10 Meter Crocodiles, Lava Lakes, Trump, and the Epic History of a People

Hey friends, a lot has happened since my last post. I’ve taken several more trips to Burhinyi and also a couple of recreational trips in the area; one to Bujumbura and one to climb a volcano in Goma. And then of course, Donald Trump was elected president. That was all a month ago. Since then, I’ve been sitting around the office writing reports, reading history, and learning Swahili.

Buja

I took a trip to Bujumbura, the capital of Burundi, for two reasons. The first reason was to visit my college friend, Jacob Yoder, who works with MCC in Burundi. The second reason was a rumor that there are a lot of Italian’s and thus a lot of pizzerias in Bujumbura. With dreams of friendship and pizza, I climbed into the front seat of a small van and headed for the Rwandan border. People traveling between Buja and Bukavu have the option of going by way of Rwanda or by Congo. I chose Rwanda because the roads are better. This means I have to first cross from Congo into Rwanda and then Rwanda into Burundi.

Crossing the Rwanda Congo boarder is always kind of a trip, because of the stark difference between the two countries. Rwanda is extremely well organized, thanks to President Paul Kagame. All the farm plots are square, all the roads are perfect, and plastic bags are illegal (for the environment). It’s one of the safest countries in the world. I’ve heard a rumor that you can be arrested for spitting on the ground. Congo is pretty much the opposite of this, and the border embodies these differences, particularly the current bridge situation. The border crossing is at the south end of Lake Kivu, and there is a bridge that crosses a small river. Actually, there are two bridges. One of the bridges is really nice. On the Rwandan side, it’s connected to a really nice asphalt road. On the Congo side, it drops off onto a dirt road. Then there’s the second bridge. This one is less nice. It's made of wood, and it does not inspire confidence. This is the bridge everybody uses. It’s baffling to the fresh Muzungu, but after 9 months here I feel like I’m starting to understand. My guess is that the Rwandan government refuses to let people use the new bridge until the Congolese government fulfills whatever promise it failed to keep, probably related to building a road on its side of the bridge. This has been the situation for over a year now.

And so, once again, I walked across the crappy bridge, leaving the chaos of Congo for the impeccable organization of Rwanda. There’s something surreal about the billboards and the green street signs. When I crossed the border between Rwanda and Burundi, I felt in strange dream like way, as though I was back home. It was because of something I hadn’t seen in a while. Something I saw almost every day growing up, but almost never in Congo. It was a parking lot. 

The beautiful 3 hour drive through Rwanda and Burundi went by pretty quickly. This area is much flatter and hotter than Bukavu. Burundi felt like a country in the middle between Rwanda and Congo. The roads were not as nice as Rwanda, but better than Bukavu. The country has some political problems, but the water and electricity are reliable, and the pizza rumor turned out to 100 percent correct (hallelujah). Buja is also home to a coffee shop/ bakery, that makes pretty mind blowing baguettes. These things are all great, but I’m reminded where I am when a group of locals scramble toward me at breakneck speed attempting to shove fruits through the car window.    

The city was nice, but also a bit empty. Jacob told me that a lot of people left about a year ago, because of government threats. Jacob works in food security. He told me that because of overpopulation, many farmers don't own enough land to grow what they need to survive. His organization helps farmers access farming products that increase their output. We talked a lot about our work and politics and Africa in general.  We also spent time at the beach where Jacob told me a story about a 10 meter crocodile named Gustave who lives in Lake Tanganyika. We swam a bit, despite our fear of being eaten by alligators and/or hippos. It was a great weekend.

Goma

My trip to Goma was equally exciting. I had the pleasure of visiting Virunga National Park, which is one of the oldest national parks in Africa. I met Jacob there and we climbed Mt. Nyiragongo, an active volcano with the largest open lava lake in the world. It was pretty spectacular. Our party included 8 members, me, Jacob, his friend Faithful, a Belgian, a Spaniard, a Norweigan, a Dutch girl, and a German, as well as a number of armed guards and porters. It was a 6 hour hike up the mountain, after which we spent the night at the peak.

This is a documentary about Virunga national park, made in 2014. I haven't seen it but I've been told it's very good and can be found on netflix.

 I also spent a couple of days in Goma, hanging out with my Seedmates Grachet, Elodie, and Aaron. We talked about their work, and Elodie made delicious things for us to eat. I’m really fortunate to have such wonderful friends. I was less fortunate on the way home, when I got pickpocked while getting on a boat. I lost my phone, and with it all the pictures I took of the volcano, but I was luckily able to salvage a few from friends.

Trump

I arrived back in Bukavu on Election Day. Because I lost my phone, I had to follow the whole thing on RFI (Radio France International). French reporters interviewed American voters about their opinions and the conversations were translated into french. A man says he’s voting for Trump because he is not afraid to speak his mind. A woman says she’s proud to vote for another woman for the first time. I woke up at 6am on Wednesday expecting things to be over, but they were still counting votes. Trump was ahead, having already won Ohio and Florida. By the time I got to work, was clear that Trump would be our next president.

These results were a little unexpected, but then so was Trumps whole campaign. I’m hoping that he will continue to surprise me, this time by doing a good job as president. One thing that gives me confidence is my many Congolese friends, who support Trump wholeheartedly. These are people I hold a great deal of respect for, such as my pastor, my Swahili teacher, and my Seedmates Aaron and Mariam. Aaron sent me a message the day after the election; “Trump a gagne. Je suis content” (Trump won. I am content). My pastor is looking forward to Trump “shaking things up.” My Swahili teacher told me he thinks Trump will be one of the greatest presidents ever. He said “a president who puts America first, this is good.” I think all of them are impressed by Trumps strongman philosophy. Also, most Congolese don’t like Bill Clinton, because of his support for Rwanda. 

This is an article about what a Trump presidency might mean for Congo and Africa as a whole. It's interesting, but Trump has so far been pretty unpredictable in many ways, so it's hard to guess what he will do.

The Epic History of a People

I spent a good portion of this last month reading through David Van Reybrouck's Congo: The Epic History of a People. It's a fantastic book that covers most of Congo's history from the arrival of Europeans to the present. He combines hundreds of personal interviews with in depth research to create a portrait of this vast country. It's a great read for anyone looking to learn a bit more about a strange country in the middle of Africa. I'm guessing most of you don't have time to read it, so I'm going to give a brief and incomplete summary of the history of Congo.

People have been living in this area since pretty much forever, but we don't know about most of that time period, because nothing was written down. The history book itself is more a western idea than Congolese. All the history books about Congo I've read were written by white people (not to say that Congolese people don't write, there are books about Congolese history written by Congolese, I just haven''t read them). All of these authors spent a lot of time interviewing Congolese, so consider this a history of the Congo from the perspective of some white people who talked to some Congolese people.

Our story starts from the time that white people arrived in this area. The earliest account is of Portuguese sailors arriving in 1482. A lot happened in the next 400 years (including a lot of slave trading in the east), but I'm going to skip ahead to 1871 when Henry Morton Stanley (a European pretending to be an American, working for The New York Herald) traveled across Africa by floating down the Congo River (he was actually searching for the source of the Nile). Europeans suddenly understood that the Congo River runs all the way from what is today Eastern Congo (where I live) to the Western cost of Africa. The massive Congo River and it's many tributaries would soon cause this large part of central Africa to be combined into the thing we today call the Congo. 

