Day 26: Kabumbulu to Kabalo

Okay, so we started out on our venture to Kabalo, and are now safely ensconced here. We stopped at Kabumbulu along the way, which has several parishes that we visited. I feel like there isn’t too much interesting to say about it that isn’t a repetition of what I’ve already said—but perhaps that’s an artifact of my fatigue. It is true that the villages are starting to run-together a bit in my mind, partially because many of them have the same needs and struggles. However, in Kabumbulu we began to enter the areas that have been heavily hit by the rebels. I was thinking to myself that “war” isn’t really an apt way to describe what was experienced in these villages, because the word “war” suggests a discrete period of time, a certain discernable beginning and ending point. In many ways, that was never the case here. Though it is largely “safe” now, the residents still have fresh on their minds a “war” that supposedly “ended” in the early 2000s. 

The most memorable village for me was Unga-Nyogo, because, in addition to being very hard-hit by the rebels (DS Mulongo told me that when he had visited this village in the past, people had been wearing necklaces made of human body parts) they also had not seen a “missionary” since the 1960s. Though I am often the center of attention wherever I go, due to being white, this time the children were literally gaping at me, because they had never seen a white person before. While a unique experience, it is perhaps not as important as the fact that it gave me a sense of how abandoned these communities feel by the rest of the world. It was if the church and western governmental influences (not saying that they were all good…) just pulled out and never looked back. This particular village was one that Bob did not get a chance to visit due to being thwarted by a strong head-wind, but I think it was part of my “mission” to get to go there, because one can truly not experience the level of abandonment felt by these communities without this kind of encounter. It reminded me, of course, that even the other villages we visited, despite having been visited by Bob, were more or less in the same “dire straits” as they literally have only ever seen two people (me and Bob) come to their towns in the past decade with a desire to help rebuild the community instead of destroy it. 

Beyond that, we’ve been traveling, traveling, traveling—another testament to the difficulty and expense of in-country travel. I’ve begun to think of it as somewhat akin to a traveling theater troupe—once you get to your destination you are “on” for a few hours, during which you expend most of your emotional and physical energy. The rest of the time is spent on exhausted travel. I was starting to feel a little guilty about being so tired all the time, “dragging down” the crew and all that, but Sunday when we were in church in Kubumbulu, I looked up at one point and almost everyone from our team was asleep! So it’s exhausting all around. Glad to be in Kabalo, finally, though!

Day 21: Mulongo

Doctors Without Borders arrived today. There is a team staying with us here in the guest house. They are Canadian—I think. All francophone, so I’m assuming from Quebec-ish. Really, you would think this to be an event of little significance to our team, and technically it is, but my naturalistic observation of my own reaction to their coming was a demonstration of “how far I’ve come” and how much I’ve changed in the past 20 days. When they showed up, you would think I would have been thrilled to see other Westerners, but really it held no significance for me—having been in the community for a while, I regarded them as somewhat “other”, which is strange, because I’m about as white as they come. But I think it speaks to just how accepted I’ve been in this community as an extension of FPM, and the importance of what we are doing. Despite the parade of children frequently following me around, I’ve been amazed and surprised that the community here has been so open. Because I’m with Mary, they automatically see me as someone with the potential to help and to understand them. Again a testament to the fact that this really Mary’s journey, and not mine. Owing to all of Bob’s hard work, and ESPECIALLY DS Mulongo and his wife’s hard work, I am able to be viewed as an extension of this community (As a visitor, I can never really be fully integrated in the community, naturally, but certainly there are shades of integration). Even in my brief time here, I believe I have heard more about the complexity of the problems here than it is possible for other outside organizations to “hear”. Many organizations “do” great work—doctors without borders included. (Which, do not misunderstand, I cannot speak highly enough of—they been here doling out MUCH-need measles vaccinations…) But our place is different—we “hear”. And so today I feel like I learned the difference between “doing” and “hearing”, it’s not for me to say that one is better than the other— but now I have really learned the difference. 

It’s fitting that this was my observation for the day, because our “agenda” was particularly in keeping with that theme. This morning we visited Dr. Paul at the Zone Desante (Health Zone) which, from what I can gather, is a sort of combination specialty clinic, distribution center, and research center. It is one of 550 similar “health zones” in Congo. They have a special maternity clinic there, and also a clinic for people who have AIDS or are HIV positive. It’s really a wonder to behold, because they are using almost 100 % solar power (they have one diesel generator also) and it appears to be quite efficient. However, the highlight of the morning was talking with Docteur Paul about some of the health problems here. He was speaking mainly of Malaria, which is a HUGE problem. It’s so prevalent here that it requires the utmost diligence to prevent it, which requires resources most people don’t have. Additionally, there is a serious lack of clean water here (which I have spoken of before) and unclean water is breeding ground for mosquitoes. He said that UNICEF had at one point endevoured to provide a mosquito netting for every house, but if you have 10 children, 1 net isn’t going to cut it. And if one person in the family has malaria, it’s a lot easier for everyone else to get it, so even if you can put all the kids under the mosquito net at night, if mom gets malaria, it’s likely everyone else will get it too.

