Out of Congo, into more of Africa

Wow, it has been awhile since I posted anything! I have been busy, so sorry. And I was also locked out of my Google account for the last five days. Somehow, Google had trouble believing that I could be in yet another country, now Cameroon, after Congo and Uganda. I guess all that travel for someone who has rarely left the east coast in the past few years was simply not activity to be trusted. Yes, one can reset accounts, but my American phone does not work in Africa, and I could not convince them it was me, no matter how much information I supplied. My daughter came to my rescue and reset my account in NJ for me. Somehow Google did not have any trouble believing it was me, signing in an hour later from Cameroon.

Getting my assignment wrapped up in Bunia felt like a lot of moving parts, nothing staying still, but nothing getting finished either. The last week was hectic, getting everything documented and in order so I could leave. I kept being invited to, and dropped in on by people I came to know who wanted  to say goodbye. The African culture highly values both hospitality and visitors; it was actually a bit uncomfortable how much they fussed over my leaving.  Americans are friendly, but more on the surface. It is deeper with Africans, although I also know that building a network of relationships is how they get by in their culture, one that is more focused on having resources for survival than accumulating wealth. 

 

Obedi, Jacques, and Kivera

I never got around to writing a blog on the school, but I want to include a picture of Obedi, Jacques, and Kivera (cashier), a picture of the entire accounting function (excluding only the small cashier window) -  which is about as bare bones as you can get - and also a picture of one of the Shalom buildings.  It was built by the Belgiums, and served as the club house back when the property was a country (golf) club during colonial times.  Most of the other buildings are not so grand, and this one looks better on the outside. It serves as a guesthouse for visiting professors, classrooms and the residence of Martin, the German IT guy.

 

Accounting office

Universite Shalom de Bunia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was invited (again) to Dr. Kirvere’s house for dinner just before I left. (He is the father of my translator and the rector of the nursing school in Bunia.) I sat transfixed as he talked about his feelings and experience of fleeing for his life when the Hema/Lendu conflict erupted in Nyakunde nearly ten years ago. Over 1,500 people were slaughtered; the modern 400 bed acute care hospital at which he worked and which had a reputation for serving all who came, regardless of ability to pay (a rarity),  was completely

Rose Kirvere 

destroyed, as was the entire town. He said that he still struggles with the trauma of that time in his head - citing his inability to purchase a refrigerator, a symbol of his fear of losing everything again.  I include a picture of his wife’s braided hair. I saw so many beautiful and elaborate hair braidings during my time in Bunia, but the Congolese do not like you to take pictures of them. But I felt comfortable enough to ask her, and she readily posed. Her hairdo is quite amazing, yes?

 

So what is most impressed upon my memory when I think back of my time in Bunia? 

·         The Congolese are so gentle, they speak so softly; I struggle to reconcile that with the savage tribal slaughter that has been a part of Congo’s story for the past twenty years.

·         The Congolese are very kind and welcoming. Here is a picture of the young men who came to visit and pray with me the night before I left. They stayed for over an hour and prayed

 

Moses, Emanuel, {X}, Prosper & Jonathan

over every part of the rest of my trip from finishing packing until I arrive back in the US. They told me how much they would miss me and wished I could stay longer, that they appreciated getting to know me and felt honored that I talked to them and allowed them to know me.  I know I would not have taken the time, or been as welcoming,  if they had been the visitor coming into my life in America. I was deeply touched.

·         The Congolese do not complain so much. I think a part of that is frankly a lack of hope, but I think they have also seen so much suffering, and are appreciative for just being alive and having today.  They have a joyfulness and a thankfulness about them that is attractive.

But then I was on to Uganda, for a 36 hour respite at a tourist guesthouse before flying on to Yaoundé. After 11 weeks in Bunia, the guesthouse looked like a spa to my eyes…  It was nice, comfortable, and I took a really, really long shower.  Good food too, my first taste of goat, which I found very tasty, carnivore that I am.  Here is a picture of the guesthouse, and the road leading to it. Lots of pretty flowers, and interesting flora and fauna. Contrast that to a typical street scene in Bunia.


Airport Guesthouse

Flowers!

Fauna!



Bunia street

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And English, English spoken everywhere.  Lovely accented African English, and I could understand everything that was said. Of course African English can sometimes appear a bit humorous to an American English speaker. I took a picture of this sign, and wondered if they meant to advertise that the restaurant was ugly inside, or just nice and cozy.

After passing through Nairobi airport (thankfully before the fire destroyed the international arrivals terminal), I am now here in Yaoundé, working my way through a very long review guide document.  But I will save Yaoundé for my next blog, now that I am back in my (writing ) groove.