough, we didn’t find one. But since I had seen lions, elephants, giraffe, buffalo, water buck, osibe, Ugandan kob and warthogs I felt I could let go of seeing the leopard.

The landscape is so varied in the park. There is forest, savannah grassland and savannah woodland. Everywhere you look the land looks a little different. And it is extraordinary when you see the Nile majestically winding its way through the land. At one point we were at the Nile delta where several rivers meet together at the end of lake Albert and transition from the Albert Nile to the Victoria Nile.

I am glad I took my dad’s advice and went on the game drive. This land is beautiful. Even without the animals I could drive through the park just to see the beauty and variety of the land.

Rest & Relaxation: The Fire

Started out like yesterday. I got up around 8am and went to breakfast. After I sat at the pool for a while reading my book. Came back to my room and was finishing up with my music files when there was a knock on my door. Turns out there was a call for a Kristee, but the last name was different. I went back to my computer and a few minutes later there was another knock. The call was for me. So I went down to the front desk and waited. A lady came out and told me the call was from Food for the Hungry and that they would call back in 10 minutes. I asked if it was FH Uganda or FH Congo and they told me it was FH Uganda, So I came back to my room and was going to call Golda at the FH office when my phone started ringing. I noticed I had two missed calls and was wondering what was so important someone was trying very hard to reach me….

It was Renee from Bukavu. There was a fire in my room and most everything was lost. Just my room which was good, although good is a relative term to me. They think the fire started in the light above my bed. Jeff, our house guy extraordinary, discovered the fire when he came to work in the morning. He hurt his hand trying to put the fire out and that hurts me more than the loss of the things. But, it still stings that my family photo’s were destroyed, the notes and letters from supporters, the printer CFHI provided me with, the extra toiletries I lugged all the way from Canada, the arts and crafts I collected in Uganda, my baseball gloves, books and bibles and $2500 US. I feel like I have been violated. Kind of like you feel when you are robbed, yet there isn’t anyone to blame, just a fire.

So, that sort of put a damper on my holiday. I cried my way through lunch which was a little embarrassing. I need to talk when I am going through stuff like this so it was the staff that got to hear all about it. One of the tables overheard and a guy came out and told me how sorry he was. I burst into tears again. My attitude, truly is however, that all that was lost were things. They can all be replaced. If the fire did start above my bed and I had been sleeping in the bed, I could have been hurt. And while that is truly how I feel, it really sucks thinking about the things that made me feel at home being destroyed, my clothes damaged by smoke and flame. But, life moves on and so will I.

I went on my regularly scheduled Nile boat ride and saw hippos, elephants, crocodiles and Murchison Falls. Coincidentally, the guy that spoke to me at lunch was on the boat with his family and friend. They were extremely nice people; he’s Ugandan and is married to an American women and they have two beautiful girls. We had a nice time chatting on the boat, but always the fire was on my mind.

After the boat ride I came back to my room and called my parents who were their normal practical selves. I love them! I was considering not going on the game drive in the morning and instead heading back to Kampala and home, but Dad convinced me to stay and enjoy my holiday before heading back and dealing with the fire’s aftermath. It was good advice…as always.

I was debating whether or not to go to dinner. I hardly ate any lunch and was hungry, but the thought of eating by myself again and thinking about the fire was not appealing to me. Then another knock on the door. I thought it was the guy who comes in and pulls the mosquito net around and sprays the room, but it was a man from reception letting me know that the doctor, Hugo, requested that I join them for dinner. Thank you Jesus…who knew what I needed at that time. So I went to dinner and had a lovely time. It was nice to be able to chat with people and even be able to joke about the fire.

And I booked my game drive!

Rest & Relaxation: Nothing To Do

Going to sleep at 9pm means walking up early. But I didn’t want to get up early, so I forced myself to doze for as long as I could. Breakfast is from 6:30am – 9:30am and I set the alarm for 8am. I was awake before that so lay in bed and read till the alarm went off and for a bit after that. I headed up to the dining room for breakfast and was the only one there for a bit. I think my table is number 4, as it is set for 1 person and that is where the hostess took me last night. So I headed back there and sat down. The staff are already calling me by name; it is so nice to have the staff walk up, call me by name and ask how my night is; it makes me feel not so alone. On my way back from breakfast, I looked up, and standing right below my balcony was a very large, obviously hungry hippo munching on the grass in front of the lodge. A hippo! I had to shake my head. I am staying in a place, living in a country where a hippo eats the grass under your balcony. I love AFRICA!