On June 1st, 1885, the power hungry King Leopold II of Belgium changed the lives of many Africans for a century to come, when he claimed personal sovereignty over a space that he called the Congo Free State. Under the guise of humanitarianism, he fooled other European rulers into giving him control over this massive space. He spent the next 23 years pillaging as much rubber, ivory, and other valuable natural resources as he could from the region. His methods were pretty much as brutal as they come. Villages were expected to provide, free of charge, a certain number of baskets of rubber per month. If they came up short, someone might lose their hand, or maybe something worse. It's hard to know for sure, but there are estimates that 10 million people died as a result of these policies. Leopold himself never set foot in the Congo.

The Belgian government finally took over the Congo Free State in 1908, keeping the country colonized until 1960. This time period was not quite as bad as the Leopold era, but Congolese people were still exploited and treated as second class human beings. This was a good time for the country in terms of economic development and infrastructure, but a lot of the economic achievements ended up benefiting the colonial owners more than the Congolese people who did the labor. This era also includes the two world wars. The Congolese army (knows as Le Force Publique) fought and won a number of important battles for the Allies throughout Africa, particularly during the Second World War. Unfortunately, the Congolese troops who did most of the fighting did not get much credit, coming home from the war to find that they were still second class citizens. 

In 1955, independence was barely a dream. A Belgian who wrote an article suggesting that they should work toward Congolese independence by 1985 was seen as crazy, because Congo could never be free that soon. But the ball started rolling, and the Congolese people demanded freedom, which was granted. June 30th, 1960, the Congo officially became an independent country. Joseph Kasavubu was the first democratically elected President and Patrice Lumumba the first democratically elected Prime Minister.

It's understandable why the Congolese people wanted independence, but in hindsight, it' unfortunate that it happened so quickly. Most of the leadership positions were taken over by fairly young Congolese who didn't really have much training for the massive task set before them. Congolese leaders like Lumumba and Kasavubu were obviously talented, but lacked administrative experience (Kasavubu has a bit of experience as a governer of a small area in Kinshasa, but Lumumba had worked at a post office before becoming prime minister). They also face a very difficult task, leading and governing a massive area with 495 different tribes and languages. There was not a lot of motivation for peoples from other areas to stay loyal to Kinshasa. Why would people in Katanga want to pay taxes to and be controlled by people hundreds of miles away? Lumumba and Kasavubu were also faced by the enormous challenge of navigating the cold war political situation and the desires of outside powers (particularly western) to maintain control.          

The time period of 1960-1965 is sometimes referred to as la pagaille (the mess). The Eastern half of the country quickly seceded following independence. The army was at this point still led by a Belgian, General Emile Janssens, but Lumumba (the former postal worker with no military experience) was the Minister of Defense. Congolese soldiers soon began to revolt because they were not being given higher positions within the military. Lumumba responded this by getting rid of General Janssens and replacing him with a Congolese guy named Victor Lundula. The mistake here is that he replaced General Janssens a little too quickly. There were Congolese being trained for the position in Belgian schools, but they would not be ready for a few more years. Lundula, like many of the leaders, was not prepared for the task before him. The army that had preserved order for many years soon fell apart. This all took place a few weeks after independence. Lumumba also introduced a new Chief of Staff, his former assistant, a journalist who had spent a number of years serving in Le Force Publique, Joseph Mobutu. 

Everything was very unstable for the next few years, as politicians and foreign powers struggled to gain control. In 1961, Mobutu launched a coup d'etat (encouraged by the US and Belgian governments) taking control of the military and arresting Patrice Lumumba, who was soon killed. Van Reybrouck claims that the US and Belgian governments never intended for Lumumba to be killed, but some Congolese I know would disagree. Lumumba's ousting was primarily due to his socialist tendencies and his friendly communications with the Russian government, but Mobutu and western officials probably would have also claimed that it was about preserving order in the Congo. Mobutu spent the next few years ousting his political rivals, eventually taking complete control of the country in 1965 (still being supported by the West). He would hold onto power for the next 32 years.

The early Mobutu years were promising. He was an undeniably brilliant politician, known for working 12 hour days. He built the military back up and managed to unite a country on the brink of chaos. In 1971, he changed the name of the country to Zaire, in an attempt to re-africanize the culture. Christian names and neck ties were suddenly made illegal. The economy did well in the early years. In 1971, Kinshasa hosted a boxing match between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman (for which Mobutu paid $10 million).

Although Mobutu was very intelligent politically, he was known to be less intelligent when it came to matters of economics. This did not end up well for the average Congolese person. In 1973, Mobutu began a process called Zairianization, in which he took all the businesses owned by foreigners (there were many) and gave them to Congolese people, mostly his friends. Most of the new business owners had no idea how to run their new businesses, so many were run into the ground or sold, and a lot of people lost there jobs. There were some Congolese who rose to the task and profited greatly from this deal, but for most of the population this was the beginning of many years of economic decline.

By the 1980's, Zaire's financial situation was not looking so good. It was now overwhelmingly clear that Mobutu was embezzling massive amounts of money, while government services were non-existent. Everything ran on bribes. A word that people often use is Kleptocracy. Even the soldiers didn't get paid. There's a famous Mobutu quote: "You have guns. You don't need a salary." The west, in the midst of the Cold War, continued to pour money into the pockets of Mobutu, their central African ally, but not much of that made it to the Congolese people. By the late 1980's inflation had skyrocketed (because the government kept printing money to support itself). The cold war ended in 1991, but Mobutu would still hold onto power for 6 more years.      

In 1994, the political landscape of central Africa changed when Paul Kagame led the Rwandan Patriotic Front to take control of Rwanda. The world watched with horror as the retreating former Rwandan government killed over 800,000 Rwandans while fleeing the country. These genocidiaires then settled in the Eastern Congo along with 1.5 million Rwandan refugees. Hiding in the UN camps among the many refugees, they began to regroup with the intention of retaking Rwanda. Mobutu, a friend of the assassinated former Rwandan president, welcomed and protected them. Paul Kagame was not happy with this arrangement.

Kagame knew that starting a war would not sit well with his foreign donors, so instead of going in himself, he created a rebel movement with a Congolese figurehead. In 1996, the Alliance des Forces Democratiques pour la Liberation (AFDL) invaded the Eastern Congo. They were led by Laurant-Desire Kabila, an old socialist rebel leader, who had fled the country years earlier. Many of the high ranking officers were Rwandans who formerly fought for Kagame. In addition to Rwanda, Uganda also provided support. The Rwandan army went after genocidaires, which actually just meant massacring as many Hutu refugees as possible. An estimated 2 to 3 hundred thousand Hutu refugees were murdered. Kagame used the force as a front to go after the Rwandan gencidaires, but ended up getting Mobutu as well. The complete incompetence of Zaire's military became apparent as the AFDL marched almost unchallenged across the country toward the capital. In May of 1997, the AFDL took Kinshasa and Kabila was inaugurated as president. Mobutu died four months later in Morocco. These events would later become known as the First Congo War.

