Gimme Gimme

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Let’s face it, the Congolese are sorta known for a few unfortunate stereotypes. Petty theft, grand theft, corruption of all sorts and sizes. It wasn’t for nothing that the term “kleptocracy” was invented (or at least seriously enhanced) here. It’s not true of everybody, of course; generalizations are just that: generalized. There are tons of positive things to write about, and I often do. But I have another side of the story to tell, a story I’ve held back long enough out of respect for the many wonderful people we’ve met. Today, I wanna get down to the nitty gritty. Let’s get stereotypical.

I’m talking about a relatively harmless but highly annoying habit that many of our friends here possess. I shall call it Gimmeism, or the disease of the hand which is unable to rest in any position other than straight out, palm up. For today, I shall speak only of a few stories that have happened here on our own turf, base camp. I have many more beyond these iron gates to share in due time.

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Failure to Thrive

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When you’re slidin’ into first, and you’re feelin’ something burst: diarrhea, diarrhea…

My brother and I got a lot of mileage out of this little diddy from the movie Parenthood when we were younger. We could sing it over and over again and make each other laugh every time. I wonder now if we even knew what real diarrhea was.

That song has come to mind many times since we’ve moved here and have had to come to terms with this unpleasant part of living in sub-Saharan Africa. It’s become such a ubiquitous part of life that us expat wives talk openly about it. Each day we catch up on gossip, recipes, vacation stories… and how things are going in the bathroom.

I’ve totally forgotten that this is a taboo subject back home. I should probably be carefully monitored at cocktail parties when we move back. But here, talking openly about “our plumbing,” as a friend calls it, is nearly as common as the weather or the newest restaurants nearby. (Which, often, are tied closely together.)

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Doorbells and Sleigh Bells and Schnitzel with Noodles

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We started studying The Sound of Music back in January, and we’ve only just now reached My Favorite Things, not even an hour into the movie. Which turned out to be a real challenge to teach. Maria makes several references to winter activities—warm woolen mittens, snowflakes, silver-white winters that melt into springs—that just don’t make much sense here in equatorial Africa. Even after translating the words into French to make them easier to understand, they weren’t any easier to understand. Someone thought they had seen un traîneau (a sleigh) once, but it was just a children’s toy. I tried to explain it could also be a real vehicle pulled by horses over snow. At that point all eyes glazed over.

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How Do You Solve a Problem Like…

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So I’m currently teaching to the tune of The Sound of Music in my ESL class. It’s a little reward for my students—though I suppose my use of that word depends on whether you like the musical or not—after having followed strict grammar lessons for more than a year. It took us that long to get through the whole series of Michel Thomas’ Apprendre Anglais. Which was a great experience. But it’s one thing to practice drills, quite another to listen to a movie in a foreign language and be able to follow along.

I knew my students were itching to try out their new Anglophile ears, so I took a look through my DVD library. The Sound of Music was an easy choice. The language is fairly slow, simple, easy to understand; it’s semi-religious which is a big hit around here; it can hardly be considered inappropriate, at least as some of our other movies might; and the catchy songs are bound to stick in your head. (For months on end… trust me.) What better way to rehearse vocabulary and word combinations over and over again than with a song stuck inside your head?? Continue reading →

Teaching English (or Trying To)

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A company contact (and friend) asked me one evening at a social function if I’d like to volunteer part-time as an English teacher. She knew of three guys who were looking for a little help, but for some reason couldn’t use the company’s training department. She thought one of us expat wives might enjoy a project a couple times a week, and knew I was looking for ways to get involved. So I was happy to say yes.

That first class was April 19, 2011, over three years ago! I can’t believe how time flies. It started off as a twice-a-week sort of thing but then quickly grew; by September 2012 I was teaching five days a week, and today I still am. The numbers vary pretty widely as people come and go, but today on average I would say I have about eight regular students. That’s a good number; about as many as our little picnic table can hold. Continue reading →

School’s (not quite) Out for Summer

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School may be out for summer back home, but in Congo the kids won’t start their break until the 2nd of July, the coldest part of winter here. My hometown friend with the pen pal project managed to grab another round of letters and videos from her son’s class before they finished out the year, and on Friday I went back to the school to see what we could accomplish. It had been several weeks without any news from our liaison, so I figured there hadn’t been much progress. I went expecting to have to present the newest letter and video from Kansas for the first time.

