Okay, one more post.
Yesterday I racked up another memorable embarrassing moment. We made an excursion to a textile store where one can buy the ubiquitous patterned and colorful African cloth.
That morning I had bucket-washed my clothes, so with a limited wardrobe, I had decided to sport the “kapilana” I had purchased in Mozambique. I proudly wrapped the zany fabric around my lower half, tucking and twisting as my housemate in the U.S. had explained to me (she taught school in Congo in the 70’s). I sent myself to breakfast with a pat on the back for so naturally assimilating to my surroundings already on Day 2.
Well, as these wrap skirts go, they need adjusting as the day and activities unfold (pardon the pun) so by the time we reached the fabric store, I may not have presented in, well, exactly tip-top shape. But hey- give me a chance- I’m a Muzungu fresh off the plane.
In the almost empty fabric showroom, I noticed that our driver, a burly Congolese male, summon Angela, our Colombian friend who was also fluent in French to come over to the front desk where he was waiting for us…and I went back to browsing. Suddenly the sound of my own name split my reverie. It was Angela coming my way, bearing algun mensaje para mi.
Welcome to the Congo, Hannah. Angela informed me that the attendants at the front desk were all worried that my “pania” (the name they give the wrap skirt in DRC) was going to fall off as I walked around the store! I had obviously wrapped it wrongly. So they told our driver in whatever language, probably Lingala or Chokwe, who told Angela in French, who told me in Spanish that I need to fix my pania!
I was so embarrassed, but ironically, my pania felt just fine and I knew it wasn’t going to fall down. Besides, I’d thought of that and worn a second layer. What was I to do anyway, in a big open showroom of fabrics and attendants standing around watching?!
In the end, I tried to discreetly adjust my skirt and they sold me the cloth I’d picked out, probably hoping that I’d have some help next time I dressed myself and left the house.
Back at the guesthouse we had some big laughs about it. A young Congolese woman gave me a thorough Pania lesson 101 all in French. I quickly saw that in every single principle of the wrapping process, I had done it the opposite way. I could see now how I must have looked like such a goon!
Hurrah for Experiential Education.
(Here’s to you, Corinna)
Lingala
I think that "Lingala" should be defined as: A variety or plethura of languages. Doesn't it sound like it?
Actually, it is one of four national languages in DR Congo besides the official language of French. In the past week, I have put to use the little I know of English, Portuguese, Spanish, Sign Language, and French. This is certainly not to brag, considering that most of the people I meet these days (besides Americans) speak that many languages fluently with or without any formal education. Our driver in Kenya spoke not 5 but 10. He also informed me that Safari means "journey" (see previous post).
I enjoy the atmosphere of multiple languages. It seems to open up the expanse and possibilities and foibles of communication. It's fun and connects all kinds of people. We made a friend here at the Guesthouse in Kinshasa who is bilingual in Fench and Spanish. Perfect! My brain got an outlet for the Spanish that keeps clogging my head, we had an interpreter and she had an English teacher. Between four of us, we were doing three-way-interpreting-teamwork for our errands and visit to the market.
As you fellow bloggers know, there are many more 'posts' that could be written, many of which are lying on the stack of "drafts" in my head. But for now, I want to be present here where I am, which is really a short time. Trying to absorb it all and transpose the stories into words I'll save perhaps for later.
So for tonight, I'll post the update that I am safely in Kinshasa, DR Congo, in good company, and contentedly so. In 2 days, another teammate and I will fly by small plane to Kajiji which is a long-established mission station in a rural community in southeastern Congo, near the border with Angola. A nearby town you could find on a map is "Kahemba".
We will join others at the guesthouse there at the station where there is a hospital, a school and a church which were started by the MB (Mennonite Brethren) missionaries back in the 1930's. We will make time to get to know families there and work with colleagues in the hospital. I will be collecting some data at the nursing school nearby and we hope to tag along on some public health outings (by motorcycle- woohoo!) to nearby communities.
*Note for anyone concerned re: safety, even though the reports of DRC's history that make it out to the broader world have been brutal and staggering, many communities have actually not been ravaged by that violence and Kajiji is one of those. This is a very large country.
That's all I know for now.
In Kajiji, there are no cars, no internet, no phone (Ah! what blessed quiet...) so I'll see you on the other side.
Salut!
Actually, it is one of four national languages in DR Congo besides the official language of French. In the past week, I have put to use the little I know of English, Portuguese, Spanish, Sign Language, and French. This is certainly not to brag, considering that most of the people I meet these days (besides Americans) speak that many languages fluently with or without any formal education. Our driver in Kenya spoke not 5 but 10. He also informed me that Safari means "journey" (see previous post).
I enjoy the atmosphere of multiple languages. It seems to open up the expanse and possibilities and foibles of communication. It's fun and connects all kinds of people. We made a friend here at the Guesthouse in Kinshasa who is bilingual in Fench and Spanish. Perfect! My brain got an outlet for the Spanish that keeps clogging my head, we had an interpreter and she had an English teacher. Between four of us, we were doing three-way-interpreting-teamwork for our errands and visit to the market.
As you fellow bloggers know, there are many more 'posts' that could be written, many of which are lying on the stack of "drafts" in my head. But for now, I want to be present here where I am, which is really a short time. Trying to absorb it all and transpose the stories into words I'll save perhaps for later.
So for tonight, I'll post the update that I am safely in Kinshasa, DR Congo, in good company, and contentedly so. In 2 days, another teammate and I will fly by small plane to Kajiji which is a long-established mission station in a rural community in southeastern Congo, near the border with Angola. A nearby town you could find on a map is "Kahemba".