The Second Congo War broke out on August 2nd 1998, merely one year later, when Kabila turned on his Rwandan and Ugandan backers. 6 days earlier, on July 26, Kabila had announced that all of the Rwandan soldiers, who served in the military that brought him to power, were to return to Rwandan. The Rwandans were pissed, so they started another rebellion in the East, this time called RCD. They did pretty well as first, but Kabila reached out for help from other countries. He managed to create 7 country coalition, receiving help first from Zimbabwe and Angola; then later from Namibia, Sudan, Chad, and Libya. The Second Congo War had an estimated 3-5 million casualties. The First Congo War lasted for 7 months, but this one lasted for five years.
 
Van Reybrouck, in his book, breaks the Second Congo War into three phases. The first phase was between August 1998 and July 1999. This consisted of Rwandan and Uganda taking over parts of Eastern and Southern Congo, attempting to overthrow Kabila. This phase ended in July 1999 when the Lusaka Peace Agreement was signed creating a standstill. The second phase was from July 1999 to June 2002. In this phase, Rwanda and Uganda no longer tried to advance, but still controled half of the Congolese territory, plundering the countries many natural resources. It ended with the Pretoria agreement in June 2003, when the war was officially finished. The third phase is the ongoing conflict between the many armed groups in the Eastern DRC. The third phase continues to this day.

In January of 2001, Laurent-Desire Kabila was assassinated by one of his bodyguards. There are many suspicions about who was behind the assassination, maybe Rwanda, or America: maybe Lebanese businessmen or just a disgruntled child soldier body guard who felt betrayed. The world may never know for sure. His son, Joseph Kabila, was quickly appointed to replace him. He was young (29) but proved himself to be very intelligent, using international pressure to bring an end to the war while simultaneously consolidating power. Through a long series of talks, between Kabila, Rwanda, Uganda, and the many armed groups in the Congo, a peace agreement was reached. The largest UN peacekeeping force in history (first 8,700, then 16,700, then 20,000 troops) was dispatched, and a transition period of 3 years was set. It was called the 4+1 deal, because Kabila would be president while there would be 4 vice presidents all taken from different parties.

The 3 year transition period led to an election in 2006, the first time democratic elections were held in Congo since 1960, the year of Congo's independence. Kabila beat Vice President Jean Pierre Bemba, wining a first term as president. He won a second term in 2011, beating long time opposition leader Etienne Tshisekedi, although there are some allegations that this election was not fair. His second term will come to an end 3 days from now on December 19th. The constitution says that a president can only have two terms, but nobody has been elected to take Kabila's place. Van Reybrouck's book can no longer help me. We have now come to the place where history is still being written.

A couple of months ago, there were some talks between Kabila and a few members of the opposition. They agreed that a presidential election will take place in 2018. Two of the most important opposition members, Etienne Tshisekedi and Moise Katumbi, were not a part of these talks. They are attempting to get the election pushed up to 2017, but as far as I've heard that hasn't happened. People speculate about what will happen in the next few days, but nobody really knows. The main opposition leader in the East, Vital Kamerhe, was a central part of the 2018 agreement, so there probably won't be too much trouble in my area. But like I said, nobody really knows. After many years of war, the Congolese people are definitely tired of violence. But really, who knows.      

Goma Again
I got to take another trip to Goma last weekend, along with a bunch of other MCCer's. We went to a displaced persons camp in Minova where Aaron works, to share a meal with the children in celebration of Aaron's birthday. I almost got arrested for not having my passport, but thankfully, my boss Serge is good at talking to authorities. Later that night, we ate rabbit at a restaurant in Goma.

At the peak of Mt. Nyiragongo, the largest lava lake in the world.

This is from the top of Mt. Nyiragongo. Goma and Lake Kivu are off in the distance, but hard to see. 

I had the chance to go to a soccer game in Goma. There were a lot of high kicks and bicycle kicks. Great game!

Me scooping out rice for the batoto's (children)

After eating with the children, we celebrated Aarons birthday by feeding him birthday cake

I'm about to go on Christmas vacation. I'm going to spend 10 days in Nairobi (Kenya), and also a few days in Kigali (Rwanda). I'm also going to spend a few days backpacking in Rwanda. It should be a pretty good couple of weeks. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone. 

Safari a Burhinyi

Hey folks, I know it’s been a while. Sorry about the wait. I guess I’ve been busy. I’ve been working a lot over the past few weeks in the Territory of Mwenga, so I’ve written a bit about my time there, and also a bit about the things I’ve been reading and thinking about lately.

Mwenga is one of 8 Territories in the Province of South Kivu. Our mission was to a smaller region in Mwenga called Burhinyi. Burhinyi is one of 5 Chefferies (Sectors). In Burhinyi, there are 18 different Groupements. We stayed in Burhinyi center, which is maybe a 2 hour drive from Bukavu. It’s a beautiful town, high up in the mountains, with temperatures normally between 40 and 80 degrees Fahrenheit (I’m just guessing). My co-workers occasionally complained about the cold but I really enjoyed it. It reminded me of home and it felt good to sleep with a blanket, something I rarely do in Bukavu. We stayed at an old missionary house that we rented from a local pastor (a middle aged man with glorious mutton chops).

We were here four months ago (April), for a mission during which we collected information about certain marginalized women in the community. We presented our findings to MCC, which graciously offered us a small budget to work with these women. Our plans to assist them included offering seminars on trauma healing (many of these women have been raped) and entrepreneurship, small micro finance loans to help them start profit generating projects, and a small amount of money to pay school fees for one of their children. After months of waiting, the money finally arrived and we left to begin our second mission in Burhinyi.     

Monday the 12th

I arrive at the office around 10 o’clock. Everybody is scurrying around the office getting ready for our mission to Mwenga. Our party includes Moise Mukinje Butumbushi (PPR’s head field agent), Clovis (PPR’s accountant), John (guy from my church who is going to give an entrepreneurship course), Emile (our driver), and me (24 year old white male, generally confused but enthusiastic). We leave the office around noon in the PPR vehicle. It’s a white Toyota Land Cruiser, which is what most NGO’s around here drive. We drive around town for about an hour collecting supplies for our trip. This includes 1 box of fish, 5 cases of bottled water, 5 bags of sliced bread, 1 container of fake butter spread, 2 cans of powdered milk, 2 bags of brown sugar, 5 cans of sardines, and 1 can of sour cream and onion Pringles. We also buy two big boxes of notebooks and a couple boxes of pens, which we will give to the women for their children to use at school. We finally leave for Burhinyi. It seems like the roads are better than they were a few months ago, but it is still a very bouncy ride (I think the roads are better because the last few months have been the dry season. Less rain means less damage to the dirt roads). Everyone is speaking Swahili and laughing. I understand a little bit but not much. I occasionally ask what a word means.

We arrive in Burhinyi around 4. Clovis negotiates with the local pastor over the price of our stay at the missionary house. The missionary house has 5 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. The water is good (pretty much works all the time with good pressure, this is much better than my apartment in Bukavu) but there is no electricity. Moise sends a local boy to fill a bottle with kerosene for the lamp.

Around 7, we walk up the hill to Grants house. Grant is one 3 doctors that work at the local hospital. We eat fish, fufu, and plantains prepared by a local woman. There is also a sort of curry sauce made with oil and tomatoes (very tasty). After dinner, we watch soccer on Grants TV (he has Canal plus which is a satellite TV service in Congo). There is no central electricity in Burhinyi, but Grant has a solar panel connected to a couple of batteries. There are a lot of cloudy days here, so he also sometimes charges the batteries with the generator at the hospital. These batteries are enough to power his lights and the TV for a couple hours, but he doesn’t have a refrigerator. This is pretty normal for Congolese. Most people in Bukavu also don’t have refrigerators (my fellow Muzungus and I were surprised to discover when we first arrived that most Congolese found the idea of leftovers very strange).

