Congo Scenes

Untold Story

2008-10-18T22:21:00.006-04:00

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.

2008-09-30T21:46:00.004-04:00

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

2008-08-26T19:35:00.008-04:00

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

2008-08-12T19:41:00.005-04:00

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

2008-08-07T17:41:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-27T11:35:00.004-04:00

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

2008-07-14T03:07:00.006-04:00

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.

Happy Birthday!

2008-07-06T14:47:00.008-04:00

How sweet of the State Department to throw a super extravaganza for my birthday on the night of the Fourth and during the day on the Fifth. My birthday is today, the Sixth.

Let’s start with Friday night. Although no fireworks could be displayed, the Ambassador’s residence was outfitted for the occasion. I don’t know how many red white and blue helium-filled balloons attached to colored lumieres were scattered across the lawn, but it was a visual delight. Set in the backdrop of large palm trees was one of those huge screens for viewing via power point, the latest and the best work that the embassy has accomplished here. Beneath that screen on a platform stood the acting Defence Attache in full dress, the DCM (2nd in command), the Ambassador’s wife, Linda, followed by Ambassador Garvelink. They greeted as many of the 1000 + guests as possible, all of whom had received printed and hand-delivered invitations. As we approached the lawn we were quickly beseiged by more servers of drinks and hors d’oeuvres than you can imagine. There were mini-everythings: crab cakes, hush puppies, pork barbeque, burgers, pigs in the blanket, tortilla wraps, and more, each representing a cuisine from an area of the U.S. The Marines performed the beautiful Color Guard and then the live jazz band really got the party going. All this occured between 6:00 and 9:00 p.m.

The Fifth of July? Another story. It started out with a frantic phone call from Linda. “Where is everybody?” She might have said a little more, but I’ve forgotten. When I arrived at the residence, the food people were milling around not knowing where to set up. That was weird, i thought, because we had made special arrangements last Thursday on site to nail down all these details. But for some reason, things had all changed with the big party the night before. By the time we figured it out, it was already 11:00 a.m. The doors were scheduled to open at 12:00. The electricity then chose to cut in and out and the electrician did some fast rigging for the schwarma machine.

The next thing was the tables. We were expecting 250 people but were only given seating for 100. So a stat order was made to get 15 more tables. Then there was the bar. The Bralima people delivered their drinks by 10:00 am. However, at about 11:45 every one of the attendents decided to leave the premises and get some lunch. So there we were until about 12:30 with enough beer to fill the fish pond and no one to serve.

Once the Marines completed the Color Guard, the National Anthem was sung, and the Ambassador and Linda both gave speeches, the food line formed. Unfortunately, now the power to the shwarma machine was shorting out with a loud “pop," flashing sparks and smoke every 30 minutes or so. The chef, as far as I know, still has all his hair, but it was as close to seeing fire works that we got. This, of course, held up the food line so it was about an hour or so before everyone was able to get their lunch. If anyone complains about waiting for great food that is free, let them talk to me.

Then the talent show. I just couldn’t resist, and since I’m on my way out, decided to dress up in the traditional Dutch cap and wooden shoes. I became "Janica" the English teacher with a little bit of a speech problem. I taught the group some of the fundamentals of the flag, encouraging them to keep working on their English. Need I say, that I did not win the $100.00 gift certificate to the Portuguese Restaurant, O’Poeta. O well. I then led the sing-a-long accompanied by the DCM on keyboard and Joyce Hightower, M.D. singing into the mike. That was the best part of the day for me.

The grande finale after all the kids had a chance to bob for apples was a tug-of-war with the Marines. It was a great ending to a great, but crazy day.

Happy Birthday U.S.A.!

Photo captions: Birthday Cake; MeJane with Linda, and Uncle Sam

Zongo Falls

2008-06-29T04:44:00.004-04:00

About 120 miles outside of Kinshasa the Inkisi River drops approximately 100 feet (I'm guessing) very close to where you can watch it from across the narrow river. I had heard of this natural wonder a few weeks back when a friend of mine was invited to go there for a road rally, with forty vehicles, souped up brand new SUV's with everything on them that you might need: Multiple containers of gasoline (it would take 8 hours to get there going off-road), heavy duty chains, replacement tires, and enough supplies to support the participants for an overnight camping experience. They forded streams where several vehicles were stranded and needed rescuing.

Fortunately, our group consisted of only four cars, and we payed an embassy chauffeur to drive us. Our leader, was Maliaka (see photo), from the State Department who was able to maneuver throughout the hills and markings with no hesitation. She chose the four hour route, but not necessarily "easy." The ruts were deep, and the road narrow. We were lucky when we hit 30 mph for the last 2 hours of the trip.

Some of the other people on the trip with us were some TDY'ers (temporary duty) young people in information technology. One of them was a graduate of Calvin College (2001), so Linda, also from Calvin, Katie and I had our photo (above) taken together at the falls. Joyce, an M.D., who manages the Foundation for the famous Congolese basketball player, Dikembe Mutombo, and a few retired Marines who work with the local military guys were there, too.

If you like, you can rent a little cabin near the falls. We just brought along a variety of picnic stuff and were back in Kinshasa by 6:00 pm. Congo holds 13% of the world's hydroelectric potential. The largest site is at the Inga Dam, but this little river is one of the contributors. It is not nearly on the scale of Victoria Falls, but it is nevertheless impressive and one of those places that you remember long after you've been there.

CALI Graduation

2008-06-25T09:02:00.005-04:00

Last Saturday, I was asked to give the welcoming remarks at the CALI (Congo American Language Institute) graduation. I knew quite a few of the 250 graduates, but one in particular. For some reason, David, a young man of twenty seemed to enjoy it when I visited his class. When he realized I would be at the graduation ceremony, he invited me to attend a little party at a local restaurant, owned by his uncle and aunt, "Avec Mes Amies." He wrote me a text message (on the cell phone, which is really popular here because it only takes five units to send) following the party: "Jane, I don't know how to show u my happeness about what u did for me today, the way u make my calmates, my families member and i happy. It was wonderful to be with u in the same restaurant and to enjoy life together. The words aren't enough for me to tell u what i fill exactly now!I'm relly happy about u! And i wish to get along with u soon because u have a goodplace my heart. let god give u a long life because u know how to make people happy.jane u are a friend of mine! Have a greattime.david"

The graduation had the usual speakers: Keynote. who was the head of Finance at the U.S. Embassy, student representatives, and faculty representative. The Director of CALI, Solomon Oshinaike, gave his parting speech. He leaves with his wife for CapeTown, where she has accepted a position with the State Department. He will have to look for another "spouse job," as they term it. It was his job that the Embassy wanted me to fill after this grant finished. I seriously considered it, but decided against it for a number of reasons. FYI I leave here in exactly one month from today (the 25th of July). I'll spend about ten days getting home, via Rome, then D.C. where I'll see David and Angie DeGroot, then on to Michigan around the 4th of August.

CALI, as I may have already told you, is run by the Embassy. They offer six levels of English, taught by very accomplished Congolese, many with PhD's from the states. Each level is comprised of 100 hours of class time within a ten week period. That means that every day, Monday through Friday, students, all adults and mostly professionals, attend class for two hours per day for ten weeks. It is a grueling schedule to keep, especially if you are trying to hold a job. But the students are very determined. Many of them, including my friend David, had a star by his name on the program, which meant he had perfect attendance. His goal is to become a lawyer. Yes, hopes to study in the U.S. or possibly South Africa. I have no doubt he will make it.

Photos: With students at the graduation; Chair at graduation; Dinner at Avec Mes Amies: Chicken, fried (in palm oil) plaintains and cole slaw.

The Access Program

2008-06-15T14:40:00.005-04:00

When I was in Lubumbashi, I interviewed 18 people for 10 teaching position for the Access Program. Access is a U.S. State Department program that offers two-year scholarships to high school students all over the world to learn English. After Carole, T.C. and I made our final choices, Carole went about selecting the fortunate 100 students who would be given the full scholarships. She arranged for them to meet in central locations, ordered all the books and workbooks, trained the new ten teachers and has had the program up and running for 4 months already.

Dorothy was one of two women we chose as a teacher for the Access program. She was born in Equateur Province (North), Congo. Lived in Kinshasa for a time and then with her husband moved to the Lubumbashi area where she gradually completed her education in order to be an English teacher of secondary school students. She is going to be fifty this October. She has nine biological children, her youngest is thirteen, I believe. A step-child makes ten. Then there are the children of a neice who live with her. And her own grandchildren are living with her.

Well, having that kind of busy home life might be enough for one person, but Dorothy decided that she wanted to go on with her education, so she is in the process of getting the equivolent of a master's degree in criminology so she can be more effective in her work with women's rights. She was also selected to attend a six-week program in the U.S. in order to learn how to be a more effective teacher. She was the only person from Congo out of people from 28 countries. She is currently in Kinshasa waiting for her documents to be completed. Her flight goes out on Thursday. She has never been outside of Congo. I can't imagine what she is going to think when she lands in Hartford, CN., then is bussed to Amhurst, MA. After several weeks of study, they are flown to Wyoming and California. She is very eager for this new adventure and will never be the same because of it.

Photo: Dorothy from Lubumbashi.

Language Learning

2008-06-08T12:44:00.006-04:00

"How do you teach an English class, anyway, especially if you don't speak French?" That's a frequently asked question and one that is not that easy to answer. In my defense, I am taking the initiative to learn French while I'm here: 1) enlisting a private tutor for one hour a week; 2) coordinating a two hour semi-private lessons with another woman who's also trying to speak more fluently; and 3) watching the DVD that accompanies our textbook each week, and 4) wriiting out the exercises that accompany the DVD. With that educational focus combined with the daily practice of speaking, my level of understanding is definitely improving, as is my ability to speak Congolese French and actually communicate. It is still challenging and frustrating, however, when I know I'm saying the right word, but my listener doesn't get it.

Which makes me identify with my students when they are trying their best to make sense, but just aren't being understood. So to teach them, what I usually do is start right out with 100 % English in all my classes. It takes a few minutes for everybody to relax and realize that I'm not going to embarrass them if they make a mistake. On the contrarary, I encourage them to test out their speaking skills, to use their voices as much as possible in a class period, which is usually two hours long. Most students are well acquainted with grammar and know how conjugate verbs, both regular, irregular, probably better than most native English speakers can. I mean if you were asked, what is the past tense form of the verb "to lay" for third person singular, would you be able to tell me? Well, a lot of my students can. But they have a hard time speaking English. So that's where I come it. It's really rewarding to see what a few short weeks of building confidence can do. It isn't difficult to teach, but it takes a lot of patience and energy. I don't always display of either as much as I should, but overall, God has provided the necessary qualities to get the job done. Not perfect, but well enough.

On another topic, I'm co-chair of the American Community Celebration coming up on July 5. It will be an old-fashioned afternoon picnic, for all the expatriots here in Kinshasa, most of whom have already left for the summer, but there are probably 250 of us left who will be there. If any of you are visiting at the time, be sure to bring photo id and you'll be let in the gate and the residence of the Ambassador and his wife. The evening of the 4th is being reserved for certain Congolese (about 1000) who are invited to celebrate with the Ambassador and his wife.

