Placing English

Shalom University has decided to move towards a bi-lingual educational structure, requiring English classes and teaching some required classes in English so that students become fluent in both languages. Nearly everyone with any education here knows at least two languages – Swahili and French, and some know Lingala as well, the dominant Bantu language of western Congo.  Most I meet can speak a smattering of English, and everyone seems to want to learn it. Of course, Uganda and Kenya are closer neighbours than Kinshasa (the capital, over 1,300 miles away by road, although I cannot imagine how many days it might take to get there) and both of them are English speaking, having been former British colonies.  Rwanda just switched their official language from French to English, and that left me wondering how they managed to do that. In America, we are resistant to even learning metric, having pretty much managed in the last thirty years to only accept 2 litre soda bottles.  

Some schools in Congo already offering a bi-lingual educational experience and those schools are increasingly desired.  Ruth, my translator helper, goes to such a school, and that is where she learned English.

For Shalom, the first step is obtaining an assessment of the English level of its current students. Some of the students have studied in Uganda and their English is fairly good. Some studied English in secondary school (increasingly that is required), but others know very little, just a few phrases.  Shalom decided to test its students – a written exam of 120 questions, grammar and vocabulary, followed by an oral exam to test verbal fluency.  For whatever reason, they wanted it done in one day, so they recruited all the English speakers they could muster to help with the oral part of the exam.  I was asked to help because, as Jehoshaphat (dean of the theology school) said in a meeting about the exam, I speak good English. Several of the attendees at that meeting laughed, but he was serious. He said you cannot understand many Americans – they talk to fast, they use too much slang, and they do not pronounce words clearly. He was complimenting my English, although he was not saying I spoke English well, just that I spoke good English. I imagine American pronunciation is difficult for many of them, as African English speakers more closely model British English. As I sat in the meeting listening to the others, though, I thought some of them were probably not the best to be giving an oral exam on fluency …

I was happy to help out, an excuse to put aside accounting for a day.  We worked in pairs, and the idea was to start by asking simple questions, increasing the level of complexity depending on their level of English proficiency. If the student was fairly fluent, we were to ask them if they wanted to ask us any questions, to see if they could sustain a two way conversation. It was interesting to interact with the students, hearing how long it took them to get to school each day (and for some, an hour or more – I wondered if many American college students would hunger enough for an education to walk an hour to get to school each day…), why they wanted to study English (they all said it is the international language ) and what they would do if they were given $1,000. Many could barely speak any English and those interviews went quickly. One young girl struggled especially, and seemed both flustered and embarrassed at her lack of English.  I was ready to tell her sawa (it’s okay), we are finished, when the other tester asked her if she wanted to ask either of us a question.  She perked up and said yes, clearly understanding the question.  She turned quickly and deliberately to me and asked in very clear English, “How old are you?”  I certainly was not expecting that! Most of the students wanted only to know where I was from, or if I had children. I told her, what did I care (I turned 63 in Congo!) and asked her if she wanted to ask me anything else.  She said, very clearly again, “no”.  Either my grey hair captured her attention (I have seen only one Congolese with grey hair so far) or it was the only question she knew how to ask in English!

All in, the school was very appreciative for my help, but I realize that with only two native English speakers around, it was not as if they had many to choose from.  Now I am helping grade the written exams, and there are errors in the answer key.   Hmm, well it is only a placement exam…

Update:  It rained torrents last night, so many thanks for those who have been praying for rain.  I understand better the huge ruts in the road – it rains so hard it simply washes gullies into the road as there are no runoff sewers or trenches, and as the cars and motorcycles run through the mud, it makes them deeper. But it was so much more pleasant to walk around, even if one had to step around mud holes. No dust on most of the roads.

Day 33 without electricity, and I am learning that I can actually manage pretty well without it, at least here in Congo. Of course, I am walking around in crumpled, wrinkly clothes… Hmm, maybe that is why that girl asked me how old I was.  All she saw was one huge wrinkle...

Praise be

No, the electricity is still not on.  Day 27 is drawing to a close and no one knows when it might come back.