Tuesday the 13^th

I wake up around 7:30 and take a cold shower. Around 8, we walk up to the doctor’s house where we eat breakfast, which consists of tea and coffee with sliced bread and Blue Band (fake butter spread). Around 9, we all pile into the Land Cruiser and drive up to the center of town. Our plan today is to meet with various local leaders to explain our plans and get their approval. We met with many of these people when we came in April. First, we go to the office of the Mwami. He is the one in charge of Burhinyi. He spends most of his time in Bukavu and Kinshasa, so he is not around. We meet with his secretary who signs our paper and gives us a stamp of approval. She says she was worried that we weren’t coming back, as it has been a while. Next we go to the ANR office. ANR is the national intelligence service, kind of like the Congolese CIA. I’ve met the guy who works here a number of times, first here and later in Bukavu. It seems like him and Moise have a good relationship. He also signs our paper and gives his stamp of approval. Next we meet with the police chiefs. One of them has a nice mustache but doesn’t speak French. They speak Swahili so I don’t understand much. I speak what little Swahili I can muster, which makes them all laugh. We also visit the Chef de Groupment and the Chef de Post. They also sign and stamp our paper.

It’s now mid-afternoon. We return to the missionary house where we rest a bit. Then we walk up to the doctors and eat lunch, more fish and fufu with lenga lenga (boiled greens) and plantain bananas. We rest a bit more and then leave for Lwinja which is about an hour’s drive. In Lwinja, we meet with the chief in charge of the FARDC (Congolese Military) in Lwinja and Burhinyi. They have a long and seemingly interesting conversation in Swahili, most of which I don’t understand, and then he signs and stamps our paper. Moise and Clovis give me a summary on our drive home. He approves of our plans and will tell his units not to bother us. After returning home, we head up to Grants for dinner, the last of the fish with beans and rice. We talk for a bit and then to go bed.      

Wednesday the 14^th

I wake up at 6:30 and take a cold shower. We need to leave early today because it’s a long drive to the place that we’re meeting the women, about an hour and a half. After a quick breakfast (coffee and bread) we leave for Kahrala. The roads are bumpy and full of rocks but the scenery is beautiful. Moise and Clovis point out a hill along the way, where some of the locals dig looking for gold. We arrive around 9:30. We meet with some local leaders, then enter a church where there are about 15 women sitting. Moise tells me that some of these women walked 3 hours to get here. I want to talk to them but my Swahili is not very good and I’m nervous that they will ask me for money. Clovis introduces all of us and begins to explain our project. There are a lot of kids outside running around making noise. It sounds like recess. Some of the kids have gathered around the door and are looking at me whispering and laughing.

Moise and John begin calling the women up one by one, asking them questions and filling out a form on each of them. I approach the crowd and try what little Swahili I can muster. They all laugh at me. I also talk to the local chiefs who speak French. After they finish registering everyone, we have a snack of bread and malti’s (apple flavored soda). Clovis talks a bit more about the program, and Moise announces that we will return on Friday to register those who could not be there today. We pile back in the Land Cruiser and drive back to Buhrinyi. Clovis and Emile head back to Bukavu leaving Moise, John, and I in Burhinyi. Later that night, we go to Grant’s house for dinner (steak and intestines in curry sauce, with fufu and lenga lenga). After dinner Grant and I watch NCISLA (in french). Grant tells me that he really likes American shows because there is a lot of action. After NCIS is over, we watch Brooklyn 99.    

Thursday the 15^th

I wake up around 7:30. We don’t have a lot to do today, but Moise says the Mwami is back in town and we need to meet with him. After breakfast, we walk up to the middle of town which is about 10 minutes from our place. We sit around in the main office waiting for the Mwami, who is across the road talking with some people. He’s wearing some type of traditional outfit, complete with a Leopard Fur hat (the trademark of Mobutu) and a cane (he has no trouble walking so I’m guessing it’s a status symbol). The people who work in the office tell us that we need to stand up when the Mwami enters the room. He finally enters the office and we stand up. He doesn’t pay much attention to us, walking into another area. We sit back down. He enters our room again and I stand back up. He leaves again. John laughs at me. I guess we only had to stand up the first time. Someone informs us that the Mwami is going to walk back to his house and that Moise can walk with him and present our project.

We walk with him and Moise presents our project. He doesn’t pay much attention to me, which is refreshing (I’m so used to everyone staring at me) but also intimidating. It’s clear that this man has considerable influence. After Moise finishes talking we leave and start heading back toward our place. We run into the police chief with the nice mustache. I speak a little Swahili and he laughs. Someone comes up and says that the Mwami wants to see us again. We start heading back in his direction.

Things feel a bit tense now. I try not to admit it to myself, but I’m a bit nervous now. I ask John what he thinks is about to happen (cet va passé comment?). He says he doesn’t know. The Mwami starts laying into Moise (in perfect French). Moise stands his ground. The dispute is centered on a person named Lucien who is in charge of development work, that we somehow failed to consult. After some back and forth, Moise agrees that we will take Lucien with us when we meet with the women.

We return to the house and relax for the rest of the day. I’m in the middle of a book called In the Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz, written by Michela Wrong. The book covers the rise and fall of Mobutu Sese Seko Kuku Ngbendu Wa Za Banga (formerly known as Joseph Desire Mobutu). The chapter I read today is called “A Nation on Low Battery.” The chapter starts out like this:

“By the mid-1980’s, Zaire’s Belgian-installed telephone network had disintegrated to a point where communication – both internal and international- were becoming impossible. It was then that a young American who had recently lost his job at an airline office came up with the bright idea of issuing Kinshasa’s movers and shakers with Motorola radio sets which allowed them to keep in touch with each other within the city limits.

Not long afterwards a private cellular telephone system was set up and the Motorolas were replaced by chunky mobile phones. And so Telecel was born, an example of how a collapsing state structure could be sidestepped or simply substituted when the needs of the elite became acute. Road-non-existent? Buy a four-wheel drive. National television on the blink? Install a satellite dish in your back garden and tune in to CNN. Phone out of order? Hire a Telecel. As Zaire crumbled, one community, at least, could afford to buy its way out of anarchy.” (pg 129)

These Telecel phones apparently had a battery that didn’t work very well. When the power was almost gone, the phone would beep and say “low battery”. The phrase took on a symbolic meaning for a country that was just barely hanging on. Just barely hanging on is still a pretty good phrase to describe life in the Congo. 

Friday the 16^th

Today we return to the church in Kahrala to register more women. The Land Cruiser is in Bukavu so we take Motos. Lucian comes with us on his own moto. The hour and a half ride is once again very bumpy. We arrive at the same church and register more women bringing our number up to 28 (we have enough funding to work with 30). After the women leave, I wander around the area a bit. All the children who are on recess stare and laugh at me. I run into a member of the FARDC (Congolese Military) who I’ve talked with a few times. He asks me for money, but I pretend not to understand. I find Moise and we call the motos to come pick us up. While we wait, we check out the local health center. They ask Moise for money and he lectures them on the importance of mosquito nets. Finally, we head back to town.