And more good news. I got a call from the mechanic this morning just before church started that the car was on it's way to us. Oscar dropped it off at church. I took it to Al-Dar for some Lebanese falafel, shwarma, hummus and then drove it home. Simple pleasures.

Sorry--the internet won't let me load photos on today. Maybe tomorrow?

Book Club DRC

2008-05-31T15:22:00.009-04:00

I just returned from my second evening soiree in a row and I am determined to write my long-overdue blog. I'm so sorry to have ignored you this week. Thank you for your patience!

The embassy event tonight was a celebration of all the alumni of the "International Visitors Program," a program in which professionals from around the world are selected to go to the United States for an all expenses paid trip for a two or three week learning experience. They are sent with various agendas, introducing them to the best of what we have to offer from successful professionals in their field. I spoke with several "Ministers" in the government, lawyers (both men and women) and professors. Everyone could not say enough about how much they appreciated their experience.

Last night's program was all about the fight against HIV/AIDS in Africa. The U.S. Ambassador to PETFAR, (the Presidents Emergency Plan for Aids Relief), Ambassador Mark Dibel was the honored guest. He is making a tour through Africa and left this morning with U.S. Ambassador Garvelink and several others for a conference in Uganda on HIV/Aids. Three new videos were shown advocating safe sex and abstinence. About fifty people attended the gathering who are all working to combat HIV/Aids in the DRC. The U. S. has doubled it's amount of money to be used for this purpose, going from $15 million to $30 million in Congo alone. I was invited because of the text I have been asked to write in conjunction with a film to educate high school students.

A couple of my friends and I just decided this past January that we needed to increase our intellectual stimulation. We determined to meet the second Sunday night of every month and have been meeting ever since. We started with some Flannery OConnor short stories. Then read the Shack, by William P. Young, which is an allegory in a way, about the trinity. In April, we read and discussed Suite Francaise, by Nemorovsky. Last Sunday night, Abbey and I were on the docket for leading Traveling Mercies, by Anne LaMotte. We had a lively discussion about her honesty and openness, even to the point of not wanting to hear what she has to say. If you haven't read this book...No, I was going to recommend it, but I've quit doing that because everyone has a different idea of what constitutes a good book. In June, our discussion will center around A 1000 Splendid Suns by Hosseini. I am learning about Afghanistan through this fictionalized account of life during the recent past.

Caption: Book Club, Kinshasa, DRC; Gloria Biffert, Val and Christiana Shepard, Abigail Martin, Tanya Reitz, Sylvia Turner, Rebecca Robinson and Me, Jane. (Missing are Nancy Allen, Kathy Younker, Charity Schellenberg and Anne Sundberg)

Bread Basket

2008-05-22T09:49:00.005-04:00

It was this past Monday at 6:00 a.m. I was standing out on the corner near my home trying to flag down a taxi. The pink colored Queen Restaurant is there, as well as the local outdoor cafe where the "Debriefing Session" of the TASOK (American School) teachers occurs. Neither the Queen, nor the cafe was open at that hour, but the Bread Depot, located in between the two, was. And it was like a bee hive. Hundreds of bagette orders that were divided into orange-colored milk crates were being picked up by women who then load them into a "sani ya momene," which Lingala for bread basket. The ends of the bagettes stick out the top. If it's raining, the women will cover the whole thing with plastic. They hoist their loaded baskets on their heads and walk for as long as they need to in order to sell their product. Usually they carry between 50 and 100 loaves, but some women have an especially long walk and will carry up to 200 loaves this way. Each loaf costs around twenty cents, so they are very accessible to most people. A huge company, Pain Victoire, has succeeded in controlling the entire bread market. Their delivery system is predictable and efficient. Virtually every Congolese lives on these bagettes, slathering them with mayonnaise or peanut butter or their own variety of fillings.

I'm sorry I do not have a photo of this system. I will try to get one tomorrow. I think I'll bring my night sentinel, Ndambele, with me to translate into Lingala. I'll also bring along a few Congolese francs to compensate the subjects of my photo for their trouble. Bon appetit!

By the way, I never did take a taxi. As I stood there, a Congolese woman drove up with three children in a red Taurus stationwagon and asked me if I needed a ride. When I told her I was going to the U.S. Embassy in town, she told me she was going to be going close to there to drop her kids off at school and she'd be happy to take me there. For no charge! I jumped at the chance and have ridden with her two more times this week. Her kids, ages 4,6 and 12 start school every day at 7:00 a.m. and in order to get them there on time she leaves the house at 6:00. I'll try to get a photo of them, too.

Happy Mother's Day

2008-05-11T17:26:00.007-04:00

Mother's Day has always been a really important day for me. Knowing it was coming, Abbey and I took the opportunity to invite our minister of IPCK (International Protestant Church of Kongo) and his wife and the three of their eight kids who live here over for brunch after church. I've always been partial to Sunday brunch and have had my share of them, most recently enjoying one at the Grand Hotel here with Grace and Jon. It was only $30.00 per plate, service was pretty slow, but the coffee was good, and as Jon so astutely pointed out, it was on par with Denny's back home. We were glad we made the effort, having invited the Ambassador and his wife to join us.

When we were planning the menu for brunch today, we decide to pull out all the stops. We decided to serve mimosas for a beverage and olives with feta cheese, and nuts with raisins for hors d'oevres. For the main meal, we thought a vegetable quiche complete with mushrooms, broccoli, onion and peppers would be nice, accompanied by a mixed salad and assorted homemade muffins, and sausages for those who were not vegetarians. Then for dessert we wanted something simple, like fresh papaya with lime juice sprinkled over it and maybe some Lindt dark chocolate for a powerful finish. So that's what we did. It all turned out exceptionally well and the Shepards (great name for a pastor, eh?) were very pleased to be invited. They are leaving to go back to the states in early June and we will miss them!

It has not been a perfect week, but we did manage to get the car serviced with a new transmission. Doscar, the mechanic, seemed to really know what he was doing. He even washed the car before returning it to us. Unfortunately, it has to get up to 4 RPM's in order for it to shift into a driving gear and it still has a high-pitched squeal when you turn the lights on, but we'll take it back tomorrow to have Doscar do some fine tuning. At least it starts now, with its new battery that Doscare assured me was new because it cost $175.00, instead of the previous "new" one that was filled with acid for a mere $115.00. And it has a two-month guarantee. How's that for assurance!

Abbey found a home in an orphanage for a four-day old baby this week, who was abandoned by the mother near downtown. She also had her wallet stolen from a restaurant last night. She was carrying a boatload of cash and her personal and business credit cards as well as her driver's license. When we told Daniel, the music teacher at TASOK, about it this morning at church, he said he had someone steal his wallet out of his car while he was driving! The windows were down and the crowded streets made it just too easy for someone to reach in. That's why they say keep your windows up and the doors locked.

I think I've mentioned English Club already that meets every Saturday at the American Corner at UPC. Yesterday we had at least 70 people there for the discussion about cooperation between the DRC and Belgium. I thought this would be a low key discussion, but it was really intense. Because Congo was a colony of Belgium before independence in 1960, there are strong feelings about the Belgians and their dominance here. Because there are so many attending the Club, I offered to teach a beginner's class before the current one. It will meet from 10:00 to 12:00; the advanced one from 12:30 to 2:30.

Even though my heart is a little heavy not being with my kids on Mother's Day, I'm really grateful for being able to have this experience. Thanks so much for keeping in touch.

Photo: Rev. Walt Shepard and his son, Theo

P.S. Abbey got a call today that someone "found" her wallet on the street. Although the cash was gone, all of her documents were in tact. We are so thankful!

Pili Pili

2008-05-04T10:31:00.006-04:00

There's a substance here in the DRC that is served with the previously introduced (See: Down on the Farm) bland manioc schwanga as well as any other Congolese food, that livens it up a little. PiliPili is made from a pepper that will put a jalapeño to shame. It's on the order of the chopped chutney-like stuff that is served in the Netherlands at a rice tafel. If you've ever tried that, you will remember. I almost died from the experience a few years ago. I know I'm a wimp when it comes to spicy foods, but I'm getting better than I used to be. I can honestly say that I like the flavor now of freshly ground black pepper on vegetables. But pili-pili is way over my tolerance level and I should have known better.

It was this past Friday night. I had been invited to a business attire (like black tie in the states) event at the Ambassador's residence. I wore my only black dress, complete with nylons and real shoes, not because I wanted to look finished, but because the pantie hose gave me something to spray Permethrin on to ward off the chiggers and mosquitoes. If you're not familiar with this amazing product, it's an insect repellent that you spray on your clothing, not on your skin. Grace and Jon brought me two bottles of it and I'm thrilled with it. Anyway, the previous week I had gotten multiple bug bites on my feet and I couldn't take the chance of getting the same fairly significant reaction from them. I had been popping 25 mg of benedril for days and I was tired of functioning "under the influence." Just a thought: Do allergies from insects have any correlation to allergies from hot peppers?

Anyway, I arrived at the party on time feeling very confident that the bad part of my day was over, having had a minor set-back at 6:30 a.m. due to a dead battery. Realizing I needed help, my sentinel, named Ndambele, called in two "mechanics" who gave me no indication that they even knew how to start a car, much less jump a battery. After completely removing the battery housing because the battery that they had borrowed to start the car was too long, I encouraged them to just get another battery that would fit. Once that was in place, they each held on to a wrench connected the contact points and I turned the key. The Pajero gave a lurch and turned over. The guys removed the replacement battery and attached the old one. Yeah! I was on my way to the university.

Except that a police woman decided to choose that morning to stop me, insisting that I give her my driver's license and car registration. Over my dead body, is usually my response, which here is probably not a terribly prudent phrase, but Abigail was with me by this time and felt in such emotional alignment with this lovely uniformed female stressing the sisterly nature of the relationship, that she graciously obliged. The second the officer had the cards in her hand she turned into something that could be likened to a cartoon she-monster. Abbey did her best to hold her own, but ended up in tears. I called the embassy safety dispatch. Then we called the rector of the university, who fortunately was on his way to work and only minutes away. When he arrived, he didn't mince words, just told me to follow him to the police station, which is actually a painted box car. He asked us to wait while he went in. A few minutes later he returned with the cards in hand. It is very possible a little exchange took place, but we were not privy to that.

It was a beautiful summer night setting along the Congo River. Music was playing, colored lights were twinkling from the tents, people were starting to mill around. The purpose was to give audience to the representatives of PSI, Population Services International, whose key spokesperson is Ashley Judd, sister of Wynnona, daughter of Naomi. Wanting to be sociable, I helped myself to a great Cabernet Sauvignon when a server walked by with a tray of baby shishkabobs that had some reddish sauce in the center. I helped myself and immediately began to hyperventilate, my eyes began to tear, my nose ran, the works. And then, who do you think walked up to me at that moment and said, "Hi Jane," but of course, the Ambassador and one of his top assistants. I did the only thing I could think of at the time, which was to make sign language as if I was choking, which I was. Fortunately, the aid knew his stuff and handed me a napkin which I promplty used to spit the culprit out and then did the only other obvious thing I could, which was to guzzle the wine in my hand. At least until Abbey showed up with a glass of Primus, which I grabbed and consumed on the spot. It was after that that I evidently had a few conversations during which I was not exactly congent. However, I do remember that when Ashley Judd spoke I was totally attentive and very impressed with not only the work PSI is doing, but also with the beautiful way she integrated her faith and values into the talk.

