Untold Story

As I was putting together some photos and memorabilia for a poster presentation that I'm scheduled to give this coming weekend, I came across a bunch of stuff from Congo. Like my well-worn dog tag, hanging from a bumpy silver chain, that allowed me to get into embassy-owned properties. There was my ELFP handbook. Some special cards and notes from friends. Lots of photos of students and other teachers. It felt good to see these things, revisiting some of my experiences, and reviewing the history of the country.

I found a story that I had hand-written, but never wrote on my blog about because I needed time to process it. It concerned a two-year old girl, the only daughter of one of my friend's workers. The child had gotten very sick with malaria, which is quite common in Congo. They don't take prophylactic antimalarials, like us temporary folks, because they would have to take them for too long of a time, which isn't a good thing. So instead, they treat the disease, once it manifests itself, with high doses of the same medication that prevents it from occuring. In this case, the parents took the child to the clinic, where they were told to give her quinine, twice a day from a small bottle, that had an eye dropper in it. The child was to receive two drops twice a day, but for some reason the father did not understand the dosage and gave her two teaspoons the first day. By the second day, she was dead. Quinine, in large doses, it turns out is highly poisonous.

It is surprising to me that this type of tragedy doesn't occur more often; maybe it does, but you just don't hear about it. After that episode, teaching English to medical students became even more important to me.

Captions: Several young kids at a picnic just ouside Kinshasa

Boring? I sure hope so.

Having left you all hanging for over a month, I think I better first apologize. It has been a wonderful home coming, to say the least. It has also been the fastest month of my life, having arrived in Grand Rapids on Tuesday night, August 26 at 10:00 pm, retrieved my luggage, found my little red Honda Accord in the airport parking lot where Grace had left it that afternoon, rescued the car keys from the guard in the ticket booth, and drove home. This was, obviously, the first time I had stepped inside my house for eleven months. Once here, I was almost in euphoria. But...duty called and sleep was a must due to the start of my new job the next (now the current) day back in Grand Rapids by 9:00 am. A quick scrounging around to find something to wear that was presentable and fit. Took a sleeping pill and set the alarm. Whew! Made it through the first three days of the new job. Now we're to the weekend. I had a chance to unwind and catch up on stuff around the house and even see a few friends. It has continued to go that way, however, I'm much more protective of my time than I used to be, realizing that if I'm not, I'll pay the price.

What do I do, anyway? I'm teaching English through the LIteracy Center of West Michigan. Their office is on the 5th floor of the Ryerson Library. I am currently teaching a group of non-English speakers at LACKS. And no, they are not Hispanic. They are from Bosnia, Iraq, Iran and Ethiopia and studying a special English in the workplace English program. I hope they are enjoying it as much as I am teaching it.

So I apologize for not writing sooner. I also am sorry to not add a photo today. Getting my photographs ready for exhibition is my next project. Up till now I've been focusing on getting the house tidied up, preparing my 2007 taxes (groan!), and staying on top of the work schedule. I'm going to try to keep this blog going for those of you who want to follow the progress of my adventures. So far, it has been blessedly UNeventful here. Thank you, God.

Last Leg

Writing from the Toronto Airport as I wait for the final flight into Grand Rapids. It seems so anti-climactic after being gone for so long and having had so many unusual experiences. I just had a cup of tea and a cookie and bought some time on-line to fill you in on the latest (maybe the best, too!) part of the journey. I spent the last three weeks in Whistler, as I said before. The construction in preparation for the 2010 Olympic in Whistler/Vancouver is in full swing. A week ago, Grace, Jon, Dan, Virginia and Sadie all arrived at the condo in Whistler. On Friday, David and Angie arrived from Washington D.C. They overlapped for about 24 hours with Jon and Grace who flew out from Bellingham (WA) to Detroit on Saturday night.

During our time together, we hiked, biked, ate lots of great fresh fish: tuna, salmon, scallops, discovered a few good B.C. wines, got lost again in Brandywine Falls (no kidding!) and found one sizable bear at the bottom of Creekside that we respected from a distance. We forced ourselves to go out for breakfast at Crepe Montagne one morning, which were pretty impressive. Most of us were able to ride the gondola up the mountain to the peak on one really clear day. I just learned from a woman who sat next to me on the plane from Vancouver, that we could have had a tour of the Olympic Village if we'd wanted too. Sorry, guys, I didn't know, or we could have done that instead of playing another round of "Sequence."

Then last night, after a great anniversary celebration at Anthony's in Bellingham, David and Angie took off from Seattle with a direct flight to Baltimore. I spent one more night with the Houstons last night, got one last big hug in from Sadie and left about 6:00 am this morning from Vancouver, not however, before getting a little scare that my seat was not confirmed. Dan kindly let me use his office internet before we left Lynden to see that the travel agent had sent me my e-ticket last night. Everything ran very smoothly through the various hoops entering the Customs and Immigration section of the airport here.