Back in Burhinyi, we sit at a local shop and drink orange fanta. John and I talk to the shop owner, who tells me he has been married for exactly one month. He also tells me that he went to college in Bukavu. After a while, he shows me his house behind the shop. It’s small but nice. He has a solar panel on his roof and a small TV in the corner. There are a bunch of small kids running around. He says they are his nephews. While I’m doing all this, Moise is talking to Sida who works with the local civil society. We also run into the ANR (Congolese FBI) man, who calls me pastor. I’m not sure how the information man became so misinformed.

Saturday the 17^th

We spend most of the day relaxing. I read a few more chapters of Mr Kurtz. One chapter is about Mobutu’s relationship with Western donors. From 1975 to 1984, Zaire received an average of $331 million in foreign aid per year. Between 1985 and 1994 this number went up to $540 million. Certainly these donors were aware of the corruption and economic failures that plagued the Congo, so why did they keep donating? Why give so much money to a man who drinks pink champagne in one of his 30 mansions while most his country lives on next to nothing? The obvious answer is the cold war. Mobutu was put in power because he supported capitalist policies, and keeping him in control was an easy way for western governments to maintain control over a large chunk of Sub-Saharan Africa.

The less obvious answer is to maintain stability. For all of his horribleness, Mobutu did keep the country together. In a country with 495 different tribes, and countless foreign governments and companies trying to gain control, keeping everything together was not an easy feat. In the early years, it even looked like there was some possibility that Mobutu might be good for the Congo. By the 1980’s it was clear that this was not the case, but what would arise if foreign donors stopped supporting Mobutu. We got an answer to that question when the aid stopped in the 1990’s and that answer was multiple wars, and a massive humanitarian crisis. One could argue that it’s a band aid that eventually had to get ripped off, but a lot of people died when Mobutu fell. It's possible this all could have been avoided if different choices were made, but hindsight is always 20/20. 

I think about these things while I hide in our house. Occasionally, I go outside and sit on our porch, but this usually attracts a lot of attention pretty quickly. The whole muzungu thing you get in Bukavu is multiplied by 10 here in the countryside. The people are harmless, but I just get tired of the staring and laughing after a while. One kid comes up and talks to me for a while. He seems like a nice kid. He says that hes in high school and works at his dads farm. After a while, he asks me to give him a cell phone. I think about the $540 million dollars a year that my country used to throw at Mobutu. I tell him I can’t give him a phone and ask him why he can’t buy one with the money from the farm job. He says that he only gets paid in food and lodging. It’s not surprising. I imagine that whatever they grow out here doesn’t sell for much.  

Sunday the 18^th

In the morning, John and I go to a local church. It’s all in Swahili so I don’t understand much, but the music is nice. They have multiple offerings, which I find strange, but everyone is nice and doesn’t stare at me too much. On my way out, I run into the guy who owns the shop downtown. He smiles and says hi. We eat chicken and rice for lunch at Grants house. After that I watch a Nollywood movie on his TV about a man and woman who want to have a big wedding but can’t afford it.       

Around 5 in the evening, Emile returns with the Land Cruiser and a new addition to our team, Reverand Moise Tambwe. Moise Tambwe is the one who will lead the trauma healing session we have planned for tomorrow. He’s the person who trained me when I first started working with PPR. He asked me all kinds of questions about America, like whether there is a limit on how many kids one can have (he has 9). He also told me that he thinks there is going to be a world war between Muslims and Christians. I’m not exactly sure why, but I really like him so I’m happy when he arrives. We have a meeting, during which Moise Mukinje recounts to Moise Tambwe every detail of our six days here. It takes him like half an hour. I’m amazed at his ability to remember details and weave them together (talking for a long time and using elegant language is a talent many Congolese have).  

Monday the 19^th

We wake up early and leave for Itudu, which is two bumpy hours away. We arrive around 9:30, at the church where we will hold the seminar. We go inside and wait as the women slowly show up. I talk with  Moise Tambwe who is anxious to get started. I think about everything that it took for us to get to this point. The first mission, followed by months of waiting for funding. The last week, and all the time spent talking with local leaders. I think about the 3 hours the women have walked to get here. I wonder what Moise Tambwe will say and whether it will be worth it.

When we finally get started, Moise Tambwe is speaking in Swahili so I don’t understand much. He motions to John, who starts reading a story in Swahili out of a book on trauma healing and the church. I realize that a French copy of the same book is sitting on the table and start following along. The story is about a pastor in Uganda who serves God faithfully for many years, but finds himself losing faith after his village is viciously attacked by rebels. Moise Tambwe starts talking again and I don’t understand most of it, but I pick out bits and pieces. At one point he says mungu ku penda, mungu ku sikia, mungu ku helewa (God loves you, God hears you, God understand you).

John starts reading another story, this time about a woman whose village is attacked by rebels. During the attack, the woman is raped by a couple of soldiers. She eventually escapes when they are called away to help with something. She hides with some of her friends, but doesn’t tell them about what happened. Eventually, the rebels are forced out and life goes back toward normal, but she feels ostracized within the community. Her husband knows that what happened wasn’t her fault, but still refuses to lie with her. After a couple of months go by, the woman finds out that she is pregnant.  

One of the women stands up, and starts speaking Swahili. I lean over to Lucien (the guy the Mwami sent with us) and he translates for me. She says that she relates to this story, because she also feels ostracized. Another woman stands up and talks about how her children are ostracized in school, because they are the children of rebels. More women talk about their difficulties. There are other community leaders there who respond. I realize that we are crossing social barriers here. I don’t understand some of what is said, but I have the feeling that there is important communication going on here.

Later that night, at the doctor’s house, we watch the National Congolese News channel. There were protests in Kinshasa today and at least 20 civilians died. Moise tells me that 3 cops were burned alive. We watch images on the TV of gas stations and stores that were pillaged. I hear the next day that a number of schools were destroyed. I’m dismayed because this senseless violence doesn’t seem to be helping the oppositions cause. You can read more about this whole thing here.

   

Tuesday the 20^th

Today is the last day of our mission. We return to the church where we met the day before, but there are some people using it. We drive down the road and then walk 5 minutes through the woods, before we arrive at another church. The women slowly pile in again and we start the second day of seminars. Moise Tambwe talks for a little bit and then John does some more business training. I take pictures and try to understand what they’re saying. After we finish, we hand out certificates for their completion (it seems a bit excessive to me, because the training only consisted of John talking to them for a few hours. It kind of feels like when kids get participation trophies. Who knows? Maybe it will be good for their self-esteem). I shake their hands and smile at the camera. We take a few more group photos and then finally head back to Bukavu.

I get home around 5pm (it turns out that in Swahili, this would be 11, because the day starts at 6am when the sun rises). My wonderful roommate Sharon made me chicken curry and rice. I eat it, and then collapse in my bed. As my Congolese host father likes to say, there’s no place like home.