Nothing traumatizing occured after the soiree, we just went to the Grand Hotel for a little more wine and a pizza. Attached is a photo of me and my good friends from Holland/Zeeland, Ambassador William and Mrs Linda Garvelink. What a small world.

A Typical Day

2008-04-27T02:42:00.008-04:00

Since it was Saturday yesterday, I let myself sleep until 7:00 in order to be ready for Abbey to pick me up at 8:30. We left the house and went directly to the university (UPC) where we kept our priorities in order and made coffee with the cups, coffee, water and filter that we had taken from home. She then proceeded to test twenty-two students who had applied for two scholarship positions for her NGO, Giving Back to Africa. I worked at my desk and began to write an article for the CongoBongo, a bi-weekly newsletter for the expatriates here, about the recently opened American Corner. FYI, that is the name given to a space that is established by American Embassies all over the world to provide a venue for learning about American culture through books and media. The inauguration, complete with a ribbon cutting ceremony, of the American Corner occurred on April 1, featuring the Rector of UPC, Dr. Ngoy, and Ambassador Garvelink. Many dignitaries from the area churches and schools attended this event.

As I was just finishing the article, Andrew Ilunga, president of the English Club, knocked on the office door, looking very dismayed. "It's the American Corner. There's been water pouring into it from up above! Everything in the middle is wet!" As we walked together to the corner, I heard more of the story. Evidently the bathroom directly above the AC had a faulty pipe to its sink. As I've said before, plumbing can create very serious problems here and all I could gather was that when the water did come on, it came on with such force that it burst the pipe and flooded the floor above the AC. Being a Friday night, it was not detected until early Saturday morning, at which time the guards were able to shut off the main water supply. Cleaning personnel got right on it and started moving the flowing water out of the upstairs rooms and down the staircase. Meanwhile furniture in the AC was moved and mopping began. Fortunately, the water came through the ceiling in the middle of the room, and through an exterior wall, neither of which held computers, wall monitors or electronics. The book shelves were not affected either, thankfully, so really there was little visible damage. On Monday technical support from the Embassy, Musi, will check the electrical current.

After that episode, I moderated the English Club, which usually meets in the lovely air-conditioned AC, but because of the flood, had to be moved to a traditional classroom. The power was on, so the ceiling fans were running. The guest speaker was Coco, a Congolese law student who was raised in the states. She volunteered to talk about the health (or lack thereof) of Congolese and the high incidence of diabetes.

Directly after the English Club, Abbey and I found our way to a fund-raiser for a Catholic school here that needs a well. The event was being held on the lawn of one of the embassy homes along the Congo River. Several hundred people were there. Vendors were selling all sorts of things and donating to the cause. After getting some great food, including sushi from the Japonese Embassy, Abbey received a phone call from Pierre, our chauffeur. His youngest of five children was very sick, in fact, throwing up blood. He was asking us to please meet him at my house in order to give him money for Baby Dean to get a blood transfusion. We briefly discussed our options and decided to leave the party and meet Pierre. He needed $50.00. We calculated that we had just spent more than that to go to a party. How could we not provide the means for him to get help for his sick child?

Once we had given Pierre the money, Abbey looked at me and said, "Well, I'm ready to go back to the party. You, too?" So we did. Ate some fabulous mango ice cream that Cafe Mozart had brought in. Drank a little Primus, the famous Congolese beer, and went home.

Photos: Twenty-two students from UPC compete for two scholarship postions; Grace and Jon VanderVliet lead a discussion at English Club in the American Corner on the presidential campaign in the states.

The Kitchen Faucet

2008-04-21T08:52:00.006-04:00

Th plumber was here a Saturday afternoon a couple of weeks ago, well, for 7 hours. He left without installing a faucet in the kitchen sink. All of his tools were left scattered over the counter and in the sink. The problem was that the old faucet had a steady leak. Let me say that this was the newer faucet that had been replaced about two months ago because the older one had a tendency to fall apart occasionally. After the plumber had gone home, I tested it out. For about 20 seconds it showed a great burst of rushing water, a welcome change from the former puny trickle. Suddenly there was a large "pop" as water spurt out of the joint. I thought this probably constituted an emergency so I called Mme Mathilde, who contacted the plumber and asked him to return to my house. He turned off the water source and promised to return the next day, a Congolese holiday. Mr. Plumber did with the right parts and tools and all was well until last week.

While I was in Cape Town, the faucet developed a steady leak. It was losing quite a bit of water every day, so I thought it was worth it to mention to Mathilde. As usual, she sent the plumber right over. He seemed to have it all together, but when I gave it the test, it leaked as heavily as it did before he began. He sighed and proceded to take it apart again, but because it was getting dark, requested that he return the next day, which was Sunday.

When I left for church, the plumber was already working on the project. Evidently, the hot and cold water pipes that hook up to the faucet were old and not symmetrical, and at any rate not in the right place for the hook up for the new faucet. The plumber was having trouble trying to make the faucet attach to the pipes. If he forced it to attach to the pipes, he was afraid that it would break again. He asked me in broken French if it would be ok to leave the mess one more night in order to have the right parts to remove the entire pipe behind the wall and attach it the way it should be. Sure, I said. Do it right or not at all.

Monday. I left early before the plumber arrived, but when I got home, I was very pleased to see that indeed a faucet had been installed into the wall pipes. In addition, there was about a three foot long by six inches high gouge in the plaster above the sink, running parallel with the counter where he had removed the old pipes and replaced them. He had nicely replasterd over the pipes and arranged for a painter to cover the discolored patched area. I was pleased to see his thoroughness, then performed the standard test of turning on the water. What? It is still dripping! I called the garcon de la maison (house help) who assured me that the plumber had verified the full repair of the faucet.

Tuesday. Mathilde asked the plumber to come back once again and tighten the joints where he could. It's better, but not perfect. Nothing ever is.

Additional note: Grace and Jon VanderVliet just left yesterday. I'll do something next time on our teaching together. We had a great time together. It meant so much to have them visit me here.

You Know You Live in Kinshasa When . . .

2008-04-14T03:46:00.004-04:00

10. You need to unplug your fridge to toast a piece of bread.
9. When you meet someone, they ask a series of five questions: "How do you find Congo?", "Are you married?", "How long have you been married?", "Do you have children?", "Why not?"
After this initial greeting, they ask what you do and if you are going to come and work in Kinshasa.
8. You pay $126 for a black and white printer cartridge and $5 a day to your personal staff. (Cost of living here is very expensive because everything is imported from South Africa or Europe. Breakfast = $40, Hotel = $200, Dental floss = $8.50, Housing = $1,500, Potato chips = $8. You can find almost everything you would like to buy, you just need to pay for it.)
7. Just because you have power, it doesn't mean you have water. And if you have both simultaneously, it doesn't mean they will last. Ironically, Congo exports power to Brazzaville, across the Congo River, so the producer of power is often without its own product and its sister city is illuminated. They also export water to other countries in Africa but are often without water themselves.
6. You sweat. 85 degrees with 100% humidity, at night, feels cool.
5. You ask a woman with three dozen eggs balanced on her head where to turn and she points with her mouth.
4 1/2. You have the same haircut as all of your friends because you all go to Steve, the Lebanese stylist, who cut the President's hair for ten years. While you might have the same cut, your color will be different every time because he likes to experiment.
4. You leave for the gym at 6 am to beat the traffic and still get stuck. "Traffic" is an all encompassing term that includes: dodging six foot potholes, coaxing a jeep up a hill while producing clouds of black exhaust, attempting a left turn across three lanes of swerving cars, avoiding trucks piled with bags of rice, goats, and people all strapped in 20 feet in the air, watching mini-van taxis with saran-wrapped windows full of 24 people on benches honk at you. Driving here is indescribable. A full time job includes 10 hours of work and 30 hours of logistics to figure out transportation.
3. Your gym is in an American Embassy. While walking from your car to the gym, you pass through a metal detector, give up your passport, and observe cars being checked for explosives.
2. While the police control traffic, they greet you by name because they know your car. If they don't know you, you lock your door and hope they don't get in your car and demand money.
1. You are welcomed and treated with hospitality. People invite you for lunch, dinner, or tea. They make you clothes. They ask for your email so they can "send a warm greeting to the United States". They appreciate your kindness, energy, and desire to talk with them.

This entry was written by guest blogger, Grace, who has thoroughly enjoyed her stay with her mom and admires Jane's ability to navigate life here, where every day is an adventure. In her words, "It's a good day when I don't get killed or kill someone else."

The Bonobos

2008-04-06T15:24:00.003-04:00

Since my arrival in Congo, I've been hearing about the bonobos, a type of monkey that lives in a sanctuary in Lukaya, just outside of Kinshasa. Last Friday, I was able to go with a couple of Marines, and Barbara Conaty, the Director of American Corners in Africa.
You can see that the bonobos are the closest animals genetically to man in the way they respond to each other and to people. They tease and play and are very social. Until just a few years ago, their species was diminishing due to the slaughtering of them for food, the upsetting nature of war on their habitat, the introduction of forestry in their habitat, and their slow reproductive cycles. Several individuals have organized to save the bonobos in Congo and are working very hard to preserve this unique breed of monkey.

I'm scheduled to see them again this coming Friday when daughter Grace and her husband Jon will be able to go with me. I can't believe I'll be with them at this time tomorrow. Don't worry. I'll take lots of photos!

Buitenverwachting

2008-04-01T22:55:00.003-04:00

South Africa was "beyond expectation" which is the translation of the Afrikaans title of this blog. It also happens to be a vineyard that went way beyond my expectations of what a vineyard could offer in terms of wine, food and ambiance. Every photo tells a story, but I'll just give you an inkling today of the great trip I had with Abbey's parents, her brother and three other friends of the family.

What was it like in CapeTown and environs, i.e. Stellenbosch, Franschoek, Agulas, Cape of Good Hope? Imagine the most beautiful place you've ever seen. Add water in the form of two oceans, throw in some mountains. Deep blue sky, clear air day after day. Foliage (fynbos) representative of the California coast, Spain, and a little Arizona. Voila! You have the combination. Hard to describe. I really want to go back and do more of the same.

The Martins lost no opportunity to test the vineyards. We started tasting early and kept going. My palate was challenged to try many varieties and it was such fun to be with oenophiles to help me along. Roommate Kelly (female!) and I enjoyed shopping on the Wharf, touring Kirstenbosch Gardens together. On our way back from the Cape of Good Hope we stopped to view the penguins just waddling around the rocky shore of False Bay.

Would love to go on, but for now I'm going to get this posted before leaving for the day and before the power cuts out again. I'll try to add photos on another post.

