A day off in paradise

This past Saturday was Parents' Day in DRC, though I don't know if it's an international holiday or not. Needless to say, we are enjoying an extra day off today, and three-day weekends are always welcome! Saturday was a nice day to rest and visit friends that I haven't seen in awhile, and Sunday was busy as always. Church starts at 9:30, usually finishes around 12:30 - 1pm, but I didn't get home until close to 3pm. Then I go to an international missionary Bible study, which starts at 4:30pm and we usually get back around 7pm. One of my favorite times of the week is our after study jam session, for which we used to enjoy the accompaniment of Andrew, a CARITAS intern who is now back in the States. He plays amazingly, and by ear, so we had fun learning new songs in all different languages every week. Sigh, we all miss Andrew, but hope that he's enjoying his summer back in Cali.

Today has been relaxing as well as productive. I always enjoy getting up early, and for me sleeping in on a day off means I get up around 7am. Delicious Ugandan coffee made with a French press and fruit salad with yogurt for breakfast with my Bible and journal are my favorite way to start a day. I like to sit either outside or close to the window so I can feel the cool morning breeze that comes off the lake through the early morning haze. Our staff who normally cook for us also have the day off, so this morning I decided to do the dishes and make a banana cake (or bread, I’m not really sure which!). I have been having fun using maize flour in baked goods, and the bread/cake that I had made just last night was already gone so I decided we needed more! I have enjoyed borrowing a friend’s More with Less Cookbook and have tried several of the recipes.

Looking over the lake, it’s hazy and I can hardly see the outline of the mountains on the far side. I’ll definitely be happy when the rains start, hopefully in another month! Walking through town is extremely dusty, and I couldn’t stand not washing my feet when I got home from church yesterday afternoon.

Ok, time to go get dinner started! (I love having the kitchen to myself on days off! – but I don’t mind the help when we’re working all day!)

A New Passport

I didn’t want to, but finally I didn’t have a choice. A little over a month ago, my car (read FH Land Cruiser) was robbed when I and a friend left my computer bag locked under the back seat around 6:30pm. We thought it would be fine since there were lights from two big buildings, one a bank, as well as two guards. We went to see a friend who lives right next to the bank and when we came back out, the car was all locked up, but the bag was gone. My laptop, back up hard drive, flash disk, PASSPORT… The sinking feeling that took over my insides didn’t last very long. Somehow, one of the first thoughts was that I was thankful for my phone and my Bible in the little bag I had on me. With all the conflict and risk people have of really losing everything – I mean everything – I was content to still have my life and my health and my family and friends. When the soldiers (from either side, Congo or Rwanda) pass through villages, they often take everything people have, digging up their fields, eating their goats, raping their women and children…I know that it is God who gives and takes away, and I still have a lot to be thankful for.

I waited for a month to see if my stuff would turn up on any of the black markets around town, but no luck. I would have paid to just have my information from my computer and my passport! I really didn't want to lose all the stamps and visas I've been collecting all over the world in the past few years. Last week my new passport came to the American Embassy in Kigali, Rwanda, and should be arriving in Bukavu tomorrow. I was sooo grateful to be able to go to Kigali to apply for a new one rather than having to go to Kishasa. Everything about Kin is hot and dirty and expensive and dangerous and really just too complicated. I lost a lot of time and sleep the last time I tried to go there, and I didn’t want to have to go back if I didn’t have to.

People at the Kigali embassy were very kind and helpful, though it took a lot of time and negotiation to get across the border into Rwanda. I won’t ever not bring my driver’s license with me next time I try to cross a border without my passport! What can I say, I learn the hard way. I just felt bad since Mom and Lydia were waiting for me to finish so we could start the 5.5 hour drive to Kigali from Cyangugu!

Needless to say, we made it there and back, and now I’ll have a passport again very soon.

Side note: I apparently got malaria around the time of this travelling (Monday to Wednesday) and was miserable by the time I got back to Cyangugu on the bus! I’m all better now, but it took about a week to get over it. I’m baptized now, as they say, since that was my first experience of malaria!

Precious Breath of Life

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At 8am on 25 July 2009 a precious little boy was born to two friends of mine. At 6pm that evening, I got to cradle him in my arms during a visit to the hospital where Valerie (better known as Mama Barik after her firstborn) is staying. It has been an extremely long time since I’ve held such a new baby, and one so beautiful! Pink skin with his lower lip tucked up somewhere under his upper. He didn’t even have a name yet, since the father was still on his way there.

Every breath of life is such a gift from the Lord, and it’s God’s grace when a healthy baby is born. Mama Barik went through a difficult time before the baby finally came out, and it was only through prayer and God’s gracious hand that things turned out well. A little over a year ago she had to have a c-section with Barik, and though the state of this pregnancy also seemed to require an operation, the doctors were afraid to reopen her so soon. Somehow, miraculously, and after much prayer, another beautiful boy came into the world. All the doctors and nurses in the ward testified to the miraculous event.

I will proclaim the name of the LORD.
Oh, praise the greatness of our God!

Deuteronomy 32:3

Family Visits!