This entry is about church in Congo…

It is hard to say whether churches in Congo are any more different than any of some other experiences here. Many things in Bunia seem similar, yet are different. Some things are so different that they do not look or feel much like the same activity in America. Church is the former – similar, yet distinctly different.

Churches in Congo are registered, at least the official ones. (Looks to be plenty of unofficial ones.) I am not sure why, but at some point the churches were all numbered, so one goes to CECA 20 (pronounced seca vingt) or CEP 45 or a church similarly named. Maybe just the Protestant churches are named this way.  Catholics are the largest religious group (about 50%), followed by Protestants of all types (around 30%). Islam, a big religious group in many African countries, is relatively small here, but growing, now about 10% of the population of Bunia. Islam is growing in influence partially from the presence of the UN forces – many if not most of the UN forces here are from Bangladesh and Pakistan. There are three mosques in town, and I hear the call to worship every morning around 5 AM. This house is close to the mosque and the call nearly always wakes me up.  It seems much longer than the call to worship I remember hearing in Morocco. But then by 6 AM during the week, I hear the church singing start. Not sure where it comes from, but there must be some little church nearby that has a morning praise service at dawn each day.  I would struggle to get up for that, but from the sound I hear, a lot of people have no problem with it.

The Witmer’s attend CECA 39 (the Brethren church), which has services in French and Swahili.  Ted was kind to translate for me, but the church service itself is pretty typical in form as many in America - praise team on drums, keyboard and guitar followed by a sermon.  Probably the primary differences is men (largely) sitting in front, women (largely) sitting behind them, but I think that is also typical of Brethren churches in America. Of course, the floors are cement and the benches are narrow and hard. Once the French service is over, the Swahili service fills in, and the instruments change to primarily brass, and many of the women are dressed identically, perhaps they are the choir?  I learned a bit of etiquette after the French service my first Sunday as Dana introduced me to an elderly (but very spry) woman, who grabbed the top of my left shoulder. I didn’t know what she was doing and Dana told me to lower my shoulder to her, which I did. Seems that is the traditional Swahili greeting – not shaking hands, but grabbing your shoulder. If you are older, you grab the shoulder of the younger person who has lowered their shoulder to you.  And if you are the younger, you lower your shoulder to be grabbed.  I think this is primarily done by the older generation; the the younger folks are hand shakers, sometimes with a special handshake that catches me a bit off guard. But since I am mah-ZOOM-ba (a white person), they mostly shake my hand in the western way.

Sunday afternoons, I have been attending the English service at CECA 20. It is mostly younger people and predominantly men, and I think an opportunity for those who are reasonably proficient in English to keep up their skills. Bunia is on the eastern edge of Congo, near the Ugandan border. Many here  have studied in Uganda, so many of the younger adults in Bunia lean toward knowing (or wanting to know) some English, as that expands their economic opportunities. (I am often stopped by people who want to practice a bit of English, which I am happy to do.  Often, the young school children I pass say ‘Good morning’ to me in a very deliberate way, no matter the time of day.  I once stopped thinking perhaps they knew a bit of English, and responded, Good morning. How are you?” They just looked at me, and finally slowly said, “Good morning” again. I had to smile, as I have done that with my French!) I imagine most go to French or Swahili speaking churches in the morning.  But I am getting to know some of them a bit, if for no other reason, they speak English.  I am struck by their names.  My translator gave me a lesson in naming, which I could not exactly follow, but I did gather that each person is given name in addition to their father’s name and their tribe name, often a ‘Christian name’, which means a bible name. I am accustomed to David, and Joseph and Daniel and names like that, but a bit unusual to my ears to hear Nehemiah, Moses, Isaac, Emmanuel, Barnabas, even Melchizedek as names.  I was also struck by the coordinated shirts of the worship team.  Every week, they all wear the same color of shirt, actually the same shirt style too. In a country where an odd lot assortment of western clothing is bought second hand in street stalls from clothing  shipments from the west, America mostly, I don’t know where they find matching shirts. And the color of the shirt varies each week.  (Remember, no credit cards and no postal service, so they cannot be ordering them on line from the GAP.) And immaculately pressed, a wonder to me given no electricity. (They use charcoal irons, which must have one very hot temperature setting…) And as you can see, the dress is predominately western at the English service.