Captions: MeJane with Pat and Jane Martin in the Forest Reserve, Stellenbosch;

International Women's Day

2008-03-15T17:46:00.005-04:00

We haven't had power for five days out of the last seven, which is my main reason for not writing recently. I don't have any idea why it took so long for the utility company (Snel) to get it working again, but I won't ask questions as long as it stays on.

International Women's Day is not a big deal in the States, but it is here in Congo. The whole city of Kinshasa got into it this past week. There was a big parade and lots of festivities. The Protestant University (UPC) arranged for all of the women on staff to get matching outfits made by a local seamstress out of the same material. Each dress was a little different from the others. At first I was chagrined because I couldn't even zip my skirt up--it was so tight. Then Abbey showed up with hers, which seemed a little too roomy for her. We made the swap and proceeded to promenade with our Congolese sisters.

Included in the program were soccer games pitting all the faculties against the others: medical, economic, theology and law. A cookoff for traditional Congolese recipes took place today. An outdoor concert concluded the program.

In addition to the power being out, I've been busy teaching every day. I have also been hosting house guests. Bobbie and Phyllis were in the interior (Ludja) for several months and stopped in Kinshasa on their way back to Dayton, Ohio. Nothing too unusual about them except that Bobbie is an 80 year old who was trained as a pharmacist and explored creative ways to use her many gifts in Congo. After her husband died, she decided to come back on her own and see what she could do. Her friend, Phyllis, joined her and having never been to Africa before stepped out in faith and stuck it out with no power and no running water. While they were here, my power went out. I don't think they even noticed! I got word today that they are safely back in Dayton, although Phyllis missed her flight from Brussels to Newark because of only an hour layover. She would have made it, she said, except that someone died on the plane that caused the delay.

Well, I'm on my way tomorrow to CapeTown. I'll write about it when I get the chance. Thanks for tuning in. May you have a meaningful Palm Sunday and a blessed Easter.

Out of Congo

2008-03-01T11:57:00.008-05:00

As soon as I got on the airplane, I knew I was on vacation. The flight attendants were speaking English. When I landed in Johannesburg, South Africa, I felt like I had landed on another planet. Everything I encountered seemed to be a refreshing change.

Victoria Falls is situated between the two countries of Zambia and Zimbabwe. There is no way to describe the beauty and the power of the falls. It is one place where the word "awesome" fits. Photos are pretty skimpy on telling the whole story. One needs to hear the roaring sound of a gazillion gallons of water per second crashing hundreds of feet below and feel the sensation of being soaked to the skin by the spray. If you haven't been there yet, I hope you can go someday. I don't think it will run out of water any time soon.

On the world famous bridge that spans the two countries over the Zambezi River, we witnessed bungi jumpers throwing themselves out to fall over 300 feet actually going head first into the rushing water below. It was terrorizing just to watch from a safe distance. For those less (!) courageous, there's a zip line stretching across the gorge. No, I didn't even ask how much it would cost. Cheaper than a casket?

Friend Carole and I spent our first three nights at the Victoria Falls Hotel, a stately and elegant resort that has hosted the Queen of England and who knows who else. Our meals were included and we made sure we got our money's worth. Ostrich kabobs was one of our favorites; crocodile, pretty tasty; the cappuccino mousse, yummy; and the apple pudding hard to beat. Choices for breakfast included rich croissants or warm baking-powder biscuits. Guava turned up in many forms. Litchi fruit and fresh pineapple were regulars.

On our first afternoon there, we set sail on a sunset cruise. Much to our surprise, we encountered, among other animals in the wild, an overweight white male who chose to go "sans habilles." I'm saving that photo for an adult-only audience.

We took advantage of the luxurious pool, afternoon high tea and great wine. During dinner, traditional singers and dancers performed under the full moon. The temperature was ideal for being outdoors all day and night. No, I didn't get one mosquito bite. After the third night, we were chauffeured to Botswana, about two hours away, where we enjoyed a jeep safari in the late morning and a sunset cruise on the Chobe River. We saw a great variety of water fowl, monkeys and baboon galore, more elephants than people, tons of hippo, impala, kudu, water buffalo, crocodile, a couple of giraffe and one zebra. The cats were not visible due to the long grasses. FYI, Botswana is the size of Texas with a population of about 2.2 million.

We returned the next day to the Kingdom Hotel in Victoria Falls. We made fast work of spending some money on some of the local crafts, then headed back to Johannesburg where we spent an additional overnight and the next thing I knew I was back in Ndjili, the Kinshasa airport. Welcome back to the jungle.

Thanks so much for giving me the chance to share this fantastic experience with you.

Mama Mathilde

2008-02-18T04:19:00.007-05:00

Although I've talked about my neighbor, Mathilde, before (see "Still Life With Mangostan"), I didn't realize the length and breadth of her influence until Saturday night. She invited me to attend a wedding ceremony of her cousin Denys, who with his wife, Madeleine, and their six children wanted to have a sacred ceremony in the church. This is evidently fairly customary.

Mathilde and her husband picked me up and we drove to St. Leopold's, only a mile from the house. It's a grand old tan brick church, built by the Belgians before Independence (1961) with many arches extending to an elegant high ceiling. Beautiful tile covers the floor. It was decorated for the big event with ribbons and flowers. White satin covered the two chairs in front of the altar where the couple sat after their processional. The lifted cross and the Bible went down the aisle before them, supported by three white robed priests and several acolytes. The matron of honor was dressed in shocking pink, head to toe. All six children were dressed in off-white with touches of red. They threw hard candy out of baskets as they went down the aisle, making quite a racket as it hit the floor and wooden benches. The choir sang several powerful and harmonious pieces, accompanied by the key-board. The elements were distributed. The groom was invited to kiss the bride. They were presented to the congregation and we followed the recessional out of the church. Three photographers filmed throughout the entire ceremony from every vantage point possible.

On to the reception at Deny's home, the entrance of which is about 500 feet from my house. The compound covers several acres of land, which had been transformed to what would compare to a country club back home. Long tables were set up with chairs and linens for approximately 250 people. I noticed two other white people. A Congolese band was playing with the usual 125 decibel sound system. Drinks of every variety free-flowed all night, poured from glass bottles served in glassware. No plastic or throwaway anything except the napkins. The red wine was one of the best I've tasted here, Cote de France 2005, I believe. I'm guessing, but there must have been thirty preparations of Congolese food, from appetizers, vegetables to fish, beef, pork. There were the usual fried plaintains, doughnuts, shakwanga, banana "paste," and on it went. A giant screen showed the action being filmed on-site with a video camera. Before dinner, the bride and groom invited the guests to greet them and present their gifts. Following dinner, we danced. All open to the night sky.

When it was all over, Mathilde and two of her special friends walked me home. It was a very special evening.

Photo: Mama Mathilde and Madame Jane

Please note that MeJane plans to go on vacation this Wednesday, returning February 27. The next posting on Congo Scenes will occur in two weeks. Thank you for your prayers for her safety as she and friend Carole, fly to Johannesburg, South Africa where they will spend one night each way. Then on to Victoria Falls, which is situated between both Zimbabwe and Zambia. After several nights there they then take a bus to Chobe National Park, Botswana, for a safari.

Flat Tire: Not the Beer

2008-02-10T13:07:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago we bought a set of tires for the Pajero. We deliberated between buying the Cobras, a Congolese brand that were less expensive, and the more expensive imports from Japan or America. Because the Pajero is already 15 years old, we opted for the less espensive ones, paying around $850.00 USD. After having them mounted on the vehicle, our chauffeur calmly announced that we had made a poor choice, because Cobras are inferior quality and will last about six months. I thanked him for his opinion, but told him his timing was a little off.

Tires really take a hit here, due to the heat and multiple holes and rocks. You would think that in a city of 8 million people there would be one street that is nicely paved, but I haven't found it yet. It was no surprise this morning when Abbey text messaged me to say she'd be late picking me up for church because we had a slow leak in one of the tires. Fortunately, Lino was working today at the M&L and was able to put on the spare, advising Abbey to have the tire repaired later. We arrived in church about 11:30, just a few minutes after the service began, because of the usual 30 minute delay due to the French service before our's running way overtime. All is well.

After church a group of us decided to go out for lunch at a Portuguese restaurant. I had the 1/2 chicken, several people got the pizza, others got salads. It was air-conditioned.

On to the M&L where Lino gave us instructions to go down the block to a tire repair place, making sure that a Congolese gentleman got in the car with us in order to translate into Lingala for us. It was about 95 degrees outside. How do I describe this place? Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of the image in front of us at the tire shop. As you may know, photos are illegal in Congo, so I felt uncomfortable even sneaking a photo out my window to the left. The 20' x 20' space was filled with litter, crawling with people, chickens, music from the bar next door, kids carrying money, men carrying one-foot high stacks of hard boiled eggs on their heads, women carrying 24-bottle cases of beer and soda on their heads, women carrying trays of food on their heads. Nothing happens inside the buildings; all the work is performed outside. The sewer was right next to me. A young man, about twenty years old, got up from his table at the bar when he noticed Abbey (who doesn't notice a blond young mundele?) and with a big-toothed grin hung on her window and tried to talk with her. The owner yelled at him and told him to go away. He did. Then the Lingala guy hung on the window and insisted that we had to pay him because...because...because... We assured him we would pay him. Meanwhile, the drunk weirdo found a hard boiled egg and peeled it with his teeth, spitting out the shell in front of us and proceeded to eat it with his mouth open. He motioned to us, as if to say, "Wouldn't you like to share this with me?"

About 45 minutes later, the three small holes were patched for $2.00 each and we returned to M&L where Joseph mounted it on the car for another $5.00 and we were good to go. At least for today.

Photos: Scene next to the tire repair place; Joseph making the repair.

#6 Mukoka

2008-02-04T16:55:00.000-05:00

Photos: Front of residence; Big tree and tree house with zip-line; Veranda; Living room; Foyer. Note: I have no control over how these photos drop in. Sorry!

One of my faithful readers suggested that I write about my house, not just the plumbing. The house is constructed of mud/concrete blocks. It is surrounded by a lawn and minimal shrubbery. The lot is approximately 150 feet deep by 200 feet wide and completely walled in. A pale blue metal door swings open for you top enter the property. The driveway leads straight to a small out building used by the sentinels for sleeping and also for storage of extra equipment. The car is kept to the right of that building. Behind the parking space is the compost pile, as well as a burning pile.

Between the car and the house is a set of clotheslines for my domestique (Dicky) to use. He has an automatic washer. The house is typical for a tropical area: one level, no basement, tile roof. A lovely covered veranda faces the east off the living room. You enter the house through the covered porch and are in the foyer. To the left is the kitchen. To the right is the living room. Straight through the foyer is a hallway. Three bedrooms and a bathroom are to your left. To the far right is the master bedroom, the bathroom and little office.

Behind the house is another smaller building where the domestique and sentinels can take a shower, etc.

I’m in a residential neighborhood, with mostly Congolese, and at least one family of Caucasions. Around the corner is the Queen’s Restaurant, and a little further is the Belgian Horse Jumping Club. Lots of little shops/stalls fill the main street. Across the main street is a water filtration company, the Regideso. Next to that is a military camp where soldiers and their families live.