After visiting the Zone Desante, we spent the rest of the afternoon in the guesthouse where we received the pastor’s wives. They came to speak to me about some of their personal struggles, and also to gift me with some BEAUTIFUL fabric, out which we will have a more-traditional Congolese outfit. I know this probably makes me kind of shallow given everything else, but I LOVE the clothes here—they are so beautiful and tend to be made out of brilliantly bright swaths of fabric. So I’m really excited to wear mine. As much of a “feminist” as I sometimes am, I LOVE wearing dresses and skirts—plus you would not believe how HOT and uncomfortable pants are out here, so it’s really just more practical. (I feel a little bit sorry for the men in that regard—but only for a second.) Additionally, the skirts are really just giant sheets of material that you tie around yourself, which makes them practical to use as many other things (like bedsheets, in a pinch) and also are able to be worn by women during their various stages of pregnancy. 

Tomorrow is our “preparation day” for our trip, after which we’ll be gone for a week or so, which means I won’t be posting for a while. After that, I’ll only have about a week left here before I depart for the states—hard to believe!

Day 19: Side post: Kiwewe

Kiwewe is a very small congregation that spent a lot of time meeting in hiding—when the war was at its height, most of the residents were off living in the bush in hiding. And I do mean the bush—whatever wilderness you’re envisioning when I say “bush”—you’re probably not far off. Very little food, no clean water, no shelter. So this community, while living out in the bush, decided to meet as a church while in hiding garnered a lot of notice from other people who were also hiding, not all of it happy (people did not want the fledgling church to draw the attention of the rebels). 

Now that they are meeting as a “church-proper”, their building still consists of some timbers holding up a thatch roof. This community absolutely stole my heart—such a small congregation, a small group of devoted women (9 or 10), and such a strong devotion to community, God, and improving the future. It reminded me a lot of my own wacky, unconventional, small-but-strong church-home at home—Lockerbie Central UMC. As I listened to their stories, I felt that a piece of me will always stay with Kiwewe, “the little church that could”. 

Sometimes it’s hard to know where to spread your “compassion”, both in Africa and as a therapist back in America. You hear so many stories and see so many needs, it’s easy to become overwhelmed and fatigued with your own smallness. The only solution I have found for this is to trust your gut (or your heart/soul, whatever you want to call it), and when you feel that pull of a need or a patient or a community that is speaking to you—hold fast to it. We are only human and we cannot do everything. Feeling as if we should do everything often leaves us paralyzed into doing nothing. (Terror management theory, anyone?) So while I have seen so much while being here, certain things have touched me in a way that I must hold fast to, lest I lose my own hope for change. One of these things will always be the community of Kiwewe.

Day 19/20: L’eglise Musumba, Kiwewe, Kabwe I & II

We have opened our house and our hearts to the women of the community that they might come at any time to talk with us, to unburden themselves of their struggles, even if all we can provide is a listening ear and prayer. Yesterday we received many women at Musumba church, and also in the guest house. We visited Musumba church yesterday morning, to kick off our marathon round of church visits/meetings. Musumba church is in town, so luckily we did not have to go far to get there. They were very happy to receive us (they gave me a chicken). 

Musumba has been a church that has struggled mightily since the war, as they do not have the resources to meet often as a church, especially during the rainy season since they have no roof. They asked for a roof from the UMC conference and were promised the materials they needed, but it took them so long to raise the money to transport the materials (VERY expensive) that the conference gave the materials to a different church. Though the conference is doing their best to meet all needs, they have few resources, so sometimes this happens. As a result, the congregation was feeling pretty dejected when I met with them, so I tried to instill some hope, mainly by being present and listening. 

Today was a very LONG day, and I’m exhausted—so it’s likely that these musings will not be all that cohesive, but I have to try to get them down on paper before I forget them—we’ve met with so many people that already my memory is hazy just from yesterday. Today started really early—I woke up at 6 (much to my dismay) for a 7 am departure. We visited two villages today, Kabwe and Kiwewe. Give that this was my 3^rd and 4^th such expedition, I was a little more familiar with the routine, and am feeling a bit like Paul as he traveled around to meet with different villages and congregations, each with their own set of strengths and weaknesses. After setting out across the lake in the Indiana, I got my first glimpse of the river. Sad to report it’s not very “Heart of Darkness”-esque; it’s pretty laid back and groovy in these parts, anyway. 

