My last day of work in the Kampala office was Friday March 14. However, my flight to Kigali was not until March 31st. 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 31st, 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.
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