 

I met a young man at the English service who asked me to visit his church.  I was not sure about going, but I decided it was probably okay, so I went with him this past Sunday.  I think the church was Pentecostal, not sure, as it was quieter than Pentecostal churches I have visited in America. When we got to the church, he introduced me to the pastor, who asked if I wanted to give the sermon that day!! I was quite taken aback, wondering if this was normal, or even if I understood correctly.  Well, I did understand correctly (I declined) because afterward, they asked me If I could come back and preach the next time. I was asked to give a word of greeting (and not asked whether I wanted to or not) , and I was prepared for that.  After, the pastor said that I should have talked longer! I knew right then that I was out of my element!  There were lots and lots of singing and choirs, which I enjoyed very much. A three hour service altogether. They had a guest preacher who spoke in Lingala, the language of Kinshasa the capital and all of western Congo, which was translated into Swahili; the man I went with translated for me into English. Very cross cultural. Most of the hymns were not familiar to me. Just as well, as even when I recognize one (like Amazing Grace), while the tune is the same, the rhythm of how they sing it is very different. I have a hard time singing it with them.  Lots of swaying, foot shuffling and clapping, all very measured and often quite slow. A bit daunting for me, as I am musically challenged.  But it was beautiful to see and hear. I stand in these services and think of how much Rachel (my daughter) would love to be here.  She has great rhythm.

 

And I continue to notice how well everyone is dressed.  I marvel, given that I am sinking into a crumpled, wrinkly mess and my shoes are hopelessly ground in with dust.  All the adults look as if they are about ready to attend their daughter’s wedding, that is how much attention and care is given to their dress. And their shoes are spotless.  I understand this is cultural, that appearance is very important. I marvel, but others say that the down side of this is a slavish attention to appearances that is not always healthy.

 

One thing a bit different to me.  All three of the churches had as decorations, what look like party banners strung across the front of the church. I am attaching a picture of the front of the church I went to Sunday so you can see. Not like an American church, at least not in any church I have been in, and I have been in many.

 

 

Accounting in Congo

I have been in Congo for 4 weeks, and time to blog about why I came.  Ach, say the word accounting and I think only my friends in the accounting department where I worked until retiring will bother to read this.  I get it, accounting is boring. Although, the Director of Development at the school I worked for years ago said I was a creative accountant.   I know it was meant as a high compliment, but I was never completely convinced…

The school uses Quickbooks Pro 2007 (QB) to manage their accounting records.  However, much of the finances are really managed by lots of bits of papers and cash. Everything in cash, US dollars cash. I was not expecting this, but this part of Congo has no functional banking system.  Few checks are written; most transactions are handled in cash. Things are bought and sold in cash, people are paid in cash. Plenty of receipts, plenty (!) of paper, and I wonder if this was what life was largely like for Bob Cratchett (of Christmas Carol fame), hunched over his desk keeping paper ledgers for Scrooge . Credit cards are accepted in Kinshasa, but I understand even there (the capital) only a very few places accept them.  Bunia feels like an underground economy, but I am not sure you can have an underground economy if everything above ground is cash too. Collecting any income taxes must be a real challenge. The treasury must be starved for funds, which makes the customs levies all make sense.

The school’s books mirror the economic life of Bunia, and transactions are recorded as they happen.   But hard to track what to expect if you only record what you get when you get it.  At first, I could not understand hardly anything about the school’s books, as things were recorded so differently.  But I kept asking questions.... My primary project, as it developed,  is putting in place a student billing system to bill students at the beginning of the school term. My work experience at a school years back allowed me to understand what needed to be done, but I am not familiar with the accounting software this school uses. I think I could have figured it out, but the books are in French, and I can read just enough French to make it all very frustrating.  I thought it a huge mistake to have come, because I could not navigate the software well enough to figure out how to implement this in their system.  But my church came to the rescue. I am so grateful for their help.  They sent me an old copy of Quickbooks 2008 (close enough!) in English, and I have been able to make real progress.