On July 5 2009 I had the extreme pleasure and privilege to welcome two members of my family to the DRC! My beautiful mother and sister came out for about a week to see what my life is like here in Congo (pictures on facebook). We went around with friends and out to some of our FH project sites, and talked and talked and talked. Basically, it was a great time, though much to short for our liking.

So it's been awhile...

...far too long, I know! I’m pretty sure I even forgot that I have a blog for a few months back there. Things got really busy at the office since I was running the Programs department for awhile while my supervisor was out of town. A lot has happened in the last half a year though (has it already been that long!?).

Insecurity in our project sites has been increasing as the Congolese army (FARDC) has been working with MONUC (the UN mission to Congo) to root out the FDLR (Rwandan Hutu rebels who have been hiding in Congo’s forests since 1995 when they were chased out of Rwanda). You may have already heard a bit of the story, but international news doesn’t often report on details of the conflicts in Congo. Kimya II Operations (Kimya ironically means peace in Lingala) have finally begun, if not officially.

Every week we hear stories of FDLR kidnapping villagers, sometimes torturing them, sometimes holding them hostage for a reward. The Hutu extremists have been living next to or among Congolese villages since they arrived 15 years ago, so forcing them to leave is quite a challenge. The problem, though, with deploying FARDC troops into the province to “protect” the civilians, is that they too tend to live off the backs of the population. Soldiers are rarely, if ever, paid on time, and their meager salaries do not promote an easy life for their dependants. The 14^th Brigade is well known for raiding villages for useful items and their wives can be found selling the stolen goods closer to town.

In short, the whole thing is really complicated, and I really don’t know if the military will ever succeed in chasing the Interhamwe out of the country. In North Kivu when FARDC and Rwandese troops arrived, the rebels fled the villages where they were living, but not across the border. After the troops left the now “liberated” villages, the FDLR came back and punished the villagers for being complicit in the Congolese government’s desire to wipe them out.

We humanitarians are waiting for conflict to die down a bit so we can go in and pick up the pieces. There are already tens of thousands of displaced people in all three of the main territories of S Kivu: Mwenga, Shabunda and Kalehe. Now even Fizi is starting to see movement of populations as Kimia operations begin in the south. FH is planning to respond to the needs of some of the displaced (differentiated from refugees who seek haven outside their own country) in the food security sector. We’re working on proposals and budgets this week.

More coming soon, don’t worry!

I didn't actually see the clowns...

Hat tip to Texasinafrica again for pointing out this BBC article. Now, that's an interesting idea...the whole issue of how to actually help people rebuild their lives is a complicated one. Does throwing (oh sorry, I meant to refer to budgetary support...) money really work? building houses? distributing food? or medicines? or tools? ...or sending clowns around to the IDP camps (they're not refugees outside of their own country) surrounding Goma?

I honestly don't know what does work, especially in the incredibly complicated and many-layered, conflict-driven humanitarian crisis situation which is Eastern Congo. Maybe that makes it sound worse than it is...or maybe it really is that bad.

We drove past those 7 IDP camps on our way to Minova this afternoon, just about 60km south west of Goma, where many people have fled over the past few years to escape the fighting and looting of various militias and militaries. This area is one of the most militarized around, and the presence of various uniformed and armed men testifies to this fact. Just outside our residence compound a group of FARDC soldiers and their families are camped out (apparently waiting for deployment orders); on the 60km route from Goma to Minova (a much better drive than the Bukavu-Kavumu route, even if Kavumu airport is only 35km from Bukavu!) we pass Mai Mai soldiers, FARDC, and if you continue to where we are reahabilitating a mountain road, FDLR and even more militias are visible. It's not so interesting to drive up to a Mai mai blockade, slowing down so the strangely dressed (they are a bit crazy I think) soldiers can see who is in the vehicle. I was happy to be with our Infrastructure coordinator who always knows someone important enough to get him out of almost any situation!

People have fled to Minova from the surrounding hills of Masisi territory from the FDLR (Rwandan militia) who continue to terrorize villagers and their crops and livestock. FH and other NGOs have been working to intervene and bring much needed assistance to the displaced as well as the communities who have welcomed them. The IDP camps that pop up on the side of the hills bring vulnerable people together without clean water sources, latrines, sources of food or economic exchange, forcing them to depend on the various humanitarian actors. It's certainly not an easy or enviable life, but one that many are surviving (and hopefully a bit better as a result of the clowns' entertainment...) through sheer will and definitely God's grace.

Tomorrow my colleagues and I will participate in a ceremony to handover to the local authorities the road we built so they can hand it back to the local maintenance committees which will keep it from going to pot too quickly (torrential rains and landslides as well as tons (literally 1000s of lbs) of cows wandering up and down through the hills makes for a quickly deteriorating road!). More on the potential success of the ceremony later! (and pictures!)