We will join others at the guesthouse there at the station where there is a hospital, a school and a church which were started by the MB (Mennonite Brethren) missionaries back in the 1930's. We will make time to get to know families there and work with colleagues in the hospital. I will be collecting some data at the nursing school nearby and we hope to tag along on some public health outings (by motorcycle- woohoo!) to nearby communities.
*Note for anyone concerned re: safety, even though the reports of DRC's history that make it out to the broader world have been brutal and staggering, many communities have actually not been ravaged by that violence and Kajiji is one of those. This is a very large country.
That's all I know for now.
In Kajiji, there are no cars, no internet, no phone (Ah! what blessed quiet...) so I'll see you on the other side.
Salut!
Safari
Safari, I've deduced, means "destination" in Swahili. I figured that out on the 8 hour flight from London to Nairobi on Kenyan airways. The screen kept flashing how long we had to our "safari" and tracing it on the map. They alternated between English and Swahili, so I took it as a little language lesson. That sort of thing can keep me entertained for entirely too long (8 hours to be exact).
We've had some great safari's in the past week. June 25th was Mozambique's independence day so the MCCer's had a day off...and the five of us stumbled into a pile of fun (see picture). Well, actually, that's elephant poop which is as big as it looks and sometimes bigger.
The mountain we wanted to climb was closed so we ended up driving around a vast wilderness in the National Park looking for lions, crocodiles, elephants, anteloupe, warthogs, and flocks of exotic birds, to name a few. Alas and alack, the lions and elephants eluded us, but we tracked their evidence. *Editor's note re: the photo: the human foot pictured is 10 inches long.
A community we visisted where the MCCer's are working, fed us lunch and let us camp there for the night. Here is Jenny and I before our lunch of sadza and chicken, where Hannah bravely ate flabs of chicken skin with very tastey sauce.
The woman pictured below is Maria, a young energetic community leader. With her baby on her back, she taught the morning preschool activities, cooked and served us lunch, participated in the community savings group initiation, showed up at the communitygarden planting, and visited us around the fire that evening. Impressive. She's one of two wives of the community leader.
That night we were treated to live music of a marimba made with gourds for resonators and dancing. It was such fun.
Tastes of...
friendship: It's been such a treat to be with Sara in a place and with people that have become Home to her. To bounce along rugged sandy roads, knowing when to pick up pedestrians heading to the same town, where to buy tangerines and if the price was fair for the bag of charcoal, how to interact with the house guard and how to follow the mass at church...and which side of the road to
drive on. (In the picture below we're avoiding a deep pothole- we normally drive on the L side).
insomnia: Sara and I went camping on the beach by the Indian Ocean and I spent the entire night wide awake with a full moon beaming on palm trees (see picture). I've never had jet-lag this bad. I apparently did pass out for an hour or two because I had to open my eyes to go watch the sunset at 6am.
suffering: The torture and chaos in Zimbabwe is very present here. Many Zimbabweans live in Moz and get jobs easily because they speak English. A friend with us at Sara's house just heard from her husband for the first in a long time. He is an anesthetist and has finally fled the country since the beatings and fear has escalated in the area where they live. The reports we get here are personal- someone's house is threatened to be demolished, people beaten on the streets, few go out to work, police going house to house forcing people to go to rallies, and orders to stay off the streets after around 8pm. Many are leaving the country; this disallows them to vote and their voice is lost.
music: A special mass at the Anglican church was held to honor some visitors and we went to hear our friend sing in the choir. We had to leave before the choir even got started, but the singing throughout the service made me think, I could sit through and even enjoy a mass if it was like this! I soaked in the rhythmic, harmonic African worship.
cuisine: Quiche with sweet potato greens, muffins with fresh pumpkin and banana, wedges of pineapple, oranges, tangerines, fresh mint tea (all homemade). Fish and chips: Salty baked fish with head, eyes, teeth and tongue intact, fries on the side (restaurant). Yum!
Air
Twenty hours of air-travel- what a strange concept. But it got me here, in Beira, Mozambique. I met fun traveling companions along the way- I got a hand-drawn map for Central London and instructions for the Tube, someone who might help me get a window seat on my next flight from Jo-burg, someone to help hunt down information for our flight that disappeared and to commiserate on the long wait.
The air smelled differently in London, Nairobi, Jo-burg, and here in Beira. It's cooler and drier than I expected.
The view of this globe from the air is something I relish- to see mountain ranges slipping past and a single cooking fire sending smoke that I can see at 37,000 feet above, to see (by moonlight) the Nile water meet the Mediterranean Sea.
The air smelled differently in London, Nairobi, Jo-burg, and here in Beira. It's cooler and drier than I expected.
The view of this globe from the air is something I relish- to see mountain ranges slipping past and a single cooking fire sending smoke that I can see at 37,000 feet above, to see (by moonlight) the Nile water meet the Mediterranean Sea.
Eau
I board a plane for Africa on Monday and thought it might be the moment to open a blog.
I'm simply calling it "water" (in French). I like that some French words are only vowels (L' is the article). Readers may feel free to make whatever analogies they find in the title--there's a wash of them!
Water:
here are my reflectings.
I'm simply calling it "water" (in French). I like that some French words are only vowels (L' is the article). Readers may feel free to make whatever analogies they find in the title--there's a wash of them!
Water:
- I'm crossing a big bunch of it soon
- humans consist mostly of water
- volume, quality, and accessibility is a vital measure of health the world over
- a cup of it can turn an enemy into a friend
- it sings
- it refreshes
- it surges and calms
- it can wash away everything you thought you had
- it changes form from tangible to intangible
- it gives glimpses of God
here are my reflectings.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)