I hope this gives you a little better picture of my life here. "Home is where the heart is, in dwellings great and small, but its many a stately mansion that isn't a home at all."

Still Life with Mangostan

2008-01-27T07:20:00.000-05:00

The fruit in the photo is a mangostan. I had never heard of them before, much less seen or eaten one, until the sister of my landlord, Mathilde Biema, sent a bagful over. I have no idea how you spell it; I'm just going on the phonetics when the word is spoken. It has a hard deep purple casing around a thick pithy skin. Inside are clove-like sections of slippery juicy fruit with the taste of kiwi, strawberry and citrus. It grows on trees like apples.

Being the older sister of Louis Zulu, Mathilde has considerable influence on life in the community. I learned that when I casually mentioned to her that my plumbing was not up to par. Before the sentence was out of my mouth, she was on the phone talking in Lingala to Louis. Lingala must be a relatively direct language, because in less than 30 seconds she was off the phone and Louis was going to take care of it. When the plumber arrived the next day, he assessed the various problems and said he would order the necessary fixtures and return when he had them.

It wasn't long after that that he arrived with his associate carrying (!) a brand new toilet. It was installed and that night, I very proudly used it and flushed it and went to bed. When I woke up the next day, I stepped into about two inches of water across the floor. Evidently, a part had malfunctioned and the tank had continued to fill throughout the night. I called Mathilde, who sent the plumber over who within a short time had it fixed. It has been working well ever since.

A few days later, the plumber arrived with a new faucet for the kitchen sink. It took him all day to install it because of the severe corrosion that he needed to clean out in order to increase the water pressure. That night, as I was doing dishes and admiring its functionality, there was a "pop!" and a sudden gush of water from a broken part. I called Mathilde. Within minutes the plumber arrived to shut the water off and promised to return the next day, which unfortunately happened to be a Congolese holiday commemorating the assassination of Lumumba. He was the first Prime Minister following independence from Belgium in 1961. The plumber repaired the faucet and while he was here, I had him take a look at the toilet in the second bathroom which had looked suspicious to me, and several others, for a few days. He and his colleague agreed that something needed to be done, so they worked until after 5:00 pm getting that toilet up to speed.

I could have shown you "Still life with toilet" or "Still life with faucet" but I thought this one was the better choice. Till the next time, thank you for keeping in touch through Congo Scenes.

Down on the Farm

2008-01-20T17:19:00.000-05:00

PHOTO CAPTIONS: Extracting palm oil from fruit; Paul and Emil; Shakwanga (cooked cassava); Cassava roots (raw); Carole and Jane chow down.

Last week, Carole, Abbey and I were invited to Paul Meteta's for a picnic. Paul is Congolese, works for the embassy, and is very Americanized. Two of his kids are studying in the U.S. He got his own degree in environmental science from a university in South Africa. Paul and his wife Mary own a 15 hectare farm about an hour's drive from here, maybe about 20 miles away on some tough roads.

Paul uses solar power for the bulk of his energy needs. He is in the process of installing a water wheel system to utilize the resources off a small creek that feeds into the Congo River. He has several fishing ponds that he maintains. The locals work his land for the cassava (manioc in Lingala) crop, the most popular produce in Congo, not only the roots, but also for the leaves. The mature roots are harvested, then boiled in water for three days to get rid of the poison in them. Then they can be served as shakwanga or dried, then pounded into a powder which is made into a flat bread, called foufou. Cassava is a staple in the Congolese diet because it is so filling, regardless of the food value. The cassava leaves are pounded into a mixture called pondu, then cooked with palm oil and served as a green vegetable. Palm oil is a highly desirable product and sold for $20.00 a litre.

More about Christmas II

2008-01-13T16:40:00.001-05:00

Consider this theme epiphany, which is not too far from the truth. I want you readers to know that I received a boatload of Christmas cards this week through my friend Abigail, who just returned from the states. Evidently, someone I know and love cleverly figured out that I could be the recipient of letters, just like the shut-ins. I could not believe my eyes when Abbey dropped off the package. I haven't counted, but I'm sure I've got at least 100 cards to open. Well, now maybe only 50 left to open. I can't begin to tell you how much fun it is to OPEN MAIL! I am just loving all the great wishes and Christmas greetings. So what if its the middle of January? I hope the senders don't all expect a reply, or I'm in trouble! I will just say from the blog, that I am thrilled to be given such an outpouring of love. It is so encouraging. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!

Photo: Three of the many members at Second CRC who have been praying for me and staying in touch via email and letters (from left): Barb Holtrop, Shirley Shaver, and Dottie Sikkema.

Need a door?

2008-01-13T15:41:00.000-05:00

Driving around town, I'm impressed by the number of objects for sale in Kinshasa. Venders sell their wares right on the busy streets of Kinshasa. Everyday they peddle their merchandise by hand carrying: men's suits, socks, shoes, clocks, maps, food items, puppies, and kittens. During the Christmas season, they handled blow-up Santa Clauses. Yesterday, while I was taking a walk, a group of guards were selling a lizzard on a leash. Along the Huileries Blvd. is a medical supply store: 8 to 10 fairly decent wheelchairs are in full view, totally exposed to the dirt and rain only about 3 feet from the street. They also sell walkers, canes and handicap railings if you need them. Another shop displays a variety of toilets and a series of hand-designed mosaic sinks in their front space. Pots, pans, cutlery, trinkets of all sorts are occasionally available. And why not? What is the reason that stuff has to be purchased from inside a building? Think about it. Being 4 degrees below the equator, the weather is usually warm enough to not need protection from the cold. People have plenty of time to look at your merchandise while they sit in the traffic jams. If they see what they like and they have money to buy it, it's theirs! Note the accompanying photo of the local lumber yard, complete with a new door. Do you need a new door for your house? If so you had better grab it while it's available, or you may miss the chance to get one. Pay for it and it will be delivered on foot to your address. If you don't have enough money, a piece of fabric will work just as well. In the market for a car door? (As in your car door is missing.) You may choose from this great selection of automobile doors and windshields. If your funds are limited, tape over the open space. It might not be as convenient, but it serves the same purpose.

Faux Pas (Mistake)

2008-01-06T14:26:00.000-05:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

What better time to share a little humility? As I may have mentioned, the streets of Kinshasa are all lined with sewer "holes." Although they vary in size, they are usually about one foot wide by about eight feet long, running parallel the long way with the street. They are about two or three feet deep. Occasionally they will be covered with a grate, but for the most part, the grates are stolen and used for any number of practical items: hibachi grills, undersides of cars, bed springs, etc. The above photo gives you an idea of how well a hole can be camouflaged. Especially at night in the rain.

This story took place when I was in Lubumbashi, in the begining of December. Fellow English teacher, Carole, and I had just had a great schwarma dinner at Katanga Fried Chicken (yes, it is KFC!) when I made the grave error of trying to run across a busy street back to my hotel. As I approached the opposite side of the street, my left foot went down, but kept on going and I found myself careening into the side of the cement with my right leg. I hollered at Carole, who was a few steps ahead of me. She turned around and didn't see me right away because I was no longer on street level. After realizing what happened, she wasted no time in dragging me out of the hole in case one of the many vehicles whizzing by would choose that moment to drive over me! I appreciated the intent, but I was in so much pain, that I started feeling very lightheaded. Thinking I would keel over any second, she got me to the lobby of the hotel where I lay down on the sofa. The hotel receptionists were totally aghast, primarily because I was full of sewer yuck and blood and they didn't want that over the lobby! They offered to take off my shoes and socks and wash them for me, which I let them do.

After a bit, I hobbled up to my room and assessed the damages. A badly scraped right shin, and two incredibly sore hips, especially the left. I used everything I could to clean the wound, putting antibiotic ointment on it and bandaids. For the pain I alternated ibuprofin and aleve every 4 hours, threw in a sleeping pill for good measure and held cold coke and beer cans on all sore spots at 20 minute intervals. I was actually able to sleep for a while and wonder of wonders walked out of there (albeit slowly!) on my own power the next morning. The health update, now a month later, is that my hips seem to be just fine and the shin wound, which I found out later warranted stitches, is healing nicely. It has not gotten infected, but I really babied it along by using only bottled water, kept it covered, etc.

I learned a bundle of lessons from that experience. One is that I'm paranoid about walking in the dark now, which is probably not a bad thing here. I always take a flashlight with me, just in case. I don't ever run across the street anymore, even if it's daylight. While I'm walking, I don't look up a whole lot--usually try to watch where my feet are going. And I thank God for every day He gives me without a major misshap!

A little lighter faux pas has to do with Abigail Martin. I was talking to the Rector's assistant at UPC about Abbey going home for Christmas, lamenting being "sans Abbey" during the holidays. He just looked at me strangely and then asked Abbey (in French) why I was going to be running around with no clothes on over the holidays. Evidently "sans Abbey" sounds just like "sans habille" which of course means "without clothes." Hmmm. What next?

More about Christmas

2007-12-29T10:40:00.000-05:00

I can't seem to get off the Christmas theme. Let me include a couple of images from this past week. The photo on the left shows Beacham, proudly displaying his efforts. His mother, Katya, the Public Affairs Officer (PAO) had invited me over to make cookies with her, Beacham and his sister, Hannah. The recipes included Florentines, sugar cookies, the famous peanut butter balls, gingerbread men, and oatmeal raisin cookies.

The top photo is Juliet Weibe delivering a wheel chair to a 17 year-old boy, the grandson of the man who worked as a chef for her parents when they lived here back in the 50's and 60's. I'll talk more about Juliet later, but she was born and raised in Congo until the family had to leave in 1967. Her father started TASOK, the American school near my home, in 1961. Juliet knew about this young man who was born with hydroencephalitis and has never been able to move on his own power and determined to give him a little mobility with a first-rate set of wheels. Talk about a Christmas to remember!

The photo on the right is what greeted us at church last Sunday, following he French service, which precedes the English service. These kids were all singing Christmas songs with all the gusto they could muster.

As hard as it is to be away from friends and family during this special Season, I feel richly blessed to have been able to experience Christmas here. I feel at peace and am thankful for the people that continue to affirm me and my work of teaching English to people who are eager to learn it. As I look back over the past two years, I can see God's guiding hand on my life, from getting my master degree in ESL, going to the TESOL meeting in Seattle, where I heard about this program. Applying, being accepted, and sent here. Who would have guessed? Again, I thank all of you for your part in this bigger picture. I'm sure I would not be in this frame of mind without your support and prayers. I don't know what the new year will bring, but I am confident that he who began a good work in me, will be faithful to complete it.

May I use that as a benediction for you as well? That God will also do his mighty work in all of us--to move us, slowly, gently, toward himself. And in time, he will perfect the work that he has begun. Blessings to you all! I think this is probably the last of the official Christmas blogging, but unofficially, I hope to hang on to the spirit of Christmas, long after the last peanut butter ball disappears.

Abigail Martin

2007-12-23T03:49:00.001-05:00

Photo: Abigail Martin and Lino (pronounced "Leno"), the sweet M & L Gas Station attendant, and one of many Congolese who have already proposed to Abigail.