After being here for 4 weeks, I will finally start tomorrow to migrate hundreds of tuition account receivable balances around their balance sheet to make a way for a student billing system.  I have offered suggestions on making changes to their income statement and balance sheet, and some operational suggestions as well. The books will still not be GAAP, but I think that is not so important here. What they will be able to have is more transparent reporting about how they are doing and the ability to forecast accurately where they will land at year-end.

There are two more projects I can tackle if I have time, and I think I might be able to get to them.  The dispensaire needs an inventory and billing system. While I have never worked with accounting for inventory, QB should be able to support this, and it will be a bit of an interesting challenge to figure it out. Okay, maybe only an accountant would say that…  But they could really use some help on that. And there is a primary/secondary school on campus, not part of the university, but connected - the University sort of acts like their bank, keeping their funds and paying their staff. They need their books set up, because they are going to start managing their own recordkeeping in the upcoming school year.They will be using QB as well.

To give you a flavor for how things work here, the school acts like a bank for a number of people/entities, since the banking system is not that reliable and fees are quite high. Foreign businessmen (mostly Chinese) come to Bunia to sell their goods, and since it is a cash economy, at the end of their selling, they have thousands in US dollars. It is not very safe for them to carry that cash back to their country.  USB is a school that needs lots of dollars (until a few months ago, all salaries were paid in cash) for their operating expenses. So the businessmen give their cash to the University and the University wires funds from the school’s account in Kenya to their banks in China. It all works and everyone gets what they need – funds safely in China and the dollars in Bunia to keep the operations going.  (Of course, all tuition is paid in cash, too…) I marvel at the resourcefulness, but also remember that when I was a Controller, I hardly ever even saw money.  In America, accounting is so much more about controls and process, here it is so much more about handling hard currency.

Updating on other matters:

It has rained some, and they say the rainy season has started, even if much delayed.  Not that much rain, but the days are cloudier, and it is a bit cooler. Although that is relative, as the temperature is pretty much between 23C and 28C year round.  Weather wise, this place would be ideal for US retirees, sort of Florida like, only much nicer. They just need to build roads, develop reliable electricity, have safe water, a good banking system and a postal service, deal with the rebels,  and oh yeah, the malaria thing… Hmm, I guess the developers are not going to rush in… Well, no nice shopping either, but I figure the developers would have managed to fix that one…

It is day 23 without electricity, and I am getting used to it.  No word on when it might come back. Nights are very dark. Several people have checked in on me to see how I am managing alone, and I am now on my fifth book. Nothing much to do recreation wise, except reading, so it is good that I like to read. I am very appreciative of my Kindle, thank you Rachel, and glad to be having this adventure now and not ten years ago before there were Kindles!

Now that the Witmer’s have left, Kwinie is cooking some African fare for me, and I am enjoying that very much. They don’t have ovens here, so everything is cooked on stovetops, just like in Morocco.  I am up to about 12 words or so in Swahili, and able to now be polite to people in Swahili as they pass me in the streets. I can say jaumbo (hello), and ha-bari (how are things) with a measure of confidence! Don’t quote me on the spelling though!  Asante.

Alone...

I am now by myself in the house.  Ted and Dana left for the US Friday, and will not be back until September. I was aware that Ted and Dana would be leaving for the US about 4 weeks after I arrived and would not return to Bunia until after I left.  That would mean 7 weeks more or less on my own.  I hesitated to come here at first, but felt that God opened this opportunity, and He would provide a way. I am glad I did not know that life in Bunia is so difficult; I would probably not have come, and I would have missed the opportunity to serve these wonderful people at USB, and learn a bit about the people and culture of this beautiful country that has seen so much grief and so much pain.