After picking up the Mama Kipandanos, it was singing all the way to Kiwewe, our first stop. Kiwewe was amazing to me—so much so that I have designated for it a separate post to follow this one, so for the curious, read on. After Kiwewe was Kabwe, which I perceived to be slightly better off that many of the other congregations we have visited (which may or may not actually be true—just my perception), owing in part to their access to a well. Though they did share that this well is not big enough to serve the whole town, which I certainly believe, and they are needing more wells. The fun thing about visiting Kabwe (other than the fact that it was the biggest celebration for our arrival so far, save for first landing in Mulongo) was that we were also able to appoint a pastor while we were there, as they have been missing a pastor for their church for a long time. So they were quite excited about that. They also have worked very hard to build a school building that I got to see and was very nice. 

After Kabwe I was exhausted and it was back to the boat to return to Mulongo. I’m still loving riding in the Indiana (certainly more than Mana Mary who is afraid of water!) but felt like I could bearly put one foot in front of the other when we got back to town. Which is really lame, because most of the time I wasn’t even making the 30-minute treks from the river into these communities, I was lucky enough to ride on the motorbike with DS Mulongo (yay!) but I think the sun took it out of me anyway.

After such a long day, I feel completely sapped of resources, so I’m praying that some of my strength will be renewed overnight… for me, it’s not just the heat and all the walking and traveling (though that certainly does take its toll) but it’s also VERY exhausting navigating another culture, two to three new languages, and trying to absorb everything that I’m hearing while trying to instill SOME sense of hope. So I’m pretty spent at the end of each day, especially today. So for those of you out there praying for FPM and our work here, please pray that I get a much needed “jolt” of energy before too long… certainly before we make our BIG trip into Kabalo….

Day 18: Mulongo (a light-hearted entry)

So, for those of you who know THE Bob Walters (his reputation precedes him!) you probably know that he always says that part of what we do as FPM is have fun because it can’t be all doom and gloom all the time. For whatever you might think about Bob and Taylor and I (and other Muzungu FPM members) we’re not really the “core” team. The core team are the people here on the ground like Mary and DS Mulongo and the doctors here. When we leave, they’re the ones living it out, working 24/7 for the goals of FPM, so as a side goal of FPM, we try to make things fun, because this is their lives that they live day in and day out, so who has the energy to do anything that long if it’s not at least somewhat fun? So I would be remiss in my duties as “blog artist” if I didn’t take some time to tell you about the fun stuff.

Traveling around with FPM is like traveling with one big, happy (sometimes dysfunctional) family. We live together, we eat together, we travel together. Most of everything I say is always funny to someone, either because I’m happily butchering some important word in Kiluba (accidentally, of course), or because I’m screaming and running away from “giant” lizards (they’re really quite small), or because I’m asking some ridiculous question (ex. “How do the chickens find their way home at night? Don’t they get lost?”). Which, lizards is something all together separate—there are lizards everywhere here—mostly tiny ones. So usually no one bats an eye when there’s a lizard running across the path or whatever, so imagine my surprise yesterday when Mary is calling me out to the garden to see a rather large lizard (perhaps a foot long) that everyone is whacking with a broom and jumping around and screeching. After the lizard is safely expelled from the garden, the days goes on as usual. I remain perplexed. In the evening they casually drop into conversation “oh yeah, that lizard? If he bites you, you die.” Then I was like, “WHAT??” and everyone laughs. (including me.)

My new favorite thing is riding on the back of the motorbike with DS Mulongo, which is great fun! The last time I had done so was in college, so it’s been too long!  It’s very practical for getting from place to place, but it’s also extremely fun. I love it ALMOST as much as being in the boat. (Maybe when I get back to the US I will be a “biker babe”….or not.)

When I came here, I brought my stuffed bear from childhood to keep me company (so dubbed “white bear”, twins with BFF Mollie’s “bearie”). This is a point of unending hilarity—Mary finds it so laughable that she is frequently recounting it to others and gleefully acting out my sleeping with it. The standing joke here between us is that I’m more like her two-year-old daughter, Joyce, than an adult sometimes, because I’m so helpless with some adult-tasks(watching me attempt to cut vegetables  without a cutting board is always good for a laugh). 

Additionally, since Mary is a nurse working frequently with women’s reproductive issues, I’ve gotten the safe-sex  and appropriate-use-of-birth-control talks (good thing—I always wondered how I managed to not get pregnant after 3 years of being married—mystery solved.), as well some humorous illustrations about the barriers to using birth-control here (ask me about the candy metaphor sometime). 

So whether it’s singing and dancing our way through brick-making, using henna to paint our nails (even in Africa, girls will be girls), or making fun of my endless cultural mishaps (me as much as or more than anyone else) we’re always having fun—lest you think that It’s all drudgery and sadness over here. Far from it. J