Let me introduce you to Abigail Martin. I've mentioned her before, but need to give you a little more information about her and her mission here in Kinshasa. She represents "Giving Back to Africa" (GBA), an NGO dedicated to the long-term mission of educating young people in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Its goal is to empower GBA benefieciaries through service-centered education who will in turn become leaders who will make significant changes in their local communities and throughout the nation.

Before she left on Thursday to go back to her home near Bloomington, IN, Abbey wrote me a letter that represents the kind of person she is. She writes:
...I write like the little bits of conversation that come out during our morning coffee (we are after all Americans).
1) I will miss your friendship, advice, perspective and willingness to "wait" it out with me. As the French say, tu me manques...you are missing from me; I am lacking you.
2) Have faith in yourself! Your French is so improved, your first class in the medical school is going GREAT. You're driving, you're finding your way around this sprawling city and you've been able to meet expectations and set standards and consistently uphold them at home and at work.
3)You're part of a community here: church, Carole, CALI, the Embassy, UPC, Tasok, Kulungus, students, faculty...it continues to grow!
4) The news from back home affirms your life and work here...
5) Mosala malamu**. Work well.
6) Lala malamu**. Sleep well.
7) Do your hostess thing--you're great at it!
8) Ask and you shall receive Ask questions until you find the answers.
9) Remember to balance all that self-critique...don't give it up because it's one of the things I love most about you, how you're so open to that kind of personal reflection. But them zoom out, way out...!
10) Take pictures. (Not in front of police!)
11) Write! Say it! All of it!
12) Jane Eyre prayer from Thanksgiving Day when we both cried together, comforted by one another and yet lonely for our families and friends back home:
"Worn out with this torture of thought, I rose to my knees. Night was come, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night: too serene for the companionship of fear. We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presenve most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us; and it is in the unclouded night-sky where His worlds wheel their silent course that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence. I had risen to my knees to pray for Mr. Rochester. Looking up, I, with tear-dimmed eyes, saw the mighty Milky Way. Remembering what it was--what countless systems there swept space like a soft trace of light-I felt the might and strength of God. Sure was I of His efficiency to save what He had made: convinced I grew that neither earth should perish nor one of the souls it treasured. I turned my prayer to thanksgiving: the Source of Life was also the Savior of spirits. Mr. Rochester was safe: he was God's and by God would he be guarded. I again nestled to the breast of the hill; and ere long in sleep forgot sorrow."
13) Malembe, malembe**. Slowly, slowly.
14) Merry Christmas, Jane, and Happy New Year. Just think of it! What a year to put away! And the one coming! I look forward to sharing it with you.
Sending you much love and many thanks for being you,
Abbey

And I say the same to you all: Sending you much love and many thanks for being you,
Jane
**Lingala, the local tribal language

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

2007-12-16T09:33:00.000-05:00

Christmas 2007

Dear Friends and Family,

Forgive the traditional form letter, but writing a personal card via USPS from Kinshasa is not an option. First and foremost, I want you to know that I appreciate you more than I will ever be able to tell you on this blog. I wish I could give you a giant hug! All I can do is send you my heart-felt wishes for a very blessed Christmas and a 2008 that is filled with God's presence.

I don't know how the rest of my time here will play out, but in reality, no one knows any more than that from one day to the next. Or one minute to the next. We are totally dependent on God's grace. What mercy He constantly shows us!

This will be a strange Christmas for me. I am grateful to have found a church home, and have no doubt that I will celebrate with others who are without family, etc. The worship service this morning was a confirmation of God's powerful promise, providing the inspiration from Romans 11:33 & 36: "Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways...For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen."

Hallelujah!

With my love,
Jane

A Working Vacation

2007-12-12T14:30:00.003-05:00

Lubumbashi is a breath of fresh air compared to Kinshasa. For one thing, it offers cooler temperatures. It's not so dusty and dirty. The traffic isn't nearly as bad, with only one million people instead of eight. There's less harrassment by police. More space in general. A South African influence in its restaurants and hotels. I felt like i was on vacation, which I really was, except that we were working at least 10 hours every day. But at night, Carole and I went out to some great restaurants: Chinese, Greek, Lebonese, and Italian. We stayed in two hotels, both first class, complete with running HOT water and air conditioning. And, I didn't get one mosquito bite. It was a great reprieve.
Following our interviewing of 18 candidates and the selection of 10, we trained them on the teaching methods of the Congo American Language Institute. Starting in January, 100 high school students, chosen from 340 applicants, will be awarded English training through the Access Program of the U.S., complete with teacher and books. Following their 18 months, they should be relatively fluent in English.
There's another difference between Kinshasa and Lubumbashi. People there are crying for English because their martkets are in Zambia and South Africa, just south of the DRC border. Everyone was so excited about talking with a native speaker. Back in Kinshasa, English doesn't seem to have the same importance. Students know they should be learning it, but it doesn't seem like such an urgent need.
Caption for photo: Chantal, Marcellin and Claude share a book during the Teacher Training. Each one has a story to tell.

"Socks"

2007-12-08T14:01:00.000-05:00

Hi there. I"m back home again after a great week in Lubumbashi. I hope to give you a synopsis of my experience there soon. Since I had this story on file, I thought I'd use it for today. I wish you all a wonderful Second (already!) Sunday in Advent. Even though I miss my home church, I'm really enjoying attending the International Protestant Church of Kinshasa. It's in English!

Let me introduce you to Socks, best friend of Dean, the previous renter in my home. Socks, sadly, was the product of an incestuous relationship and is genetically predisposed to being "unique." When I arrived, Dean moved out into a nearby guest house, but couldn't take the dog with him. For two weeks, every afternoon, Dean would take his daily walk up the hill to feed Little Socks and give him a little attention. He never put the canine on a leash because, “Socks isn’t really the type of dog you’d want to put on a leash.” Read=African Dog. Socks got a kick out of nipping at you as you walked from the car to the house, and had an unlimited capacity for barking at the frequent sounds of the night.

Dean was down to his final days. He investigated all the requirements for taking an animal on the flight back to the States. He even considered boarding a ship in order to avoid Socks being in cargo for two days of flying. But that idea wasn't realistic from here, so he determined to fly. He hired someone to build him a dog cage out of wood and chicken wire. On the day they were scheduled to leave he lured Socks into the new cage with cooked chicken, then chauferred him to the Memling Hotel, where cage and dog were weighed in. So far so good, just a couple hundred bucks for a dog-shipping ticket.

After a couple of hours of waiting at home, they reloaded Socks into the cage and left with Pierre, the chauffeur, for good. My last words to Pierre were, “I don’t care what you do with him, but whatever you do, don’t bring "le chien" back here!” When they arrived at the airport, they were informed that the wooden cage was not acceptable. Dean would have to purchase a metal one, which conveniently was available. For a fee, of course. Dean obliged. Dean finally got the go-ahead for boarding and was asked to identify his luggage. He does so, but fails to target Socks and the cage. Fortunately, Pierre did not leave his post and was watching as Dean boarded. He saw all the luggage except the lonely dog in cage get loaded. Poor Socks! Pierre, as he has done many times, rushed to the rescue and asked the attendants to get Dean back out of the plane to load the dog in.

I’m happy to say that Socks survived the ordeal. However, you can take the dog out of Africa but you can’t take the Africa out of the dog. Dog gone.

By the Light of the Moon, If There Was One

2007-12-01T16:06:00.000-05:00

Writing by the light of five candles makes me think of a couple of historical figures. One is Abe Lincoln, who is purported to have read by the light of a candle as a child. One candle would not cut it for someone like me with presbyopia. Five is the bare minimum. The other person is Thomas Alva Edison, who among other accomplishments, developed the technology that uses electrical energy to manufacture light. I can understand why a 70 watt bulb is like 70 candles burning. I would like to have 70 “bougies” burning right now. I have enough reserve power on the laptop to write and I’ll load this onto the blog later when the power goes back on. It could be soon, or it could be tomorrow. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’ll write and keep the refrigerator door closed. I have eaten dinner, which consisted of an interesting conglomeration of navy beans, eggplant, tomato, onion and green pepper, accompanied by a great vin rouge. Dessert was a Dutch windmill cookie with a cup of strong Belgian cafe.

The Embassy is sending me on my first get-away. I leave for Lubumbashi, Congo, on Sunday to help Carole, my previous roommate, interview 18 candidates for her new CALI (Congo American Language Institute) program. I am being accompanied by Dr. Mubangu Itangaza (see photo) who is the Teacher Coordinator (T.C.) for the CALI here in Kinshasa. He has been a teacher here for over 40 years, and the T.C. for 10. Other assets include being able to speak Lingala and French, and who knows what other language (s). He knows the Lubumbashi area well, having spent six years there earlier in his career. He has a wealth of hiring/firing experience and I am so grateful that he is the one who has agreed to help get this job done. After the eight teachers are chosen, we hope to train them in the days that follow. We return to Kinshasa on Saturday, the 8th.

I hear that Lubumbashi is quite nice and a relief from the congestion of Kinshasa. Although I’m looking forward to a little change of scenery, the timing for this isn’t the best because I’m expecting two women to arrive here from Grand Rapids on Monday night. One is a surgical resident who spent some time here while her Dad was a missionary, the other is the daughter of a former headmaster of TASOK, the American school close to my house where I go swimming, etc. Because this is not new territory for them, I’m sure they’ll be fine, but I feel a little funny taking off just before they get here. I will, however, see them when I return, as they will be here for three weeks total, and just two with me. I’ll make sure that Dicky, my “garcon de la maison” has things in good order for them.

My teaching, you ask? Oh, no big deal. Just canceled the classes. Of course. Why not? TIA. This is Africa.

LOL: Life of Leisure

2007-11-28T15:37:00.000-05:00

About a quarter of a mile away from my house is the Cercle Hippique de Kinshasa. Last weekend, I had the fun of attending my first-ever horse jumping competition there. The contestants were from five different countries: Belgium, Zimbabwe, Congo, South Africa and Kenya. I took a few photos and am curious to see if I shrink one down small enough if I can get it to load from here. If not, let me tell you that the photo I want to display is of the winner of the first round, a small white horse named Cookie, almost a pony, that seemed to jump straight up like a frog. Its rider was a petite gal who had total control.

I'm really getting into the txt messaging (note the title of this blog), primarily because it doesn't require any cost to the sender. We often need to communicate just quick messages. Cell time is so expensive that conversations are kept to a minimum. It is not unusual to observe conversations that just end with no goodbyes--just stop. I have been the recipient of "the beep" too, in which the sender sends the call signal and then immediately hangs up so they don't get charged, but he/she is expecting me to call them back and consequently pay for the call. I quickly learned to not respond to "the beep." If somebody wants to talk, he/she may call and pay the price.

Most of you who read this blog know that I can be a little obsessive about watching Mystery! on PBS. If you try to call me during a Mystery! show, I will usually not answer because who can miss any of the clues in Miss Marpel mysteries or any of the other fabulous detective stories? I'm totally hooked and have to admit that I still have withdrawal symptoms when Sunday night comes around. However, I am happy to report that the previous renter of this house must have been a mystery afincianado, too, and has a well-stocked library of not only Agatha Christie, but the wonderful Dorothy Gilman (Mrs. Polifax series is my personal favorite) as well as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Dorothy Sayers and Ellis Peters. If that weren't enough to read, there's even Luci Shaw's poetry. Give me a good book, a cup of African Red Bush tea (compliments of daughter Grace!) add some electrical power for lights and I am good for a long night.