Wednesday the 21^st - Tuesday the 27^th

Back in Bukavu, I do all the things that I normally do. I sleep and watch TV, I finish In the footsteps of Mr. Kurtz, I write reports about the trip, I translate emails from French to English, I write stuff that eventually ends up in this post, and I take Swahili lessons. We also have several more meetings where both the Moise’s again display their amazing ability to recount our entire mission step by step from memory. There are also a couple of earthquakes on Friday night. For the first one, I’m in an internet café. The building starts to shake and everyone scrambles for the door, but by the time I’m out of my seat, it’s over. The second happens an hour later while I’m walking home. I barely feel it, but I see the large cement wall next to me move more than a wall should move. I get home to find my roommate cleaning up the broken glass on our kitchen floor. There are a few more light tremors throughout the evening, but no more broken glass. The next day, Clovis tells me that Bukavu is a tectonic hotspot and this happens sometimes.

Wednesday the 28^th

Today we begin our third mission to Burhinyi. The team includes me, Moise Mukinje, Moise Tambwe, Clovis, and Emile. We take many of the same things as the last time (bread, milk powder, water, but no fish this time). Upon arrival, we make the rounds with all the local leaders one more time. This time the Mwami’s representative tells us that she is sending a different person along (Lucien doesn’t come with us this time). The FARDC commander tells us that there were some rumors about the work we were doing, and his boss called him with concerns. This is related to some of the women we are working with, who may be connected to certain rebel groups. The FARDC commander tells us that it’s good that we kept him informed about our work, because otherwise we might have been arrested. This is one example of why they people I work with are very smart to keep such strong connections with local leaders.

We go to Grants house again for dinner that night. We eat chicken, rice, and cabbage (I don’t know what they put in this cabbage but it was so good, I never knew cabbage could be so good). After dinner we watch a movie about a group of students who rebelled against the Nazi’s during World War II. Grant says something along the line of “white people do this stuff too” referring to the two World Wars.

Thursday the 29^th

I wake up at 6:30 and take a cold shower. After some bread with avocado and coffee, we pile into the Land Cruiser for the two hour drive to Itudu. Today we have organized a meeting with local leaders, to discuss the difficulties and marginalization of the women we work with. We have a long meeting, led by Reverend Moise Tambwe. I understand a little more Swahili then I did a week ago, but still not much. The meeting seems to be productive and at the end, all the local leaders sign an agreement to work with us and help these marginalized women.

Close to the end of the meeting, the FARDC man who is always wearing a Denver Broncos shirt shows up. Today he’s wearing a Del Taco shirt. I point as his shirt and ask him if he likes tacos in broken Swahili. He obviously has no idea what I’m talking about. This is basically a repeat of the first time I met him and pointed at his Denver Broncos shirt. The locals must think I’m very strange.  

Later that night, we return to Grants house, where we eat more chicken and rice, and delicious cabbage. After dinner, we watch a French news program. They report about the Congolese Dialogue (things are not going especially well) and also say something about Obama vetoing some bill. Grant tells me it's about Americans suing the country where Osama Bin Laden came from. After I finally figure out that he’s talking about Saudi Arabia, we argue about whether Osama Bin Laden came from Afghanistan or Saudi Arabia (it turns out that Grant was correct). Then we talk about Hillary and Trump. I’ve told Grant before that I’ll probably vote for Hillary. He says he doesn’t think a woman can be president of the United States, but we both agree that Trump is a disaster.  

Friday the 30^th

I wake up at 6:30 again. We have bread and coffee (no avocado today) and once again make the 2 hour drive to Itudu. Before going to the church to meet with the women, we stop at the local elementary school, where we work out a deal to pay the school fees for some of the women’s children. We also distribute notebooks. Moise Mukinje and Clovis think it is not smart to just give notebooks to the women’s children (because this might make them more ostracized) so we give them to everyone. The kids are cute and seem nervous to talk to me (a big change from the kids outside who come running to say good morning to me at any chance they get).

After this stop, we go to the church where we meet with the women. Moise Tambwe says a bunch of stuff I don’t understand and they start handing out money for transportation. In this middle of this, Clovis and I leave to go to another school to pay more school fees and distribute more notebooks. The principal gives me a tour of the school, which has kids from grades 1-6. He tells me that the fee for each child is about $1.50 per month, so it’s difficult for them to meet costs. He shows me a hole in the wall that was caused by the recent earthquake. I wonder if they left this hole there on purpose to show white people that they need money. Most of the walls are brick, and it seems like the locals could fix them without too much trouble, but I have no doubt they could use the money. I’m always hesitant to pull out my wallet, because if I give to one person I feel like I have to give to everyone. It’s hard to know how to help sometimes.

After we finish everything up there, we drive back to the church, finish up with the women, and drive back to Bukavu. I go home and Sharon makes me chicken curry again (and it’s delicious). After that, I sleep for a long time.        

Saturday the 1^st to Present

A friend tags me in a Facebook post about a Washington Post article. It’s something about mining in the Congo. I don’t look at it because I’m in the middle of obsessively reading this article about Elon Musk and Tesla. It’s a little bit old so you might have seen it already, but if not it’s worth the couple of hours it takes to read it. It tells the history of energy, summarizes the global energy crisis, and then talks about how Tesla is working on building electric cars that will make gas powered vehicles obsolete. This would be a major step forward in solving issues related to carbon pollution and global warming. Perhaps just as revolutionary is the battery that Tesla cars use. It’s called a lithium-ion battery and it’s basically the same thing that they put in smart phones and laptops, except much bigger. This is important because the sun is theoretically an infinite energy source if we could find a way to store it long term.

I think about global warming and energy a lot in the Congo. Most days, when I come home from work, my power isn’t on. It usually come back on around 6:30 or 7, which I’m very thankful for, because most people in the Congo have very little access to electrical power at all (remember what I said about the doctor, most people in the Congo don’t have refrigerators. When I stayed with a friend a few months ago, he woke up in the middle of the night to iron his clothes because that is the only time the power was on). A lot of problems in Congo could probably be solved if they had better infrastructure. This mostly means better roads and better electricity. But what impact would this have on the environment? Most of Bukavu’s power currently comes from hydroelectricity, which means it’s clean. The world should be thankful that Africa has taken so long to develop. If Congolese people lived like Americans, carbon pollution would surely be much worse. This is why the Tesla battery is so important. The Tesla battery makes clean energy more accessible for the Congo and the rest of the world, and that’s a big deal.

I finally make it back to the Washington Post article, and realize that I’ve made a huge mistake in passing it over. The article is called “The Cobalt Pipeline.” I know what the article is going to say before I even read it. The DRC produces 60 percent of the worlds Cobalt, and Tesla needs this cobalt for their batteries. Tesla is building a giant battery factor in Nevada to mass produce the large lithium ion batteries it needs for its cars. While a smart phone battery needs about 10 grams of refined cobalt, a car battery takes up to 15,000 grams. Cobalt demand has tripled in the past 5 years, and is expected to at least double again by 2020. If Tesla accomplishes its goal of changing the car market and making electric cars the standard, I think it might do more than double. 100 years ago, most of the rubber needed for rubber tires came from Congo. Now it seems that Congo again has a resource vital for changing the world.