Still, I laugh now, saying to myself, “What was I thinking?”    I can’t even speak French!  These past few weeks have been an introduction to one of the least developed nations in Africa, and one I could not have imagined.  There are no paved roads.  It is not safe to travel after dark and it is dark 12 hours a day.  Even modest homes have bars on their windows and the more substantial ones have not only bars, but walls and metal gates and barbed wire (or glass shards) embedded on top of their concrete walls.  The police can only walk around on their patrols, while so many of the young men zoom about on motorcycles. Even some of the missionaries I have met joke, ‘Welcome to the end of the earth.’ A Samaritan’s Purse field rep I met said  he has travelled to 30 African nations and Bunia is just about the least developed city he has seen, only Freetown, Serra Leone being worse. Yet, these Congolese manage and exhibit great ingenuity amid poverty, health and infrastructure issues. I marvel at the at the way they simply get on with life, constructing sofas and chairs outside in the open, selling recycled everything in the marketplace, sewing clothes using a manual sewing machine outside under the round shelters, washing clothes outside in large basins, pounding manioc root, and cooking outdoors over charcoal fires. The women especially, are very stylish - many with beautifully braided hair, beautiful and impeccable pressed outfits, wearing shoes I can hardly believe are able to walk over the dirt and stone imbedded gullies that pass for roads.  This is a picture of the translator helping me, and so many of the young women around here are dressed very much like her. Très jolie, n’est pas?

 

 I feel a bit more confident about staying on in the house by myself since we have a working generator again. Fourth generator since the power went out 18 days ago. It is a Chinese model, which in Africa usually means cheap.  The Chinese make quality goods, but the saying in Africa is that the good stuff is sent to America and Europe, the junk is shipped to Africa. This fourth generator initially only lasted three hours before it seized up, and Ted took it back. They would not return his money, but they did fix it, and I am going to treat it gingerly in hopes that it will go the distance. The Honda generator is kaput for now, needs new rings, and Ted is hoping to buy the parts in Kampala (Uganda) on his way back to the states and send them back to Bunia on a MAF flight (remember, no postal service in Bunia; even the University's PO box is in Kampala, which by the way, is in another country...) so repairs can be made. This working generator should be able to give the house power for 4-5 hours a day - lights, recharging my cell phone and the laptops, with enough ‘juice’ left over to plug in the fridge for a few hours (I will use the freezer section as my refrigerator) OR pump the water into the tanks. Not enough to heat water or turn on the oven, so cold showers for now, and only eating food that can be cooked over a kerosene burner.  Hmm, this is sounding a bit like camp. I wonder if I can buy marshmallows, Hershey bars and graham crackers in a douka…

Ted, Kwienie (the cook, born the year Queen Elizabeth was coroneted, hence her name, although probably not spelled this way) and I went over the food arrangements the day before the Witmer’s left. Kwienie and I both needed Ted to moderate the conversation because Kwienie speaks Swahili and a little French; I speak English and very, very little French. She will continue to come every day (except Sunday) and cook a hot meal at noon, and do most of the marketing. I had Ted tell her she can start using onions and garlic, and I asked for some African fare.  Should be an adventure! And I wrote down (phonetically) in Swahili the words yes, no, good and bad, so I can communicate a little, at least about how I am liking the food! I am up to 12 words in Swahili now.  I might just get better at Swahili than I am at French. But I do have this French phrase down pat: Je ne parle pas française. Je parle anglais. Pardon moi. I must be getting better at saying this, because sometimes they just start talking away in French at me. 

 

Once I used a French phrase I learned, one to communicate that I am not lost.  I take a walk nearly every afternoon for about an hour, and some people feel I must be lost, seeing this white maman walking about the roads, so I learned a French phrase to let people know I was not lost and did not need help. I carefully repeated my rehearsed phrase to one man who had stopped me, asking if I needed help (at least I am sure that is what he was asking), and he just looked at me and asked, en française, whether I spoke French or English.  When I said, en française, English, he just looked at me and said emphatically in perfect English, ‘So what is your problem?”  I felt a bit defeated, and I just had to laugh at myself.  