Raise Your Hand/Voice

2007-11-23T16:09:00.000-05:00

Wednesday and Thursday, I taught my first two groups of twenty-five medical students. These students are on par with freshmen in college in the states, but on a medical school track. The entire class of 200 is broken up into sections so no one seemed to know where to go for these first few days. Throughout the first hour of my class, students entered the room, assuming they were registered for my class. If they weren't, I had to ask them to leave, which was not easy, not only because I had to tell them in French.
The classroom itself is made up of block construction with open windows around the top of three walls. Students mill around all sides of this room and make plenty of extraneous noise. In order to be heard, I need to raise my voice. I should have used that as an example of a present tense verb, "raise my voice" which was part of my first lesson for what are mostly beginner English students. A few of them know quite a lot of English. Figuring out how difficult to make the lesson is challenging. I have 15 weeks, one day each week, to teach these kids as much English as I can. The books have not arrived yet. Perhaps I'm optimistic in thinking they will get here in time to use them? So I use a black chalk board that has a few cracks running through it. The erasure is well used, leaving a streak of white behind it. Four ceiling fans hum above us, contributing to the noise pollution, but do make a difference in ventilation. The art of teaching is a learning process!

Last night, the Public Affairs Officer (PAO) invited me and 21 others over to celebrate Thanksgiving in grand style. After watching American football (the armed forces network) on a flat screen TV, sipping one of the best margaritas I've ever had and munching potato pancakes, she presented four perfectly roasted turkeys, mashed potatoes, succotash, dressing, gravy, a fabulous pear/candied walnut salad, and even Brussel sprouts (Belgian Congo, remember?). The best part, as is back home, was the dessert selection: Pumpkin and apple pies, mincemeat tarts with plenty of whipped cream. Everything was homemade with a little help from Willy, the chef, and his crew. As wonderful as it was, I still couldn't help having a little lump in my throat thinking about all my friends and family that I'm missing. I'm terribly thankful for you all.

"The Road Not Taken"

2007-11-14T15:28:00.000-05:00

The title of this blog is from the poem by Robert Frost. Kinshasa is a city with many forks in the road. However, very few roads have actual names. If they do have a name, there may not be a street sign to tell you where you are. There are no maps of the streets. There are no phone books. There are no numbers on the stores or houses. There is no mail service. And it is a city of 8 million people. How does one get around? By landmarks, of course. The Mercedes dealership. The statue of Mobutu. The Vodacom (cell phone) shop. The Jewish store. The River. The Grand Hotel. The pharmacie. How do I describe where I live? Take Kasa Vubu, through Kintambo, then go up the Mobuto Hill and follow the Matadi Road (it leads to the city of Matadi on the ocean) past TASOK (the American School). When you pass the triangle, watch for the Queen's Restaurant on the left and the Water Company called Regideso, on your right, Take the next left. I'm at #6 Mukoku. When you arrive at the gate, honk and Ndambele will open it up for you. Easy, eh?

So what do you get when you use a poem like Frost's in a class here and ask, have you ever stood at the fork in the road and had to decide which road to take? For one, you get a 25-ish young man who says he had to choose between staying with his family in the war torn Kivu area where he had a job and moving to the Kinshasa where he could go to school. You get a young woman who made a decision to leave her Muslim husband because he didn't treat her well. You get a 30-ish woman who completed her law degree and can't find a job here, and desparately wants to obtain custody of her deceased sister's young children from the Netherlands. You get a soft spoken son of a pastor whose sister is in medical school both of whose lives were spared because they were able to get on the second of three planes out of the war torn east in 1996. His cousins were not so fortunate and were delayed on the third plane. The stories go on.

"And I--I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference."

Philosophy of the automobile

2007-11-11T04:35:00.000-05:00

Closing my last blog post with a lament for the Honda I left in Michigan is a perfect segwe to my subject today. I've always held the position that cars are a necessary evil. My philosophy holds true here in Congo. Abbey Martin, fellow American colleague at UPC, and I have been sharing the joys and sorrows of a 15 year-old Mitsubishi Pajero. It is a jeep-like creature that has been our life-blood for work, play and everything in between. I'm getting used to driving right-side steering wheel on the right side of the road, during the low traffic times to places that are familiar and safe for travel. For all other occasions, we contract Pierre, the chauffeur who I "inherited" from my rental predecessor.

Problems began a week ago, on Saturday at 7:15 a.m. when Pierre arrived to get the car and then transport Abbey to class. She teaches every Saturday, which sounds really foreign, but that's just the way education is here. Unfortunately, the car wouldn't start--the battery was dead. No cables available. But resourceful as he is, Pierre was able to secure a "new" battery for $115.00, which I assumed would be reimbursed by the University, who holds the title to the car. That night, while I was driving to a little rendezvous in a great Greek restaurant, (great is a relative term), the automatic steering went out. If you don't know what that feels like, all I can say is that my wrists are still recovering from the trauma of trying to turn the wheel. Again, we assumed that the university would pay for the repairs. However, there is evidently a parallel to the protocal that the renter pays for repairs on A/C, painting, appliances, etc. Similarly, the owners of the car assumed that someone else would be paying for maintenance and repairs.

Throughout last week, negotiations were scheduled starting with low level reps from both the embassy and the university, to the climax on Thursday when the PAO of the embassy and the rector of UPC met in order to determine who was going to pay for the $550.00 for the steering repairs. Neither party seemed willing to compromise. Abbey and I felt caught in the middle, but were not willing to take the brunt financially either. On Friday, we finally had a break through with UPC who was willing to go 50% with the two of us. We brought the car in and it was repaired in good order. I wish that was the end of the story. After shopping around town yesterday in preparation for a party I had last night, we decided to buy gasoline. How many of you would know that a Pajero takes Diesel? We asked the attendant who confirmed it took gasoline. And, yes, we did put $50.00 worth in the tank, only to stall out a few blocks away. Fortunately, we followed the Congolese example, limping along and finally got out and pushed it through the gate where it rests today. Three Lingala speaking mechanics are syphoning the gas out as I write. They poured it into 2 bright colored plastic diaper pails and will hand carry them on foot four blocks away where they will let it settle and then skim the gasoline off the top for my friend Pascal. We will ask Pierre fill it up and change the filter tomorrow.

Mundele! Mundele!

2007-11-03T05:05:00.000-04:00

During the 20 minute walk to TASOK (the American School of Congo; K-12) where I go for an occasional swim, the little children (adorable!) of the military families shout this greeting to me. White person! White person! I am, so far, still the only Caucasion on the road and they watch for me to pass by. They seem a little fearful, and will laugh and run away when I say "Bonjour. Ca va?" For the most part, all the adults are very pleasant and friendly. Occasionally, I'll get a weird look, but nothing dramatic. TASOK owns 43 acres of well-kept grounds surrounded by guarded walls. I feel rejuvenated after a long swim in their large pool.
The students cannot get enough English. I'm encouraging them to talk to the University about offering some additional classes geared for beginners. Dr. Mpunsa, Dean of the the Medical School just arrived from Europe last week and will meet with me this Wednesday about what he is expecting from my classes, which begin November 12. It is my understanding that I'll be teaching four different groups of 25 students every day (M-Th), two beginner English and two more focused on basic medical English. of advanced for 15 weeks.
English Club is organizing a debate tournament. The students have never participated in debate before and are very excited about it. They plan to use the same topic as debate teams in the U.S. high schools: "Should the U.S. increase public health aid to sub-Saharan Africa?" The embassy is providing coaches to work with each team. As of yesterday, 15 teams had signed up. My role is to be the liaison between the embassy and the students.
Although it's not my favorite thing, I've been doing some more driving in the Mitsubishi. I sure miss my Honda Accord, but it wouldn't last here. Take good care of it, Grace and Jon. Consider the use of it while I'm gone your collective birthday present, OK? Which, by the way are happening for both of you this week. Happy Birthday to you both, and an extra special #30 to Jon! Wish I could be there--maybe next year!

Goats, Flooding, Etc.

2007-10-28T11:03:00.000-04:00

I know I haven't written on Congo Scenes for a whole week. I apologize, especially for leaving you with an emotional downer. I was struggling with the distance between us, but I am happy to report that once Sunday passed, I was back to my regular self. Thank you to everyone who wrote to encourage me.

Here's a brief glimpse into last week. Picture this: I'm on the way to work, and just ahead of us in traffic, is a beat up, rusted-out, no windows bus, probably half the size of a standard school bus. It was jammed with people. On top of the bus was the usual stack of canvas-wrapped boxes, stuff, whatever. Next to this pile, were three live goats leashed to the baggage, trying their best to not fall off with every lurch of the bus. I whipped out my little camera, only to discover that there were 7 or 8 more goats strapped to the rear of the baggage. If I hadn't gotten the photo, you probably wouldn't believe it!

On Thursday night we had a terrible rain storm. Severe flooding occured in many areas surrounding the Kinshasa area. I took my Canon with me to work on Friday and took some random photos out the window of the car. The damage was really devasting to the flimsy construction.

Friday afternoon Abbey, fellow colleage, and I took our Mitsubishi out for my first test drive. It's steering wheel is on the right (British), but the roads are all like the states, so I felt a little dyslexic. I was able to manuever around the stalled vehicles, multiple holes in the road and various bottle necks of people and traffic. Pretty cool, eh?

The English Club watched "Blood Diamond" yesterday at the Embassy. Although it is a difficult film to watch, it is well-done and shows quite accurately what some of the issues are here in Africa. I was surprised that the students seemed to appreciate its message. My primary teaching lesson this week revolved around a monolingual English Dictionary of American English, complete with CD-Rom. Teachers and students alike were very eager to obtain one for themselves. A good dictionary is a rare commodity. I probably could have sold 200 of them.

Oh, one more thing that I need to post on this blog. The U.S. State Department has requested that we issue a disclaimer in its behalf, that it is not affilitated with this blog and is not responsible for its content. There you have it. Best to you this week.

Barber's Concerto for Violin

2007-10-21T12:14:00.000-04:00

Before today, I hadn't even thought about listening to my ipod. It's very odd to be alone after a month of having a "pal" to keep company with. Sadly, my English teacher & friend, Carole, took off for Lubumbashi yesterday afternoon. She had a ticket stating the departure would be 6:00 p.m. Luckily, Bravo Airlines called her the day before she was supposed to leave to inform her that the flight time was changed to 1:00 pm instead. She arrived at the airport in plenty of time to learn that the 1:00 pm flight was canceled. She was told to hang around in case they turned up a plane. Fortunately, they did and she actually took off around 4:00. I just talked with her to learn that she was getting settled in her new surroundings. Barber's Concerto seemed like the right mood music for being alone this afternoon.