When I get to Grand Rapids, my little red Honda Accord should be waiting for me where Grace left it in the parking lot. I'll drive to Spring Lake and (hopefully!) sleep, then turn around tomorrow morning for GR where I will begin a part-time job with the Literacy Center of Western Michigan. I am being hired as a teacher/trainer for various manufacturing companies in western Michigan. As some of you might remember, I did some of this teaching last year, before I left, however, I was hired "by the job" rather than in a salaried position. I'm ready to jump into this after being a nomad for a month!

What about the blog? I think I'll keep it up and see how it goes. There are still photos I'd like to post and stories that continue to come out. And, in case you didn't notice, I'm not home yet...and as I have discovered, anything can happen!

Thanks for listening! Till the next time!

Photos: 1)The BEAR; 2)Sadie Grace, Jon and Grace; 3)Sadie Grace celebrating her 1st birthday with Uncle David; 4)Grace, Jon, Dan, Virginia, Sadie Grace, David and Angie.

Whistler

Spending two weeks in the world class skiing/mountain biking area of Whistler (B.C.) is hardly what I would classify as suffering. When I arrived last Wednesday night, after saying goodbye (temporarily) to Sadie, Virginia and Dan, I wondered if I'd find enough to do to keep busy. To begin with, there's running water. Running HOT water. A miracle of sorts. And electricity. As far as I know it hasn't shut off even once. So if nothing else, I can soak in the jacuzzi or watch DVD's, but I've really got plenty of other things to do.

I lit a couple of candles during dinner last night just to reminisce about life in Kinshasa, offering a romantic ambiance for the Pinot Grigio I opened to accompany fresh "Sox steak," a term the locals use for sockeye salmon. For $5.00, I was able to purchase a rather substantial and delicious piece. I may try the tuna tonight. Fish was not on the menu very often in Kinshasa, although you could get some pretty good capitaine out of the Congo River.

The other day, I pulled up to the condo and was going to get out of the car when I saw a smallish brown bear ascending the steps to the condo. He snooped around and not finding anything interesting meandered along the sidewalk. After waiting a few minutes, I quickly went up the steps and got inside. No camera to document that one, but it was vividly imprinted on my mind.

Today, I decided to be adventuresome and take a little hike in the nearby forest. I had been doing some reading about various areas and was feeling confident that I could manage by myself, as long as I had a map to follow, which I did. Knowing there really are bears out there just heightened my desire to conquer the wilderness, which seemed pretty tame because of the well-marked trails. I found the Brandywine Provincial Park with ease. Paid parking? You've got to be kidding. How civilized is this? So I had a nice chat with a couple from Germany, paid my $3.00 and walked to the Brandywine Falls, a beautiful 66 meter drop into the blueish-green water below, then flowing into the unbelievably gorgeous Daisy Lake. The water evidently takes on the color of the rocks around it, almost an artificial teal color.

The signs pointed to the Suspension Bridge only 3.5 kilometers out. On I went in the sunshine, clapping my hands occasionally to let any wildlife out there know that I was in the vicinity. Never saw anything or anyone, until I got to the Calcheak suspension bridge over the Callaghan Creek just before it meets the Cheakamus River. There were four bikers on their way to the falls. I trekked across the bridge and rewarded myself with a ham/cheese on naan (Indian bread). Instead of walking back the way I came, I followed a sign that said "To Brandywine Falls," which in theory would make a nice loop. The weather is now starting to cloud over. The trail is becoming less marked and more overgrown with fallen trees, rocks, marshy areas. I'm doing ok, but wondering if this was a good decision. Maybe I should turn back? I finally can hear the falls. Whew. I must be close. So I sit down and have the last of my snacks, an orange, viewing a quiet pond below. When I got up to start walking again, the trail went straight, I'm not kidding, off a cliff. Not interested in scaling down the mountain, I retraced my steps, but couldn't quite remember which direction I needed to go to get back. By this time, I'm feeling the rain, but reminded myself NOT TO PANIC, even though I started shouting "Hello!" hoping someone might be listening. Wonder of wonders, I spotted an orange diamond on a tree, pointing the way somewhere, even if it was back to the suspension bridge. I didn't care, whatever way I could get out, I would go, so I started walking, even though the sound of the falls was getting farther away. The orange diamonds on the trees turned into orange plastic ribbons and then there were no more--just blue ribbons forging over a creek on a huge fallen tree. I couldn't believe that was the route. Why didn't I know what blue ribbons mean when you're hiking?