 

So I am trying hard to focus on, and remember, that I worship Jehovah Jirah, the God who provides. Next post, maybe something about what I have been doing. I have found that challenging, too!

 

 

Peeing refrigerators and other facts of life

My hosts keep pointing out things I might want to talk about in my blog.  Hence, peeing refrigerators, which I image sounds pretty unappetizing.  Today is day 13 without power. Gas is expensive here, about $8 a gallon, and very expensive given the average wage paid in Congo.  One must be judicious about when and how long to run a generator. At our house, it is being run in the morning for 4- 5 hours, enough to charge laptops and telephones, and again for about 3 hours in the evening, which provides lights (sundown is around 6 PM, no long lingering spring/summer evenings like in the US this time of year) and again, the power to recharge laptops if needed. An unexpected expense – costly for a family (although most would not have a generator) and eating into the profits of businesses. So the refrigerator’s freezer is now more or less the refrigerator for keeping things cold.  It seems to be continually defrosting, and small rivulets of water trickles over the kitchen floor…  Ah, a peeing refrigerator.

Yes, a long haul on the electricity, although there are rumors that power is coming back soon. There were even rumors that this was announced on the radio, although I am not sure those rumors should get any more credence. That was three days ago. There are a number of stories as to what happened. No official explanation and no one seems upset that an explanation was not forthcoming, but the most credible story is that a man threw a chain over electrical wires to short them out so he could steal the copper wiring without harming himself. Unfortunately for all of Bunia, he did not target ancillary transmission wires. He shorted out primary wires coming out of the hydroelectric plant, which fried some major plant equipment.

Even without power, life goes on here and no on hardly mentions it, except us ex-pats. I try to take an hour walk every day and the sound of humming generators is heard everywhere. The schools are open and the children sing, people sit in their douka, selling wares…   But keeping food safe to eat is a concern.  It is not hot here, only about 80 degrees during the day, but the temperature never varies much, and it is humid (in spite of no rain!), so mold grows easily. The Witmers always kept everything in the refrigerator, but that is a feeble option now, and food is spoiling quickly. The WItmer’s will decommission the fridge for their time away, so unless the electricity comes back on, I will be without refrigeration come Friday.  And given the track record with power, I would want to clean out and turn off the fridge too if I were going to be away for three months.  The last thing they need when they come back in September is a moldy fridge.

 I am a bit more concerned about the generator, which is not working well. It has been out for repairs twice, and it will be hard to do my project if I cannot charge my laptop.  The school’s Quickbooks program is older (2007), but it is the last version produced in French so they cannot upgrade. It cannot run on a system higher than XP.  I have it loaded on a school XP, but the battery life is only about 2 hours, so recharging (or plugging it in to a power source) is critical.

I haven’t really been given a full tour of Bunia, but have accompanied either Dana or Ted on a few errands, and I meander around when I take my walks.  Since USB is located in the heart of the city, I have a pretty good idea of the layout of the land.  Dana was taking some of the thermal rolls I brought over in the suitcases to the central hospital, so I got to see what the main government hospital looks like. Rwankola Hospital is so much nicer!  The main hospital was build back in the colonel era, well-built and still standing, large and laid out for a tropical climate. But it was meager and sparse and in need of a major refurbishing. So many women outside cooking and washing their clothes and bed sheets, caring for their sick relations.  No running water, no bathrooms. We walked through the pediatric ward, and its intensive care does not even have oxygen, let alone any monitoring equipment. Dana said that when it is really crowded, they put two people to a bed!  It probably made a stronger impression on me because of my own medical forays to the hospital during the past couple of years, but honestly, it was hard to see this and not be moved.  We dropped off the rolls at the lab, and I saw the blood bank.  Four pints of blood total for the entire hospital.