It's the little things

You know, it's really the little things that end up making life life and making it worthwhile. Sure we get excited for big events in our lives -- weddings, births, graduations, vacations, but it's the in-between that makes up the actual life we live. The things I've been excited about lately are the beautiful sunshine that comes through my office window in the morning, the way the thunderstorms roll in almost every afternoon, my great little speaker system (which normally provides music in Renee's shop) that is right now in my living room and making Battlestar Galactica episodes and any music more enjoyable , long lunch conversations with dear friends (especially the mutually edifying kind), the way God's joy fills my heart despite the suffering that surrounds and the stress that threatens...these are all small things. Or maybe they're not.

I was thinking about David's Psalm 23 and the way the Good Shepherd guides us. If we are sheep like Jesus always says, then our lives are meant to be like the lives of sheep: following the One who leads us through green pastures, beside quiet waters, our souls being restored. It's not "everyday" that a sheep might get lost, almost fall off of a cliff, get eaten by wolves. Not to say that it doesn't happen, but a sheep's everyday life is meant to be peaceful and spent with the Shepherd that loves him. Despite the chaos that surrounds, the destruction and turbulence that the Prince of this earth loves, Jesus leads us in peace, and we don't need to worry.

That's not to say that there won't be trouble in our lives, and Jesus assured us that in following Him, the world would set itself against us. But--and it's a big but--Jesus gives us His Spirit to make up for our weakness and the craziness of this world. So the everyday things -- eating, drinking (and especially spiritually), working, talking...and following the Shepherd, doing these in the name of Jesus is what the Christian life is about. For who can be trusted with big thing who cannot be trusted with small ones? So let's be the sheep we are called to be and do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. All the little things will add up to make a life worth living for the One who created us.

Today is International Women's day!

Yes, that's right, you may not be aware, but 8 March is the day women are celebrated all over the world. Here in Bukavu, we celebrated women yesterday, and just about all the women in town turned out for a parade down the main street down to where the governor sat watching everyone. The normal practice is for each organization or company or group of women to buy the same fabric and get an outfit made. So, of course we at FHI did just that, and it was really a big hit! Kristee, Renee, and I had nicely tailored, somewhat fancy outfits, so of course all the Congolese loved it. We essentially marched twice since we walked in the parade and then back through pretty much the whole town back to the shop. I think we got back to the shop (Renee's Rendez-vous Coffee Shop) after 1pm to eat lunch, and since we got outside to the parade just after 9am, it made for a long day out in the sun! All three of us FHI wazungu got pretty bad sunburns! (more coming, but after I sleep a bit :) )

You'll want to look at this

I found this collection of portraits from NE Congo on one of the blogs I follow (hat tip to Texas in Africa for the link). The thing that amazes me is the differences between the way the people in the pictures are just barely holding onto their lives, being chased from their homes by armed groups and general insecurity, and the way many Congolese and expats live here in Bukavu. There has been hardly any change in security here in Bukavu (though we never could walk around at night or anything like that). The poverty too, while quite evident, is less acute and less obvious in some ways. We don't live up in the hills in the slums with the majority of the population, so sometimes it's hard to remember all that people go through just to make it through a day.
Just some initial thoughts...comments and questions welcome.

Update: yesterday was apparently the National Day of Humiliation, Fasting and Prayer in 1863...wonder what it would be like if such a thing could still be valid in the US and other countries.

And then there were two...

We used to have three kittens. Black, grey, and blond. All boys, all feisty, and all nursed from the close-to-death state we found them in to health by Kristee. A few weeks ago, Kristee had to go down to Kalemie to help work out some finance issues with our projects in N Katanga. Joel and I were happy to take care of the babies (as we call them) while she was gone. It ended up being a catastrophe. Not the fact that Joel and I were caring for the cats, but the bad luck we had was sadly fatal. About half way through Kristee’s time down south, her favorite kitten, the grey one called Quinton, jumped out of Joel’s arms from about four feet up. He struggled, wobbling into the box where they sleep, not putting any weight on his back left leg. Joel and I weren’t sure how we would tell Kristee the news about her favorite kitty…but it got worse. The next morning, the landcruiser wouldn’t start, so we had to push it back and forth to try and jump it. We were still taking the cats back and forth to the office everyday to make sure they got enough food, so we had them in closed up in their box while we worked on the car with the guards. After finally giving up on Mobile 3 (“mobile trois”), we went inside for a few minutes to wait for another car. We also have two guard dogs at the house, one of which is really pretty wild. Though we had closed up the cats well in the box, the mean dog, Buddy, came and knocked it over. The one cat that still had all four good legs, Simba (aka Blondie or Muzungu) ended up outside the box and at the mercy of the crazy dog. Now we really didn’t know what to tell Kristee about her precious babies—ahem, I mean, kittens. Joel buried Simba outside the compound with a moment of silence—and the disturbing sinking feeling of imagining how we’d break the news to Kristee who still had a week left in Kalemie. She ended up taking the news ok, though the tears were many. Though I know cats are not people, and people die all the time, I found myself quite saddened by the fate of little Simba, or Blondie, as I liked to call him. In a very minute way, it brings into perspective the realities of life and death. It’s easy to get attached to things—people and animals especially. And sometimes it’s only after they’re gone that we realize the strength of the attachment. As I am typing this post, the remaining two are asleep lounging in the crook of my left arm, content with their full bellies.