It is hard to know what to do with yourself when you have nothing to do. After breakfast I sat by the pool and read my book. Then I came up to my room and watched an episode of Reaper (my brother works in catering on the set in Vancouver). Then it was time for lunch. After a wonderful lunch of salad, beef stroganoff with mashed potatoes and fruit salad I thought I would take my camera and go for a walk. As it is a game park, I stuck to the main road down to the ferry launch. Ran into a couple of baboons on the side of the road, but that was it. It was stinking hot so I decided to lay down with the ceiling fan blowing and watch the last episode of Reaper. Then I finished a book. Then I showered. Then I organized my music files. Can you see the trend here? Nothing to do and I love it. I did manage to organize a Nile boat ride for tomorrow and a game drive for Thursday morning. So not a completely useless day!

Rest & Relaxation: Getting to Murchison Falls

It is easy to get from Bukavu to Kampala. The flights from Kamembe to Kigali and Kigali to Entebbe are scheduled and predictable (the plane will always be late from Kamembe to Kigali!). On this trip, those two flights were the only travel arrangements I was sure of. Getting to my final destination, Murchison Falls, was going to be a crap shoot. And if there is one thing I don’t like while traveling, it is not having a plan; not knowing how I am going to get from point A to point B. Well, I’ll give away the ending right now: I am sitting at the Paraa Lodge at Murchison Falls on my verandah overlooking the Nile River. It is beautiful; majestic in its calm and orderly procession across the amazing African land. I have been on and in the river as it rolls and drops and speeds through Uganda, but here it is slow and relaxed. But that’s getting ahead…I’m sure you are wondering how I managed to get here in the first place.

I spent weeks trying to find a way here. I knew I wanted to spend my first R&R relaxing in Uganda and since I had never been to the West of Uganda I thought that Murchison would be as good a place as any. I didn’t want to go with a tour group as I didn’t want to be on anyone’s schedule but mine. It’s harder that way, but I think the payoff is so much better. So I booked, well actually my friend Julia booked for me a room at the Paraa Lodge. It is the up market accommodations at Murchison, but since this is my first holiday in 2 ½ years I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it. So, now I had a reservation for Monday-Thursday night, but still had no idea how I was going to get there. I searched the internet and didn’t find any good answers. Then I remembered that I had the Brandt Guide to Uganda. DUH! There I was able to find that if you are trying to get to Murchison all by yourself, you can take a bus to Masindi and from there hire a taxi to take you to the park. I learned from my housemate Joel that I had to take a ferry to get to the Paraa Lodge.

So I had a starting point. I got back online and found that there was a Uganda Postal Bus that left at 8:00am every morning from the Main Post Office going to Masindi. I had my favorite Kampala taxi driver, Fred, take me to the Main Post office at 7am Monday morning. Already there was a pretty good line up of people waiting. I met a group of Muzungu’s from the UK, Australia and I think the US that were going to Tororo (near Mbale) with African Inland Missions. The bus finally arrived and it was a mad dash to get on board and get a good seat. You don’t put your luggage underneath (they charge extra for that) so I found a spot in the back corner and tucked one back pack on the floor at my foot, put the other across my lap and the camera bag on top of that. Not comfortable, but it gave me a little space as no one could get too close. What proceeded was the longest, most uncomfortable bus ride of my life. For six hours I couldn’t move. We traveled on some stretches of road that could rival the Congo. I was sitting at the back of the bus and at times I went air born. All this on 3 hours of sleep (I had stayed up late catching up with friends the night before). So I slept most of the way to Masindi, the only way to forget about the numbness in my butt and the pain in my back.

The one thing that always stands out for me about Uganda is how friendly the people are. All the staff working for FH are amazing and you could think it is just them that give me that impression. But the truth is, Ugandans are a friendly lot. They want to know all about you, where you come from, why you are here. They always tell me they pray that I will stay longer, visit their part of the country. There openness is always so off putting and so very welcoming. On this trip, I was blessed my several helpful Ugandans who made it possible for me to get to the Lodge as happy and in one piece as I did.

The Postal bus was a mistake. It stops all over the place. Mostly in towns to drop off/pick up mail, but also to pick up passengers from the side of the road. And they don’t really announce where they are. I had a generally idea that Masindi should be around 3 hours outside of Kampala (without stopping!), so I felt comfortable napping most of the way. When we finally came to Masindi, the bus stopped on the side of the road and most of the people started getting out. With my two pack backs, camera bag, sweat shirt and bottle of water, I was neither quick nor graceful trying to get off the bus. As I made it from the back to the front of the bus, the conductor came back on and asked me if I was going to the post office. I told him I needed to rent a special hire to take me into Murchison Park so he told me to sit back down and they would drop me up ahead at a tourist location. It turned out to be The Traveller’s Corner, a place I had read about in my research for the trip. Thank you Uganda Postal Service worker!