Today I saw a large tractor shovel like machine spreading dirt on the road, smoothing out the holes and gullies a bit. Personally, I wonder if the Governor of the Province, who came to Bunia to see about the power problem, was taken aback by the roads, and ordered something to be done. Dana said they do this periodically, but the dirt is soft and  lasts only until the rain comes. Of course, no rain in sight right now.  The few main roads they ‘fixed’ today were extremely dusty.  And more dangerous, as the motorcycles can get up to 30 (kilometers, about 25 miles an hour), which is the speed limit, although until today, I hadn’t seen anyone able to go that fast.  There are so many motorcycles and they weave and bobble. There is no left side or right side of the road for any driver, you drive where you can navigate. But the people are so resourceful, transporting even full size sofas on those motorcycles.

Okay, next time, maybe I will talk about the university.  Different than America, to be sure, and my hat is off to the students.

 

PS Internet service is simply not good enough to put in pictures at the moment. So sorry, as I have some good ones and a picture is worth a thousand words.

A morning at Rwankole

Rwankole is the hospital where Dana practices her pediatric skills two days a week, and sometimes more. I was invited to tag along with her morning rounds in the pediatric ward, and then observe her clinic appointments. My translator came along to translate for me. I guess no HIPA law concerns in the Congo…

Main entrance to Rwankole

Rwankole was across town, about 3-4 miles, and getting there was the most jarring 20 minute drive I have ever experienced. I was thinking as Dana drove, that there are worse roads than the ones around the school, and I sent pictures of the road conditions before I had done a proper survey. The hospital just built a new pediatric ward, so I was expecting, well I don’t know what I was expecting, but somehow a bit more than what I found…  The ward is a small building with one big room, and no medical equipment other than a scale for weighing, and some homemade IV poles.  In this room were a dozen or so metal


Pediatric ward

 

Mother watching her child being bathed by nurse

beds, each with a thin and well-worn plastic mat, a foam mattress and a bed sheet. Mothers were holding and rocking their sick children - the mothers take care of them, and cook their (and their child’s) meals outside and wash their clothes in plastic bins, as needed. No complaints on hospital food, I suspect. The walls were freshly painted, and the ward had the same poured concrete floor you find in nearly every building, including homes. With the dust, concrete floor are really the most practical, and sanitary too.

Nearly every child had malaria, most also had typhoid and worms. Dana asked about mosquito nets, and whether the child plays in the river, among other questions, a sure invitation for typhoid and worms. Most had enlarged liver and spleens from the worms, but fortunately there is medicine for all of these diseases. She spent time teaching the nursing students gathered round, for nurses provide most of the primary care in Congo. Dana says Rawnkole has a good reputation for providing good care; the difficulty is money to pay for the medicines, for so many are very poor. (For example, a brick maker / layer – a dual job because construction sites tend to make the bricks on site, and then use them for the building - earns about $5 a day, a lot of hard work for money that does not go very far.)

Next was Dana’s clinic appointments - only one that day. But I was invited into the exam room to observe, and when the visit was over, the mother took out a dollar or two, and gave it to Dana to pay for the visit. I certainly did not expect that! While Dana was checking on something, Ruth my translator took me over to view the maternity ward, and a few other areas of the hospital.  The maternity ward was donated by Finland.  It is a common sight to see the flags of other nations on schools and public service facilities, evidence of their donation, and sometimes I wonder if UNICEF, the UN, Samaritans’ Purse, Americare, and other charitable groups are the only employers here. So much damage done by the war… So much need… And there doesn't seem to be good solutions to all the problems.

 

Workmen were busy refurbishing the old pediatric ward.  And the hospital beds donated by Samaritan’s Purse finally cleared customs and were stacked outside, waiting for the ward to be ready.  I took a picture of them, as they are so Spartan looking, not like anything in America. But the internet is so spotty and weak right now, I cannot upload any more pictures.  I tried a few times, and decided better just to go ahead and post this.