The Washington Post article describes two different ways that Cobalt gets mined in the Congo. The first way is the normal way, industrially by people with salaries who wear safety gear. The second way it basically freelance. Poor Congolese, without hardhats or shoes dig holes with shoves or their bare hands. They search for certain flowers that happen to grow around the minerals they’re looking for. They sell whatever they find to Chinese middlemen, who eventually sell the cobalt to the many companies desperately looking for this product. As a reader, you’re probably asking an obvious question right now, why don’t they just mine all the Cobalt industrially? Why bother with the freelance nonsense? (if you read the article, you will see that these people’s lives are a few steps beyond difficult)

The answer is not entirely spelled out in the article but it seems pretty clear to me. The many Silicon Valley companies that need this cobalt are trying to keep the prices of their products down. This goes double for Tesla. Tesla’s entire mission rests on its ability to produce an affordable electric car, which they hope to release in 2017. They can keep prices down by buying cheap freelancer Cobalt, because they don’t have to pay for things like safety equipment, healthcare, and fair salaries. The other challenge is that there is not a lot of motivation to invest in a place like Congo, because of the lack of political stability. For mining companies that do create industrialized mines, there is very little assurance that their investments will be protected. So the answer is that freelance Cobalt is easy and cheap for buyers, in a country that is politically complicated and potentially very expensive. This doesn’t work out so well for the Congolese who actually do the mining (you should probably just read the article).

So anyway, that's what my interesting and exhausting life here in Congo has been like for the past few weeks. Here's a bunch of pictures of me and other people in Mwenga. I hope everyone is well. 

Riding Motos 

Moise offers to hold my hand

I accept

Moise and the Mountains

Sometimes it was foggy in Burhinyi

And then the fog moved on

Me and Emile in front of the Land Cruiser

Everyone after the Seminar

John gives a certificate of achievement

Clovis is demonstrating something important

Me and the ladies

Some kids playing outside the church

Reverend Moise Tambwe on the left and Moise Mukinje on the right

The church where we held meetings on the first day

Raia Mutomboki and my new apartment

“It’s either a church or a nightclub,” my roommate says as we sit in our living room. She’s talking about the booming music we hear, coming from somewhere across the lake. I recently moved into a new apartment with a gorgeous view of the lake. Sound seems to pass easily across the water, so on Friday nights I have the pleasure of listening to everyone’s business. From my porch, I hear a couple of what I assume to be Congolese men, singing as they float in kayaks on the water. When I first arrived in Congo, I also lived on the lake, and heard the sounds of the night. Music often came from one particularly loud place throughout all hours of the night, interspersed with silence and collectives groans at what I assume was the power going out. My roommate Moise said it was a church having an all night worship session. I’ve yet to attend an all night worship service, but it sounds like they’re quite riveting.

Although I do occasionally miss my host family, I’ve been enjoying the new sense of self-autonomy that came with moving into my new apartment (autonomy mostly consists of me eating large cheeseburgers, then collapsing on the couch while my roommate laughs at me). I’ve had a little more time to socialize with the international community. Last week, I met an Italian woman who has been working in the Congo for five years, and currently works for a peacebuilding organization called International Alert. She told me that her work often feels futile (a feeling that I can very much relate to), but also that she feels like her organization has made some difference on a local level. She also told me about the complicated community dialogue process her organization uses called Participatory Action Research (PAR). The basic theory behind this process is that conflict needs to be addressed on a local level, and  needs to include community members as participants. There have been many critiques in recent years that the national peace process that occurred from 2004-2006 failed to address local conflict, particularly in the Eastern Congo. Many local conflicts over land rights and ethnic issues have persisted. This is why various NGOs are now working at peacebuilding on a local level. You can find an interesting report that International Alert released about PAR in the Eastern Congo here.

Because there’s not much going on at work right now, I spend a lot of my time reading reports. In the past few weeks, I’ve been particularly interested in the Usalama project, a series of reports on the various armed groups in the Congo. I’m currently reading one on a group called Raia Mutomboki, which means outraged citizens. There are many different versions of Raia Mutomboki, such as Raia Mutomboki Akilo, Raia Mutomboki Mirage, and Raia Mutomboki Elenge. The report describes it as a franchise. A series of loosly connected groups, with no real central leaderships. The groups originally began in a few places in 2005, created to provide defense against foreign armed groups like the FDLR. After a series of massacres which the national military failed to respond to, a Kimbanguist minister named Jean Musumbu rallied local youths to create a self defense force. Musumbu had no military experience, but did provide religious rituals and amulets meant to make the wearer impervious to bullets. The franchise remained small in the early days, largely disappearing after 2007. Unfortunately, the complicated military/political/international community system of governance again failed to protect citizens from horrific attacks in 2011. This led to a larger resurgence of Raia Mutomboki in 2011.

Outraged citizens is a pretty good name, because the things these people live through are without question horrific. One passage from the report reads,

“The FDLR killed 36 people in Nduma, they buried people alive, they made them eat cassiterite [a tin oxide mineral], or tied them to the trees and beat them to death. Three of these miners survived and came to tell us about the massacre. But when we went to tell the Congolese army, they arrested us! They made us pay a fine of $100 to set us free!

It was this FARDC (National Congolese Army) behaviour in response to the Nduma massacre that provoked local outrage. This outrage was most vividly expressed after a visit by the South Kivu governor, Marcellin Cisambo, to Shabunda centre in July 2011, in response to the security problems there. Replying to a question in a town hall meeting about the withdrawal of Congolese troops, he reportedly said: ‘Liberate yourselves!’ This event is now widely recounted to justify the emergence of the Raia Mutomboki.”

After reading a story like this, it’s easy to understand why these groups are motivated to take up arms. One could even call them heroes. They succeeded in what the central government has failed to do for the past 20 years, drive the FDLR out of areas. Unfortunately, the line between hero and not so heroic can be easily crossed. A former FDLR commander who surrendered said that he fears the Raia Mutomboki much more than the Congolese army “as the former targeted their women and children.” There have been various accounts of abuses against the very people that the groups have sworn to protect, There have also been times where the Raia Mutomboki has fought against the Congolese governments forces. These types of clashes probably don't improve the security of civilians. People I've met usually refer to them as bandits rather than heroes. So it seems that what started out as a heroic self defense group has just turned into another problem.

Patrick sometimes comes by my office to work when the electricity is out at his office (the electricity is also out at my office regularly). He asked me if my phone had a camera and before I knew it we were having a photo shoot. 

My new apartment has a really awesome view.

I recently borrowed my friends bike, and took a few good rides around the city. The beautiful view totally makes up for all the little kids making kissy noises at me. It's also kind of fun because the roads are so bad, it's almost like mountain biking. I don't know who that guy is but he really wanted to be in the picture. 

   

Anyway, everything is going well here. I'm looking forward to going to Rwanda next week for a Seed retreat. I hope that everyone reading this is doing well. Bye bye for now.

L'homme blanc

Dieu me donne un homme blanc. This is my favorite phrase that I've heard recently. God has given me a white man. I was talking to one of my co-workers about buying a radio. I said that he could probably get it for cheaper than I did, pointing to my white skin (I'm white so I have to pay more sometimes). He said that this is what store owners think when I walk into their shops. God has given me a white man.

                              

Being a white man in the Congo defiantly gives the feeling of privilege. People of all ages get excited when they see me. There's a little girl on my walk home who points and shouts Muzungu every time she sees me. I'm always amazed by the tone of her voice. She's just so excited about my whiteness. A couple weeks ago, I was sitting in my living room when a young woman walked in. Startled by my presence she said to my host mom, "there's a Muzungu in here" with the same energy as the little girl. She talked to my host brothers about me, but did not address me. Finally she worked up the nerve to address me directly. "Are you married? Do you want to marry my sister?"   