I got off the bus and headed into the restaurant and was greeted by the server. I told her I needed to find a special hire to take me to the park. She got on her phone, called a driver and told me he was just on his way back from Paraa and would be there in 30 minutes to get me. Now that is why you should always tip your waitress! Thank you Traveller’s Corner waitress. I was also able to have my first meal of the day, a Spanish omelet and a coke. The driver Sam arrived and we quickly got on the road. My tour book had said around 100,000 UGX for the special hire to the park, and when Sam said 150,000 I was pretty happy. Fuel has gone up so much in the last year, that I was appreciative it wasn’t any higher. We also took along with us a Murchison Park guide who was on his way back to work. His name was Emmanuel and he was a great resource as I asked him questions about the park.

Sam was/is a wonderful resource. I have his number to call for a ride out of the park and he said he would get me on a bus or Matatu on Friday to get me back into Kampala in order to catch my plane back to Kigali. He also said he would come to the park and take me for a game ride if I can’t hook into a tour here at the lodge. Along the way to the ferry launch, we saw a few animals. There were tons of baboons. We saw them mostly in the forest part of the park. That’s were the trees and vines were thick and the insect noises reached my through the sound of the car speeding along the dirt road. Later, when we came to the more savannah areas, we stopped and watched some warhog and saw a Uganda Kob. I saw another Uganda Kob at a watering hole and a few more warthog standing in the middle of the road. When we reached the ferry launch, the next boat wasn’t for an hour and a half. Sam spoke with a man he knew, Angelo, who is the captain for a boat that takes tourists up the Nile to the bottom of Murchison Falls. Sam entrusted me to Angelo and we sat and talked for a bit. He is from Arua, but has been working the Nile here at Murchison for three years. Angelo gave me the number for the Lodge so I could let them know I was here and arranged for me to take one of the Paraa boats across the river so I didn’t have to wait or pay for the ferry. Thank you Angelo!

On the way across the river I watched a herd of water buffalo and a hippopotamus make there way into the river for a late afternoon dip. The boat driver radioed the lodge and a van and driver met me at the launch to take me to the lodge. Thank you boat driver and Isaac the van driver! As I was standing waiting for Isaac, I looked and not 10 feet away was a very large primate. I don’t think it was baboon, but I am not sure what type of primate it was. He was just sitting there, no fear as I pulled out my camera and got a little closer.

The Lodge is beautiful. It has been around for a long time; weathering war and royal visits. I was greeted at the front door with a cool towel and a fresh juice. The wonderful lady at the front desk gave me a room with a view of the river and it is spectacular. The room is simple and understated, with a quality that can only be called colonial safari. There are no TV’s and no phones in the room. It is quiet, with the sounds of animals in the night close enough to hear but not see. After a quick clean up and rest I headed up to the dining hall for a beautiful dinner by lamplight. It is weird being on my own; wonderful but lonely. I have no agenda, no plans. It’s just me, my wits a couple of books and my laptop. Exhaustion overtook me early and I think I was asleep by 9:00pm.

Day 1 was one for the books!

Gorillas in the Mist

OK...there were gorillas, but no mist. I took the opportunity on Sunday to join my friend James (SIS from UK/FH) and his father John to go see the gorillas at the Par National de Kahuzi-Biega an hour and a half outside Bukavu. Gorilla watching is something I have always wanted to do. You can see them in Uganda, Rwanda or Congo but it is cheaper in Congo and from what I have been told, much better.

Our day started at 7:20 when we picked up the FH driver, Fidel to drive us to the park. Funny thing, Fidel was dressed in his church clothes: black suit, white dress shirt, tie and dress shoes. The drive to the park was fun; the road not so fun. The biggest thing about Congo is it's lack of roads. The road we were on took us along the lake, past the Chinese MONUC base, past the nunnery where the nuns make/sell really good ice cream (I'm told). We branched off before the airport, but the road also leads to the Bukavu airport. Along the way we say fishing boats, a rolled over bus and countless other incongruous sites.

We arrived at the park at 9:00 am and met with the park official. Unfortunately, as it is dry season, the gorillas have ventured quite far away and we had to wait for the guides to find the family before we could head out. Also waiting was a large group of Pakistani UN soldiers. They are funny. A couple of them wanted photos with James, his dad and I. What is that all about! After an hour and a half of waiting, we were off. Accompanying us was a group of four French nationals who lived in Burundi. The park is home to three family groups of gorillas. The group we were going to see had one male silverback, 17 females, 2 babies and one juvenille. The head guide gave us a brief introduction and instructions then we were off. The lead guide went ahead with a machete to clear the path. It was unbelievable. I kept thinking, when is Indiana Jones going to appear. We truly were hiking through the jungle. At times, the underbrush we were working on was so thick you couldn't see the ground. The machete guide had to completely clear the path at times. It was so cool. What was not cool was stepping into the water in the marsh and having to climb over a watery mud hole. Nor was it cool that we had to walk for close to an hour.