It turned out I was totally wrong. Not only had the kids already received the materials, but they had already studied them, started their responses, and posted the printouts up on the wall.

But not on the wall of their classroom… they were on the wall of the principal’s office! Along with those of the first round, the Kansas kids’ photos have a prominent position next to a poster of the Presidents of Africa. Continue reading →

The Return to the Road to Nowhere

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My friend and I returned to the airstrip today for our second round of incredible exercise for the week, secretly hoping the women who had been working there on Tuesday wouldn’t be there any longer. They were. We decided to walk anyway, but only one lap, and after that we would walk the village road to the grocery store. While our magic exercise car followed us, of course.

The women were excited to see us, and were much more forward today. As soon as we stepped onto the tarmac two of them approached, waving. They wanted to give us a high-five, which felt pretty awesome. But then the second one said, in good English, “Give me…” which, sadly, is the way many sentences begin around here, while she searched me for something she could take. I didn’t have anything on me except my iPhone. “Give me…” she repeated, followed by something unintelligible. But it didn’t matter. I looked her directly in the eye, still smiling, then deadpanned, “No.” It came off like the joke I wanted it to, and all the ladies from the sidelines laughed. Even the asker laughed, and moved back to her side of the tarmac as we sped on. Continue reading →

The Road to Nowhere

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Wheels are a relatively new invention, as far as village life in Congo is concerned. Each time I have the opportunity to get on a set myself and leave base camp, maybe 2-3 times a week, I still can’t help but stare out the window at all the action outside, all the people coming and going on foot. They are a kaleidoscope of shapes and sizes, colorful clothing and big smiles. On Sundays we often skip the wheels and walk to the village market, mixing and mingling with everyone else. This is my favorite part about living in Africa, actually. People spend most of their time outdoors, interacting with their neighbors, each other, and with us. Each time we make the market trip I count at least two dozen hello’s and how are you’s. I love it.

It’s always a huge culture shock in reverse when I return home and realize how few people are out and about on foot. We have sidewalks everywhere, built expressly for this purpose, yet no one uses them! A good friend from Warsaw who used to live in Congo with us told us about the time she was walking along a perfectly nice wide sidewalk in a Dallas suburb. A nice wide sidewalk that was also empty, since this was the kind of place where people didn’t walk; they drove. She was so out of place that she got the attention of some police driving by, who pulled over to ask her if everything was all right. She said yes, I’m just getting some exercise. Still suspicious, they questioned why then wasn’t she wearing a jogging suit. Continue reading →

Guava Season

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Our resident French doctor friend came by the house last weekend with a bucket full of guavas for us. Guavas are falling off the trees around here; it seems they all come into season at the exact same moment and last only a couple of weeks. Kind of like mango season a couple months ago, intense but brief. Guavas are apparently really good for you: A single fruit contains four times as much vitamin C as an orange! They’re loaded with antioxidants and have lots of traditional medicinal uses, including fighting cancer.

The only guava I’d ever tasted before was guava juice at a breakfast buffet in Thailand. I’d loved it. But a bucket of guavas and no juicer in sight? I didn’t know what to do with them. Continue reading →

Cooking in Congo

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So I threw a little Thanksgiving party last night. Yes, it’s March, but hey, we live in a mining camp in the middle of Africa. One never knows when they’ll get their hands on a turkey. And this turkey that I stumbled across was way too big for our freezer, so I invited the first two people we ran into after buying it, saying, “Hey, how’s dinner four days from now for ya?” A day or two for defrosting, a day or two for brining, another day for roasting, and there you go.

We found this turkey at the bottom of a freezer at our camp grocery store during their closeout sale, before changing management. Where had they been hiding it, and for how long?? Not that we’re picky. I remember having lived here for six months when I found a rack of pork ribs at the bottom of the same freezer, not even wrapped in plastic. It was completely exposed, slightly freezer burned, but I said hey, that’s different, I think I’ll take that. I had never made pork ribs in my life before, but no matter. I was desperate for something new. My neighbor thought I was crazy, then later told me her husband was jealous she hadn’t bought them. I found a killer recipe online that is now one of our favorites.

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