Waiting for the heat and humidity to break and for Rainy Season to officially announce itself present. The sky is dark with heavy clouds but has been teasing for weeks. Our part of Congo, south of the equator, is dried up and dusty, having had no rain for the better part of six months now. The air is hazy and brown, whether you’re looking up from the ground, or down from the windows of an airplane as I was a few days ago. There’s not much to look at.
Happy 6th Birthday to sweet munchkins Isabela & Sofia, Happy Labor Day to all, and happy 4th anniversary to Adventures in Congo!
At each annual milestone since moving here, we ask ourselves how much longer we think we’ll stay. Our parents and long-term cat sitter ask us this even more often. Our answer has always been, and still is, “Who knows?” Continue reading
Yesterday, the DRC and WHO announced that Ebola is here. But not here here, and not Ebola Ebola. There are a lot of buts involved in explaining this… which I know you probably don’t want to hear. It must be frustrating to hear me sounding cavalier about this topic — though it’s not at all how I intend to sound, because believe me, I have quite a healthy respect for my own mortality and can often sense impending doom (even when utterly unnecessary). If Seb and I felt at risk, we would be out of here.
This story is dedicated to my cousin Megan, and her adorable new arrival. May your futures be filled with happiness, health, and all the livestock your hearts desire.
No, the ladies who called me fat the other day weren’t onto something. (Sorry to disappoint, Mom, Dad, and Grandma!) There’s a tradition around here of naming new babies after one’s boss. As a result there are lots of Congolese children running around with American names like Jeff, Eric, or Bob, instead of Swahili names like Ilunga, Mpala, or Lamba Lamba.
Thank you to the friends and family who’ve contacted me to ask about the status of Ebola here. I love that you’re thinking of us and definitely owe you an update (especially after so recently complaining about giardia!). You all had done your homework, too, mentioning that it seemed to be far away from us. Those of you who haven’t contacted me probably also noticed it wasn’t too close. So I say nice work everybody, we have a total geography WIN here!
Whichever camp you fall in, you’re right. It IS far away from us. There are no reported cases in our little DR-Congo, nor any neighboring countries. This reassurance, of course, overlooks a few key facts, like: Ebola was discovered in 1976 in this very country; it’s named after a tributary of the Congo River; and, somehow, the current strain affecting West Africa (out of five possibilities) is the “Zaire” strain, or the same one that usually strikes here. Yikes. Ahem.
Shortly after moving here both Seb and I started dropping a lot of weight. I was playing tennis several times a week, we were both on our feet much more than before, and we were quickly being weaned of our fast-food lunch and fancy-restaurant dinner habits. Oh, and the occasional bout of exotic-bacteria-driven diarrhea didn’t hurt, either. Moving to Africa is kind of like going off to college, except here it’s the anti-freshman-15.
But then, a few months later, I stopped playing tennis. I started finding my way around the grocery store aisles in Lubumbashi, discovering where to get the best butter, cheese, and cream. I learned how to bake bread. The pounds weren’t coming off anymore, and I may have even reversed course, but… whatever. I grumbled if Seb suggested a beach vacation but otherwise kind of denied to myself it was happening. Continue reading
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.
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.)
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.
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
Adventures in Congo 