But....... ...it was so worth it! We started to come across piles of gorilla dung so we new we were getting close. Then...GORILLAS! It was awesome. They were not afraid of us or the machete wielding guide who cleared the bush around them so we could get a good view. The silver back was huge, bigger than anything I could imagine. And scary looking. Some of the young ones came up quite close. One of the gorillas was in a tree above our head. We watched for sometime, then the silver back got up, yawned, and ran off. It was amazing and scary at the same time. The rest of the family followed their leader and we followed as well. The viewing wasn't as good, so we headed back to the vehicles.

The problem with walking downhill for an hour? Having to walk back uphill. My legs were so tired; I could hardly lift them to walk over the logs and debris. As we walked back I listened. There was the sound of my heart pounding from the exercise and the sounds of the forest: birds and bugs. I was so excited to reach the vehicles at the top of the hill, but sad the experience was over. This is definitely something I want to do again. So if you have ever wanted to see gorillas...come and visit and I'll take you! (see the album on the left)

Congolese Wedding

I went to my first Congolese wedding this weekend. Our FH driver Israel's daughter was getting married. It was nothing like a Canadian wedding. In Congo, the church has not been given the right to perform a legal wedding. Therefore, there is a civil ceremony before the church ceremony. And before the civil ceremony, there is another get together. The first get together was last weekend and the civil ceremony was on Thursday. The church wedding was on Saturday morning at 9am.

The muzungu attendees were myself, Joel, Michael and his wife Holly and Liz (All FH Staff) Since most African (Uganda/Congo) events do not start on time, we decided to leave around 9 am to get to the wedding around 9:30. However, we were late leaving and didn't arrive at where we parked the car till around 9:45. We were met by one of Israel's friends and walked to the church....straight up a very long and steep hill. Have I mentioned I was wearing 2 inch high heels! It was not a fun walk. Then, when we reached the church, when I was red faced and sweaty, we discovered we wer late. And of course, as muzungus, we were seated right at the very front. YUCK!

The wedding itself was interesting. It was in Swahili and French which means I hardly understood a thing unless it was translated by Joel or Liz. There were two choirs that sang and a skit. That was the first hour. Then there was the 40 minute sermon. Then the vows and exchange of rings. There were speaches by the father and mother of the bride and groom. Funny thing...the groom was around 22 years old; his father was 100 years old! The one thing I can't get past, and really taints my view of Congolese weddings, is the tradition that the bride and groom cannot smile. Never! Not in the photo for the invitation, not at the pre-gathering, civil ceremony, wedding or reception. If you smile it shows you are not serious about the marriage. And the bride has turn her face down towards the floor. It was awful; the wedding party looked like they are at a funeral while the rest of the guests are whooping it up. In fact, the bride looked terrified; I have never seen hands shake like that.

I think I am pretty open to the different cultures and customs I have encountered since arriving in Africa. I try really hard not to judge but to accept the differences. This one, the bride and groom not smiling, is just too much. I never felt comfortable watching the wedding party and found the seriousness of the bride and the groom too discordant from the joyful celebration going on around them.

Before the vows After the vows

My Weekly Treat

I learned from my friend Holly that there is a flower guy named Jean Paul. He makes his livelihood carrying a metal bucket full of beautiful flowers…on his head. And for $5 dollars (USD) I get a gorgeous bouquet of flowers every Saturday. There are a variety of flowers in the bucket (I don’t know all their names). The first time he came I told him that the Calla Lilly’s were my favorite. Now when he comes, I give him the vase, he empties the old ones, I put water in the vase and he creates a masterpiece, always with Calla Lilly's. See for yourself.

The Menagerie

I think I mentioned it in a previous post, but I thought I would tell you a bit about the animal gang living at my house.

First there is Ruth. She is an absolutely wonderful guard dog. (Please don’t ask me what breed she is, I know absolutely nothing about dogs - I am a cat person.) I am told that Ruth was initially the guard dog at the office, but that she wasn’t getting fed and was too thin and almost died. Joel, brought her home and she is now thriving. Joel has been giving her a piece of bread every morning to fatten her up. I have continued the trend while Joel is away. She loves me!

Then there is the newest addition to the gang. His name is Buddy and he’s my favorite. Joel brought Buddy home from Rwanda. For the first week Buddy would spend the day outside with Ruth but slept in the house, in my bed with me. It was fun, but after a week of being woken up every few hours, it was decided that Buddy was ready to sleep outside with Ruth at night. He is the cutest puppy. But he bites and jumps a lot. If anyone has any dog training tips, I could certainly use them.