 

Still no electricity (day 13) , and I am weighing my options for living once Dana and Ted leave for the US next Friday. (I will be here 7 more weeks on my own.)  There are options, but I am feeling a bit vulnerable.  For those who have asked, the computers are now safely on campus, but under lock and key of customs.  The rector (essentially the President of the school) is working his government contacts to get the issues resolved. I have no idea of the customs amount in play. But this is Congo, and it is what it is…

 

 

High and Dry

One of the rainy seasons in Bunia is March- June, but this has been a very dry rainy season.  Only 2 short rains (each lasting less than half an hour) since I arrived two weeks ago. And it is hotter than usual, getting into the mid-80’s when it is normally in the high 70’s.  (June is supposed to be the coldest month of the year, but that means mid 60’s at night, and mid 70’s during the day.) I can’t complain about the temperature, it really is pretty moderate given that Bunia is 1 degree north of the equator. But the drought continues, and many here are subsistence farmers, with plots outside town, and many crops have been lost.

The  lack of rain is serious for us too,  and serious because we currently have no power. We lost power during the night last Wednesday and were initially told that the outage would last to the weekend. But now we are being told that the breakdown is quite bad, and it could take some time to fix. (Possibly a month or longer…)  There is a gold mining operation not too far away that depends on the same power plant for their electricity, and in that there is hope. They will exert pressure to get the problem fixed, but getting parts can be difficult, so sometimes even pressure doesn’t make it happen any faster. There are three generators at the power plant, but only one is operational, so when it breaks, there is no power. The University is running on generator for part of the day, but after many days, they are starting to have problems too.  Right now, the university is rationing laptop plug- in usage in the library to graduating students, so they can get their thesis done.  (The advent of laptops has been a boon for the university, as students can work on battery power through short outages, which happen every day, but batteries only last so long and have to be recharged.) And adding to that, the school’s internet was migrated onto a new satellite by their service provider, and the provider does not have enough band width for its customers. So the best we can get with the internet right now is email, and even that is problematic. No ability to access the internet otherwise, so I am dependent on the five minute BBC news that comes over a short wave radio to know what is going on in the world. I miss reading the New York Times on-line, and for those of you who know my passion for reading obituaries, I am feeling a bit bereft!

With no power, there is no pumping of the University’s well, so we have no ‘dirty’ water coming into our home, that is, the water used for showering and washing.  (Those in NJ with well water are familiar with no electricity = no water, given Hurricane Sandy last fall.) We are relying on the tank  of collected rain water for all our water needs.  It is nearly half full with about 650 gallons. As drinking water, 650 gallons will last a long time, but we now need to use that for washing and showering, and with the dry season approaching and the need to conserve our drinking water until the rains come again in September, we are on strict water rationing. (I am already dreaming of a long, hot shower, and I need to get over it, as it may be a long, long time…)

And then the Witmer’s generator conked out!  It was being run a few hours a day to connect to email and heat the water OR run the refrigerator OR use one burner on the stove (it can only really power one thing, plus provide lights and recharge our computers, cell phones and for me, my Kindle.)  The Witmer’s leave for the US in ten days, and then I will be here by myself for another 7 weeks, so okay, yes I am starting to get a bit nervous!  Ted borrowed a generator today, so we have power again at the house for 7 hours a day (morning, and three hours in the evenings which is just about the minimum needed to keep the food cold enough not to spoil -well, that and the fridge is wrapped well in a blanket). I am only writing this now because the computer I am working on for the accounting project is older and only has a three hour battery, so I am out of power until the generator is powered up to recharge it. I am concerned because if the power does not come back on, I have no way to get gasoline for the generator myself.  I am sure the Witmer’s will assign someone to look in on me, but still… I already don’t know how I will communicate with Kwienie, the cook, or Nguana, the outside man, as neither speaks a word of English.  I have learned a bit of French and even a few words of Swahili, but not enough to say anything that makes sense.  However, I am finding that many at the University speak some English, far more than I expected, so I am going to hold on to that as my comfort right now.  I am sure it will work out one way or another, but I am gaining in my appreciation and admiration for people who come to the US and have to navigate our largely ‘English only’ culture…

God is in this, too, so I am not alone!   I accompanied Dana to see one of the support group leaders today , and it was humbling to see how a Congolese family lives. If I never have any gasoline to run the generator, I am living in a palace.  No open door to let the mosquitos in, or the roosters, and we still have running water, so my lips are sealed of complaint this evening!

A bientôt