Ok, so I forged the creek but on the other side was thick overgrown brush, about six feet high. Do I bushwhack through it? What to do? I walked for a few minutes along side of it until I could see a clearing. Railroad tracks: Hallelujah! This was as good as it gets because I remembered crossing the tracks near the falls. But...now the questions was which way? Because it was cloudy I had no idea where the sun was. My map said which way north was, but without knowing where I was, without a compass goes without saying, I had to guess. I started going right, on the gut feeling that I had come from that direction, but then I second guessed myself, turned around and went left after taking in as many factors as I could: sound, light in the sky, curve in the railroad tracks ahead possibly matching the curve noted on my map, and a gradual uphill grade.

So after walking around the bend, there were people! I had circled back to the original parking area. Yes, I learned my lesson. All the books say, don't go hiking alone. Good advice, which I will adhere to from now on.

Chill

Well, what I thought would be an easy flight across the Atlantic, turned out to be a three day marathon of sorts. I arrived at Fuimicino (Rome Airport) early on Saturday morning only to learn that my seat had been cancelled due to something beyond my control. I spent the rest of Saturday trying to figure out what to do in order to get to Vancouver. Short of buying a first class ticket for $7500 for the next morning, I was fairly stranded. I spent the night in an airport Hilton and then was back in the airport by 7:00 a.m. to try to get on a flight to London, of which there were three. The first two were full, but I was booked for the third, leaving at 1:35 p.m. At noon British Air announced that the flight was running a little late, as the jet had not left London yet. By 3:30 p.m. it finally pulled in and we took off around 4:15. The only problem was that my connection in London for Vancouver was scheduled to leave at 5:10, which it did. British Air put me up in London at a very nice Marriot and told me to hang out for 2 nights until they could book me on a flight to Vancouver. If you ever have to overnight around Heathrow, I recommend this hotel--especially the Belgian waffles for the buffet breakfast.

Fortunately, a seat next to three children under the age of two was available for me on Monday night and I did arrive safely, but slightly traumatized, on Monday night in Vancouver where Viriginia, Dan and Sadie were patiently waiting. They were skeptical that I was really going to make it at all after the delays. It was better than I imagined to see them, probably because even I was starting to wonder if I'd make it back.

We took the ferry to Vancouver Island, did a quick tour of beautiful Butchart Gardens (see photo) and spent an extra night in a little hotel in Victoria. It was such fun. We parted ways yesterday when I headed north to Whistler and they returned to Lynden, Washington. I'll be chilling out here until they come up and join the other kids for a family reunion.

Out of Africa

Hi Everyone. I'm writing from an Internet Cafe in Florence, near the Duomo, after having visited Boboli Gardens all day. The time is being monitored, so I'll write fast. I arrived in Rome yesterday morning, having left Djili Airport (Kinshasa) at 8:00 pm Friday night after a VERY busy two weeks being the English Coordinator for a day camp about 100 high school kids in the English Access Microscholarship Program.

I met a friend in the Rome airport, where we rented a car and drove up to Florence, making a stop in Orvieto. Our plans are to spend a few days around here and then head to Rome on Thursday. I fly out on Saturday to Vancouver via Heathrow, where I'll hook up with Virginia, Dan and Sadie. Then on to Whistler where everyone will be coming around the 18th of August. It's a round about way to get to Spring Lake. I'll hope to see you all after the 26th of August. More stories to tell. More pictures to show! Love to all.
Photo: Street "chalking" in Florence

Seven foot two

Maybe you’ve heard of him. I had not before coming to Congo, but once I got here, I kept hearing about the Dikembe Mutombo this, that and the other thing. He takes in over 20 million a year and gives a lot of it back to Congo, creating and maintaining clinics and hospitals. Someone said he really wanted to be a doctor as a young kid, but ended up making it big in the NBA, most recently with the Houston Rockets. At age 41, he’s the second oldest player in the NBA. When Jon and Grace (daughter) were here, he and I toured the Mutombo Hospital out near the airport. It was very well equipped, but not well populated, primarily because it is expensive to keep it going without having private paying patients or patients with insurance coverage. It is impressive, however. They maintain their own water filtration system, operating rooms, laboratory, and generators. The patients receive food from the hospital. (See photo).

Yes, the 7’2” man himself is here in Kinshasa for the next few days, making his annual visit to drum up more support for his philanthropic work. Getting clothes to fit is not as difficult as finding shoes—size 22! Along with him are about 25 other people, including his wife, Rose, and his older brother who seems short on the side of Dikembe, just guessing, 6’9.” They took several high school students from the French International School in Houston. One gentleman is the videographer for the Houston Rockets. Another is here with a Christian group making a film showing what the Mutombo Foundation does and what its needs are. Another gentleman, Mark, who happened to have a daughter from the International School in Houston, was an entrepreneur and talked about “setting up a sister city” program between Kinshasa and Houston.

More to come about Dikembe next time.