The third resident of our menagerie is Hommie. Hommie is Joel’s Africa grey parrot. He has a specially built cage on one of the side decks of the house. Actually the entire deck has been caged in to make a big parrot home. African grey’s are known for being talking parrots, and boy does he talk. (Funny thing…Joel’s not sure if Hommie is a boy or a girl – I hear it is hard to tell with birds) Hommie whistles, says his name, some other things I can’t distinguish. But best of all, he mimics the yelping cries of Buddy. The first time I heard it I thought it was Buddy and I raced outside to see if he was OK. And the second and the third. Then I clued in that it was Hommie. It is absolutely uncanny.

So that’s the gang. I wanted a cat, but I am pretty sure that the dogs would kill it. And if the dogs didn’t it, then Joel would if it ever got near the bird.

A Day in the Life

I have been is Bukavu for three weeks now. Settling in has been easy, probably because I have done it once before. I have the room and bathroom on the main floor and have quickly made it my own. It’s funny. Here I was looking forward to having a housemate, to not living on my own. But in the three weeks that I have been here, Joel has only been in Bukavu for the equivalent of a week. First he had to go to Kinshasa to work on getting the necessary papers to get 4 new vehicles out of the government impound. Now, he is away for a month. Three weeks of vacation and a week bringing another vehicle to Bukavu from Nairobi. So, again I am living all on my own.

But, it’s not so bad. The best thing is that we have Jeff. He is the most amazing cook and launderer. It is so nice to be able to come home after a long day of working (most of the time from 8am to 5:30-6:00pm) to have dinner already prepared. He works during the day, ensuring there is always fresh fruit salad for breakfast and dinner for when we get home. My favorite, though, is Saturday. Jeff makes breakfast (pancakes and French toast so far) and then prepares meals for Saturday and Sunday. Saturday’s dinner is always pizza. I love this man. I joked with my dad that it was going to be hard to come home after this pampering. Since I hate to cook, I was either going to have to come home and take cooking lessons, marry a chef or stay in Africa the rest of my life. Dad said,” Bring Jeff home!” It is hard, sometimes, the feeling that you get when you have someone who cooks and cleans for you. But, I try to remember, that my purpose here is to work as effectively as I can in the short amount of time I am here. It is often a full time job just living in Africa. Jeff makes it possible to focus on our jobs and gives him a good paying job, something that is hard to come by in Bukavu.

So what does life look like for me in Bukavu? I get up just after 6am to get ready for work. By 7:15 I am getting my fruit salad and toast. Some mornings I have the a car and driver and some mornings I get picked up by Kostas, the County Director or by Michael, the Program Manager. This is while Joel is away. Joel usually drives us to and from work. Side not, I got my drivers license and will be taking some lessons driving the FH trucks. They are big, heavy suckers and getting in and out of the driveways at my house and Kostas’ are tricky. I can’t officially drive the FH vehicles until Joel gets back and approves me, but I will get some practicing done in the meantime.

Devotions start at 8am. Because FH/DRC is primarily funded by USAID, the Christian part of devotions is only a very small part. First we sing a song or two, either in French of Swahili, then a small bible reading, then announcements. After devotions, I head to my office to check my emails. Then the day starts. First, let me tell you about the office and my office in particular. The FH office used to be a five story apartment building. So the office is divided into suites. Finance is in suite #1, and my office used to be the kitchen. Yep. It has yellow tiles all around the room and pipes sticking out of the wall. Plus it has a little balcony. But since it faces a brick wall and on the other side of the brick wall are very noisy school classrooms, I don’t go out there very often.

My job keeps me busy most days; it is evolving every day. So far I have re-allocated funds for three grants, a process that involves digging through a dinosaur DOS based financial systems and binder upon binder of receipts trying to figure out where funds expenses have been misallocated. It has been frustrating and rewarding all at the same time. Nothing like getting your feet wet all at once as you figure out the names of regions, sub regions and individual fields. It’s not as straight forward and separate as things were in Kampala. But I love it. There hasn’t been a dull moment yet, and it is exciting to be a part of such a large organization undertaking large scale relief work. The biggest challenge of the day is the French. I have a tutor from 9:30-10:30 Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. But I am frustrated at how slow my progress is. I don’t understand much of what is being said in devotions and often feel isolated because I can’t socialize with the staff. That is not to say that most don’t speak at least a little English. I have been able to get by with a mixture of French, English and sign language (not formal sign language – more the kind of gesturing you do when people don’t know what you are talking about). I am a little worried that the staff might take my lack of socializing with them the wrong way. So if you are reading this, maybe you could say a quick prayer asking God to help me speak in tongue – French specifically!