People often get excited when I tell them I'm from America. Some tell me they want to go to America very badly. Their eyes light up when they talk about it, like it's a dream world. Others who have been there before seem to have a better understanding. It’s a nice place, but not a dream world. Americans are still humans.

People imagine all sorts of things about America. A man that I work with, a pastor maybe in his 50’s, recently asked me, “Jacob, people are really rich in America right. Is there a limit on how many kids you can have?” Congolese like to have lots of kids. The aforementioned pastor has 9. I guess he thought, Americans are rich so they can have as many kids as they want. It never occurred to him that Americans wouldn't want to have 9 kids. I felt similar another day, when a close friend asked me if I could help him sell gold to someone in the US. It was to me such a ridiculous question, but they were very serious. I laughed and responded, "probably not." They asked, "but definitely though, are you sure?" I guess they thought I might be able to get them a good price. 

Of course it's natural for people to imagine things they don't understand, and for those images to be sometimes completely wrong. I imagined many things about Africa before I arrived here 4 months ago. Some of those things were right, but a lot was wrong as well. I recently spoke with a young Rwandan who has been to the US before. He told me that most Americans know very little about Africa, asking him questions like “do you speak African?” In a world so big, ignorance seems to be the natural human state.

On another note, I want to add an interesting update about the conversations with my french teacher, and the notion that Congolese president Joseph Kabila is a Tutsi. I mentioned to my teacher that I was confused, because Congolese tent to fixate on this Tutsi thing instead of focusing on the failures of Kabila as a president. My thinking is that his ethnicity does not matter. His actions are the important thing to me. My teacher responded that the reason Congolese call him a Tutsi is because their lives have not gotten better. He said that people didn't say these things about Kabila in previous years when he was more popular. It was interesting for me to realize that were both really on the same page, but just using different language.

So anyway, the past few weeks have been routine but good. I’ll be moving into a new apartment soon, which I’m looking forward too. We’re still having some funding problems at my work, so not much has been going on there, but I think we’re getting close to having some funding and starting some projects soon. I’m still taking French lessons and my understanding is slowly but consistently improving. I’m also picking up a bit of Swahili from my host family, the guards outside our house, and other random people. So that’s all good. Here are some random pictures from the past few weeks.               

My parents take their goats out to eat the grass on the side of the road.

From the side of the road to the dinner table. Goat intestines are not my favorite, but someones gotta eat em.

Tiny fried fish are great. They're nice and crunchy. You just eat the whole thing.

My host dad is doing some construction in our backyard.

I finally got my establishment visa. Not like a resident but probably as close as I'll get.

Nyawera, a local market, busy on a Friday night.

That’s all for now. If anyone wants to buy some gold, hit me up. 

Le mois de juin

Cher tout le monde,

Apologies for my extreme lack of posting. My post rate seems to be at one per month right now. I’ll try to get that number up in the future. I recently purchased a computer so the updates should be a bit more frequent from now on. 

The last month has been fairly routine for me. I haven't taken any recent trips for work, because we are having some funding problems. In the mornings I go to the office of the NGO I work with PPR, where I work on french and various other things with some of my colleagues. Around 1 or 2, I leave the office and buy lunch which I to take the MCC office. I used to eat lunch at the PPR office, but I don't do that anymore because nobody else there eats lunch and I don't want to be the only one eating. I think most Congolese eat in the morning, in the afternoon around 4 or 5 when they return from work, and then maybe a third time between 7 and 10 and night. It's also generally seen as very poor manners to eat alone or in public. One of my Congolese friends once told me, I don't want to eat alone like a wizard. People find it very strange if they see me eating something while I walk to work. Food is something that is supposed to be shared.

After lunch I sit around the office napping or listening to the radio until 3 (or 15 as they say here, I'm not sure why but they use military time). From 3 to 4 I have a French lesson with my teacher Oscar. We often talk about Congolese history and politics. This week he showed me video that accuses Congolese President Joseph Kabila of being a Tutsi and not the real son of Laurant Kabila. Laurant Kabila was president of the Congo from 1997 to 2001. He was assassinated under suspicious circumstances. The assassin killed himself leaving his motive and potential accomplices unknown. Joseph Kabila, Laurant's son quickly consolidated power, and has managed to say in control of the Congo since then. For those who don't know what Tutsi means, it's a complicated ethnic identity that many Congolese see the way that some Americans might view Muslims. Google it if you want to know more. I'm fairly sure that the whole thing is simple a rumor. It reminds me of the rumor in the United States that Obama is a Muslim. I think the emotions behind the accusation, particularly the idea that Kabila is an outsider who isn't particularly concerned with the well being of him country and fairly valid. I just don't think the facts add up.

After work I go home. Two of my parents sons came home from school a few weeks ago. The older one, named Deni goes to college in Nairobi, the capital of Kenya, where he is studying to become an architect. The younger one, David, goes to a high school a few hours from Bukavu. They are both home for the summer. I'm happy to have them around because it takes some of the paternal pressure off me (my Congolese host parents are very paternal). They also both speak English and are generally enjoyable to be around. My weekends are filled with various activities. I went to a wedding last weekend and will maybe go to another this weekend. I've also been playing bass at my church, where we had a concert a few weeks ago.

I recently got the chance to do some hiking with friends in Kahuzi-Biega national park. We were planning to do a fairly long hike to the top of a peak called Mount Kahuzi. Unfortunately, there was a patrol being done that day (people scouting for armed groups). This was disappointing, but we still got to do a shorter hike to see a couple of waterfalls. Even on this hike, we had to be accompanied by two armed guards (because there are armed groups in the forests). This probably sounds intense but I never felt insecure during the hike. I think it’s pretty uncommon for them to have any trouble, but I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unfortunate that the area cannot be more secure because it’s really beautiful.   

Serge, me, Mark, Ben, and Safari at the first waterfall. My pants are a bit wet from the mist.

Mark preparing to leave the second waterfall.

We were accompanied by a couple of armed guards during our hike, a necessary precaution because of the armed groups that live in the forests. 

This is a peninsula in Bukavu called the boot. There are a number of good store in the area. I've heard rumors of a place with a tennis court but I've never actually seen it. 

This is a picture of the papaya tree that grows in my host parents back yard. I've been told that someone who works for them climbs the tree to get the papayas, but I'm not sure how he does it. They also have a couple of orange trees (the oranges are actually green) and a plantain tree. As far as I can tell, the trees produce fruit pretty much year round. 

This is one of the guy who works for my host parents rounding up the goats and bringing them back into the compound. He takes them out into the street everyday so they can eat the grass on the side of the road. They live in a pen behind my room (I can see them from my bathroom window). They occasionally make noise but not as much as the chickens that crow in the early hours of the morning. I usually sleep through it anyway. 

Last Thursday, June 30th was Congolese independence day. This is the day that Congo gained it's independence from the Belgians and became the Republic of the Congo. This unfortunately plunged the country into a civil war influence by both cold war powers (the US and Russia) eventually leading to the rise of Mobutu and his 30 year dictatorship of what became known as Zaire. No matter how you view the countries independence, it's still a very important day in Congolese history. This song was written prior to the vote for independence and became one of the first pan african hits. It's also one of the first examples of Congolese Rumba. It's also a good song to play at your American independence day party. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0y6BjNJD0ZM