Lunch is at 1pm. I bring leftovers from home and Vincent, the office cook, re-heats it for me. I eat in my office and take this time to browse the internet, catch up on world news. Then it is back to the grind until 5:00. By then it is 8am in Vancouver and I usually spend a bit of time Skyping with Elaine at CFHI and my parents, then it is off for home. I love my time with the drivers. This is where I practice my awful French and learn about their lives outside of work. Bahati, my favorite, is a pastor and has 10 or 11 kids. His church was just built with assistance from an American church. And I learned last night that is 18 year old daughter is very sick, is in hospital and may need an operation. Let’s just say he doesn’t make enough money to pay for that. The other driver is Nuru (which means light). He was a moto (motorcycle taxi) driver but was hit by an FH driver and had a serious leg/foot injury. He hadn’t worked for a long time, and has a family of 4 to feed. Joel felt very bad for him, so he hired him as a driver. He has a very funny accent when he speaks English. Both Nuru and Bahati are so incredibly patient with me. I adore them both, although Bahati is my favorite (in the whole office!!!!)

When I get home, I turn on the oven to re-heat the dinner that Jeff has prepared. I am trying to exercise on the elliptical before dinner, but my desire and my actions are not lining up right now. Dinner is always fantastic and always includes a salad. Yeah salad! Then I spend some time reading or watching TV. Then bed and up at 6am to start it all again.

To break the routine, I have women’s bible study every other Tuesday and Friday’s are games night with the whole FH ex-pat crew plus Kim who works with International Rescue Committee (IRC). The weekends are pretty lazy affairs; it is hard to get motivated to do anything but read and watch TV. Luckily everyone else is motivated, so most weekends I have a visitor or two. Katie and Kostas’ son Daniel likes to come visit Hommie as does Michael and Holly’s daughter Natalie. But I am gradually building a good circle of friends. Renee is fantastic and has lived here her whole life. Through her I am making Congolese friends. My biggest prayer is that my French will improve drastically and I will be able to make more friends.

You might be asking yourself, what about Church? Well, that’s a fun story. The only English service in the entire city is at the Anglican Church down the road. It is within walking distance of the house. Problem is, the English service is at 7:30am. Ouch! There are about 10-15 Congolese who attend and the pastor is Congolese. The non-Congolese congregation consists of the FH ex-pat staff and Kim from IRC. That’s it. As it is an Anglican church, the service is more formal and structured than I am used to. But, the choir is fantastic and the church is large and bright. The best part is that Church is done by 9 am and I have the whole day ahead…to do absolutely nothing!

The down side of living in Bukavu right now is definitely the French and Swahili. Because I don’t understand a lot of what is being said at any given time, I don’t feel comfortable being out on my own. The area that all the ex-pats live in is called Muhumba and it is also the location of MONUC, the UN Peacekeeping force. There headquarters is just down the street from my house. The area is very safe, although there are a lot of street kids and they have been getting a bit more active in Muhumba. It’s not that I don’t feel safe. I do. But because my French is not so great, if anything did happen I wouldn’t understand what was going on, nor could I talk my way out of a difficult situation. So, for now, I don’t really go anywhere but to work or to Michael or Kostas’ house. But I am trying to get up the nerve to get out and walk around on my own one of these weekends. There’s something else you can add to you prayer list.

So…so far so good. It is always exciting and challenging, and there is so much to learn everyday about life in Bukavu. It isn’t an easy place to live, for ex-pats or locals. War ravaged the area four years ago and it has taken its toll both on the city and the people. But there is hope. And with hope and God, miracles can happen.

What to Do When there is Everything and Nothing to Do

My last day of work in the Kampala office was Friday March 14. However, my flight to Kigali was not until March 31^st. The reason for this time delay was to give me ample time to sell the contents of my house (at least everything that I wasn’t taking with me). But they say God is in the details and he sure has been in all the details from start to finish with regards to my move to Bukavu. When I told my landlady I was moving, she asked if I was taking my furniture. When I told her that I was selling everything she said she wanted to buy it. Praise God! It took a while, but we settled on an amount that worked for both of us. With this out of the way, I had two weeks to get ready for my move. The biggest challenge was completing 40 hours of one-on-one French re-fresher classes. I had a fantastic teacher, Saloman, who was so encouraging. If I had had him as my high school French teacher I might not have needed his services now! (For those who are interested, I took 4 hours of French a day for 10 days – the last class was on the 31^st, the day I left)

The other big challenge I had was finding appropriate work clothes. In Kampala, although the female national staff tend to wear dresses and skirts, the ex-pats adopt a more informal style of dress. But in Bukavu, the expectation is for more traditional formal office attire. The DILEMMA: I brought a lot of clothes with me. But there were two problems. First, most were informal clothes; a lot of t-shirt, tank tops and casual pants. Second, I purchased most of my clothes in spring of 2007 then put them away in a suitcase. But then I went ahead and gained too much weight over the summer, and now many of the clothes that would have been appropriate no longer fit. The PLAN: go shopping for dress pants, skirts and formal tops at Oweno market in town. Sounds simple enough, right? Not so much! Oweno is a large African market. Think rows and rows of stalls, makeshift shops made of wood, tarps and metal sheeting; exposed to the elements through the gaps in the “roofs.” You can buy anything you can dream of at Oweno: second hand clothes and shoes from the US, Canada and Europe, cheap Chinese knockoffs, food, home wares. You name it, they have it.

Rainy season started in March, and we had a doosey of a storm the night before my shopping adventure. I wore flip flops, my usual foot attire. My shopping partner, Juliet (Ugandan staff member who works with the Go-Ed program), warned me that I should change shoes. I didn’t listen! We took a special hire into town, through major rush hour traffic. When we pulled up in front of Oweno, I was struck first by the smell (of garbage) then by the shear size of the market. It was nothing like I had expected. I had been warned that the market was crazy. Most Mazungu’s get grabbed and dragged into stalls by their owners. With Juliet, this wasn’t a problem. She walked so darn fast I had to race past everyone with my head down making sure I missed the mud puddles and didn’t slip and fall flat on my butt. Juliet knew the market very well. I barely saw a quarter of the market as she took me straight to the clothes section. We passed many a stall until Juliet stopped and one in particular. I stood there, pointing at things I liked and wanted to try on, while several “boys” went looking for other items that matched the descriptions of what I wanted to buy. It was a little disconcerting getting changed behind a blanket being held up by random guy as the shop owners across the way and people passing by watched. But, I was game so I tried on a bunch of skirts and pants. They kept trying to bring me small pants and tops, bless their hearts! We managed to put together a few outfits, then the part I dislike intensely: the bargaining. Juliet would have got me a fantastic price if only I had kept my mouth shut. But alas, I didn’t, and only got a good price. (Juliet informed me via text message, not to say another word!)

From there we went on to the shoe section. It’s crazy! There were large white sacks full of shoes from the West, and men and women sitting around cleaning them. I saw used Nike running shoes that had been cleaned so well they looked brand new. Thanks to my Aunt Candis, I now have a shoe problem, so I was in heaven. I found two pairs of shoes which I liked, and Juliet bargained real hard for them. We actually walked away for a while and finally the guy came down to a price that was reasonable for both Juliet and I. After the shoes we headed out of the market and across the street. The whole area around the market has clothing and fabric stores. I was looking for a nice purse, but found a really great dress and leggings instead. After a quick stop for a soda and fries, Juliet and I headed towards the taxi park.

The taxi park…what can I say about it. It is a mass of humanity and vans. Taxis in Uganda are called Matatus; 14 seater vans in varying degrees of mechanical and aesthetic condition. I have been trying to avoid riding in them for several reasons, the most important being that they drive like maniacs and my friend Stella was injured in a Matatu accident. But this was a day for firsts, so Juliet and I hoped into the taxi going to Muyenga. The thing about the taxi park and the taxi system in general is that it looks like a big ‘ol mess, but really is quite organized and very inexpensive.

So, shopping…check. French classes…check. Furniture sold…check. The next challenge was packing. Joel, the logistics director with FH/DRC was going to be driving through Kampala on his way from Nairobi to Bukavu with two 8 ton trucks. The problem was, he didn’t know when they would be released and ready to go. It could be sometime during the two weeks or sometime after I had already left for Bukavu. This caused a few problems. First…when to pack? I didn’t want to pack too early and be living in an empty house, but I had a lot to pack and needed to be ready for the trucks as it would only take a day for them to arrive once they left Nairobi. Second…if Joel didn’t come during the two weeks, where was I going to store my stuff? I arranged with the Logistics boys in Kampala to store my stuff at the office, so that was one problem solved. I decided to start packing in my last week; starting with the room I didn’t use and the storage in the hallway. I used the other spare room as the packing room. I timed it perfectly – no God timed it perfectly – and I was all packed by the end of my last weekend and Joel arrived Sunday night. Did I mention that I was flying out the next day?

Yes, Joel and his other driver Jules arrived late Sunday night. This meant the packing of the truck would occur Monday morning; the same Monday that I was flying to Kigali. Thankfully I didn’t fly out till 9:50pm. We got the truck all packed, Joel picked up last minute items at the office and Game (the South African version of Canadian Tire) then he was on his way. As for me, I finished up at the office saying my goodbyes, went into town to pay the bills for radios for FH/DRC that I had picked up for Joel earlier in the week, then went to my last 4 hours of French class. Finished that and headed back to the office where my friend Finn was picking me up to take me to the airport. It was a busy day for my last day in Kampala, but it was typically me.

Now the fun begins….

Sometimes I am like my mother and sometimes I am like my father. When it comes to being at the airport early, I am just like my mother. My flight was at 9:50. so I got to the airport around 7:30. My tickets had been arranged by FH/DRC and I had the email with the confirmation number. Good thing I was early, as after having taken my suitcase, laptop bag and camera bag through security, I was told at the counter that my confirmation had been cancelled as no ticket was issued and that the flight was full. You can imagine how flustered I was at that moment. I had no more Ugandan shillings and only American dollars. I knew if worse came to worse I could call someone to get me, take a taxi back to Kampala or spend the night in Entebbe. But I had no money in the bank to withdraw Shillings and the exchange at the airport is awful so I wasn’t looking forward to any of these options. I wanted on the plane! They check-in people told me to go upstairs to the Rwandair office. So out I went back through security with my suitcase, laptop bag and camera bag only to find that the elevator does not work. It is only one long flight of stairs, but a little hard with my 22 kilo suitcase and other bags. A very nice airport man carried my suitcase upstairs which was most appreciated. I got to the office flustered, worried and a little ticked off only to have to wait while two Rwandair employees chatted and laughed. This did not help my disposition. Finally one of the ladies told me to come inside and have a seat. It was around this time that I felt the tears coming. Then I remembered the nine months of fundraising and six months of living in Uganda and remembered that this was not a big deal. If I didn’t get on the flight, big deal! There were other options and I could handle it.

The nice lady booked me a standby ticket. Luckily I had the US cash to pay for the ticket. I then lugged my suitcase, laptop bag and camera bag down the long flight of stairs, through security again and back to the ticket counter. We got everything all sorted, then I had to sit down and wait and see if I would get on the flight. I prayed a bit during this time. Mostly I just sat back, and waited to see where the cards were going to fall this time. I have felt that God wanted me to come to Bukavu; everything had been lining up since I made the decision to move. And this night was no different. I made it on the plane. I was so relieved.

However, I might have made it to Kigali, but my suitcase remained behind in Entebbe. Actually, 15 suitcases where left behind in Entebbe. There were a lot of very angry people at the airport that night. Most were yelling at the poor lady who had to take our information. I preferred to be nice to her and even prayed for her before I went to bed. My friends Seng and Jen were waiting for me and I couldn’t get a message to them telling them that I was there, but waiting to give my lost luggage info. Thankfully they waited having figured out some baggage had been lost. So with no luggage in hand other than my camera and laptop bag, we headed to Seng and Jen’s. Unfortunately, they had a guest stay longer than expected so I had to sleep on the couch. Not a problem, but this meant that there was no mosquito net. And boy were there mosquito’s that night. So there I was sleeping on a couch with very large cushions, in the clothes I had been wearing for over 12 hours, trying to cover my head from the mosquito’s buzzing all around my head. I ended up with two bites on my forehead. But bless Jen. I slept in, and when I got up, saw that Jen had left me a large basket of toiletries and her makeup. I was able to shower and do my face, even though I only had my stinky clothes from the day before to put back on. Luckily, my bags came in on the 9:50 flight that night and I was able to feel human again the next day. I also got to sleep in a real bed that night.

I spent two days at the Kigali office. I did a little training with Seng who is the Regional Finance Manager, but mostly I caught up on email and visited with friends. I went to my favorite place in East Africa, Café Bourbon, and had the best latte this side of Starbucks. And I had Indian with my friends Jen & Christie who I also met in training in Peru. It was a nice few days of recharging after leaving Kampala and before arriving in Bukavu.

The last leg of the journey passed uneventfully and I was soon at the airport in Kamembe. I had planned on studying my French on the plane, but instead had a delightful young man as my seat mate who spoke only French. So instead I practiced my French with an 8 year old Congolese boy. Renee from the office was at the airport to greet me, which made me extremely relieved as I didn’t want to have to cross the crazy border without her assistance. I have to say, however, that my border crossing experience was much easier this time. I think it helped that we had an FH vehicle this time and that the border guards remembered me from last time.

So now I am in the Congo, settling in to my new house and making it my home. I share the house with Joel, the head of logistics, his parrot Hommie, Ruth the guard dog and Buddy the puppy, the newest member of our menagerie. I miss Kampala, my friends, how comfortable I felt in the city. But I am excited about the possibilities: the job, the friends, and the country. Congo has been the source of exploitation, war and misery since it first attracted the attention of King Leopold of Belgium in the late 1800’s. The last 10 years have seen over 5.4 million Congolese killed through war and the effects of war; it is the worst humanitarian crisis on the continent of Africa. And yet, have you heard anything about the Congo? Northern Uganda…yes. Darfur…yes. But nothing of the death and destruction that has been wrought in Eastern Congo for years. I hope that I will be able to bring you stories of hope and resilience during my 2 ½ years, to bring to life the past, present and future of this magnificent country.