My new roommate, Perie, short for Peregrine, arrived last night. She's been studying in Paris for the last 2 + years, and is originally from Kansas. She'll be working with Ben to produce a drama on HIV/AIDS that they plan to have broadcast on television here. I'm on assignment from the embassy to help them. From the sound of the conversation at dinner last night, maybe I could carry their equipment? They must be all of 30 years old, if that, and have seen every movie and heard every band you could mention. They've also traveled the world over and yes, they are very nice "kids" too. Ben walked here (over an hour away) this morning to pick up Perie. They left on foot about 11:00 and I haven't seen them since. Barber is a good choice for being alone.

The hardest part about today is that as I write I am missing the baptism of Sadie Grace Houston. I'm feeling very sad to miss it, but I believe that God will bless her and in His own gracious way will shine His love into her life. Barber is a good compliment to this mixture of emotions. I am so thankful for your many messages to me. I have been here exactly one month. If the rest go as quickly as this one has, the time will go fast. Till the next time, I think of you all often with joy and fondness. Stay in touch.

Coincidence?

2007-10-17T16:50:00.000-04:00

I taught my first class today as an elective to students from the English Club that wanted to attend. There was no charge to the students and there will be no grading. I had about 35 students show up, only one female. I talked about syllables, the basic unit of our words. If English learners get that, they're probably going to be understood. I focused on the difference in sounds between words like care/careful/carefully. Although it seems so natural to us English speakers, it is not easy for French speakers to hear the stress on the first syllable in words like these. They naturally pronounce them with the stress on the last syllable which throws us off in understanding. Unfortunately, we have lazy listening skills. I'm using a favorite text of mine: No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency as a resource. If you haven't read the series by Alexander McCall Smith, I highly recommend it for fun reading. This class will meet just once a week for 4 weeks. Then I'll start teaching at the medical school.

Abbey (from Bloomington, IN) and I share an office at UPC. She's working for an NGO, teaching a service-learning course to a couple of Congolese students. You may know that I did my master's thesis on service-learning.

Carole (from NW Iowa) leaves Saturday for Lubambashi, Congo, where she's going to set up a Congo American Language Institute (CALI) based on the model here in Kinshasa. She's been a great housemate for me and I'll miss having her company, but I just got word yesterday that there are two Embassy workers needing a place to live for awhile. The Public Affiars Officer (PAO) asked me if I'd consider letting them share my space. I'm sure it could be coincidence, but I believe God is the orchestrator of even this detail.

I was given a "Courtesy Call" to meet the Chargee--the interim ambassador for Congo--on Tuesday. The official U.S. ambassador arrives in a few weeks. He is from Holland, Michigan, about 20 minutes away from my home town of Grand Haven. He graduated from Calvin College, Grand Rapids. Although I didn't graduate from there, I attended there the same years he was there. Coincidence again? Not a chance.

Two Ways of Seeing

2007-10-14T09:31:00.000-04:00

Annie Dillard talks about two ways of seeing in her Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Yesterday at the English Club of UPC (Protestant University of Congo), the topic for discussion was, "Women in Congolese Culture." My eyes were opened to seeing from the Congolese perspective. The group of approximately twenty persons was comprised of five women, three expatriates, myself included. The discussion went from 12:45 to 2:15 and would have gone longer if possible. Because the reps from the Embassy weren't there, I was asked to kick-off the discussion. I began by talking about women's issues in the States. For most of us, we are given opportunities to study and learn what we want to do. We have families that support us in our endeavors. We are able to meet the challenges that face us and in most cases overcome the obstacles that stand in our way. My life is a case in point. As my children were growing up, I was able to work part time and be "Mom" around the home. When faced with a divorce and creating a career for myself, I was able to go back to school and obtain a master's degree in ESL. There were jobs for me when I was finished. I'm here in Congo working as a teacher being paid by the U.S. government (Thank you all for paying my salary!).

The young men and women in the English Club have little or no promise for their futures. Without a doubt, they are bright and ambitious. They are thoughtful and articulate. But they are without money and unemployment is escalating. If they have any money they are obligated to share it with their families. Several of the men in the Club took the view that women should not be in the work force, but stay home with the children. This attitude stems from their interpretation of the Bible. As you can imagine, the women in the group had a different perspective on the "submission texts." I fortunately was able to remain calm in order to moderate the conversation.

Next Wednesday, I will start my first class with some of these students. It's not an official class, but an elective for anyone who wants to be there. I have no idea how many will be there or what kind of a response I'll get.

Another highlight of the week was visiting the American School of Congo (TASOK). It originated in 1961 and is now the educational center to 230 K-12 students, children of U.S. officials, NGO's and wealthy Congolese. It is within walking distance from my house and is situated on 42 acres of very nicely kept grounds. I am given privileges to walk on the property, which is really a huge blessing because walking on the streets is alot like walking the streets after the Coast Guard parade.

One more thing: Daughter Grace tried to mail me something this week and called to my attention that once again I had put the wrong address down for the APO box. My apologies--my mailing address is:
Jane DeGroot
Unit 31550
U.S. Embassy Kinshasa
APO AE 09828-1550

I'll keep trying till I get it right. FYI: I have edited it on the previous blog titled Address for MeJane.

UPC

2007-10-10T16:44:00.000-04:00

I've been going in regularly to the Protestant University of Congo and feeling less conspicuous than when I first arrived. I am one of three non-black women I've seen there in the last three weeks. The tough part for me is not the skin color, but the language barrier. The majority of the students and most of the professors are limited in their English and I am certainly no better than that in French. I started receiving tutoring in French and had my first lesson yesterday from Professor Mambo. He is fluent in English, French and Lingala, and receives $10.00/hour, which is a good salary here.

Perhaps when the American Corner is finished, I'll be able to attach some photos. Wireless internet will be there, as well as twelve terminals. Part of my responsibilities here will include supervising the American Corner and providing opportunities for students to learn about English and the American culture.

Teaching the medical students won't start until November 12. Between now and then, I hope to teach the English Club students on Wednesdays from 1:30 to 3:30. I'll help out at the Congo American Language Institute on Fridays. A young woman from Indiana who works for an NGO has offered to help pay for gas in exchange for daily rides to UPC. She and I will be sharing an office, too.

Till the next time, I wish you all a great October 11--and especially to daughter Grace and her husband, Jon. Happy Fifth Anniversary to you!!! Wish I could be there to give you both a hug!

Earplugs and Mosquito Deterrent

2007-10-08T15:25:00.000-04:00

Have you seen those neon pink earplugs? I brought a couple of packages with me, just in case. They have made such a difference for me. The professors' offices here are very small--about 12 X 12 block walls. They might have a window, but it would probably be covered with bars. The sound bounces in these offices like crazy. Several professors, most of them PhD's share an office with their secretaries and assistants. You can imagine how that looks--three desks, at least three chairs, printers, computers, stacks of books, everything that costs money has to be stored behind locked doors. I have also been assigned to one of these offices. Voila--earplugs!

The Sunday services are marathons--lasting between two and three hours so far--100% in French. The praise team is a 16 member group complete with several keyboard performers and 2 guitars. They turn the volume to full capacity. Voila--earplugs!

I lost the battle last night with the mosquitoes. I must have 20 bites on my legs from kicking off the mosquito netting at the end of the bed. I didn't wear any repellent either, which I usually do. This morning I asked Dickie, my house garcon, to lower the netting in order to get it tightly tucked under the mattress. Taking 50 mg of benedril every 4 hours today has diminished the intensity of the bites for me, but I'm not eager to add to the abuse!

I'm still working on my teaching schedule with the university. I'll keep you posted. Thanks for listening. Wish I could have a Primus with you all at the local cafe. Primus is Congolese beer and costs $2.50 USD. Tastes great, too. Whadyyano?

Address for MeJane

2007-10-05T17:12:00.001-04:00

Several weeks ago I included an APO address for me here. There is no mail delivery (or garbage pickup, for that matter), so without the Embassy's help, I'd be stuck. Since then, I've learned that that original address was inaccurate, so please use the contact information below. I also recently bought a cell phone which really helps when you're planning to meet someone and can't, etc. Right now we're sharing rides and cell phones really help with making connections. I've heard that calling the states from here is relatively inexpensive (about 40 c/m) but to call here from the states really adds up. I hope no one needs to use it, but yes, indeed, you are able to get in touch with me if you have to.

Had a really great day today doing what I came to do--teach. Carole and I helped out at the Congo American Language Institute (CALI) of Kinshasa. Classes runs 5 days a week from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm everyday. Thirty-five teachers are on staff, most of them working two jobs. CALI is their favorite because they can earn $10.25/hour, a significant wage around here. Carole and I visited 4 different level classrooms and were treated like celebrities. Students and teachers alike are so impressed with our English! It is very rewarding to give them some insight into the language and the culture behind the language. I hope to help out at CALI on Friday's.

FYI: Learned today that the cable company wanted more money per month if I wanted to download photos. What do you expect for $130/month? That is USD. Congo Francs are interchangeable with American dollars on the street. Credit cards are not ever accepted anywhere for anything. Checks are meaningless. It is cash and only cash -- for gas, rent, groceries, utility bills, restaurants, everything.

Write MeJane at: Unit 31550; US Embassy Kinshasa, APO AE 09828-1550
Call MeJane at: (243) 081-854-9227

Log On

2007-10-04T15:59:00.000-04:00

Wonderful news: I'm the new recipient of internet at my residence! Thanks to Cousin Bruce who, on the night before I left Spring Lake, gave me the wise advice, "It might cost a lot, but it will be worth it to you to be able to work on your own computer, on your own time, at your own home." Right on all counts, Bruce. It was expensive, but I have a feeling that my ten months here are going to be much more enjoyable knowing that I can log on anytime I want to to check the news, get my mail, write this blog, etc. It's hard to describe how vulnerable I felt without the connection to my life back home.

Bad news: The plane crash in Kinshasa. Many of you have asked me about it. I don't know anything more than you do. I wasn't close to the airport when it happened. Traffic was no worse than normal. I was at the Embassy at the time of the crash and security was not unusual. Is that a reflection on the attitude toward physical disaster? Unfortunately life is fragile here.

Tonight I sleep in my own residence for the second night in a row. Prior to this I was staying in the protestant guest house, C.A.P., Centre d'Accueil Protestante. Carole, a former ELF from Lubumbashi, is staying with me till she starts working on her project there, about 600 miles southeast. Sorry, but my photos still won't attach. I may need some technical help with that. I'll have to describe the place. It's a spacious four bedroom, two bath house, with a veranda with papaya, mango, avacado trees growing on the grounds. It comes (for a price) complete with house boy, 2 guards, and chauffeur with automobile. When I wear my big sun-hat, I feel a little like Meryl Streep in Out of Africa. Dean Cornwell, the missionary who rented the house before me, is leaving for the States next week. I'll try to get the photo connection to work soon. I'm just so thankful that the internet worked when they hooked it up. Simple pleasures!

Never a Dull Moment

2007-10-01T05:41:00.000-04:00

I can tell I'm already starting to get used to life here. Yesterday, Sunday, I attended church on the campus of Universite Protestante du Congo (UPC), which is where I'll be teaching English to pre-med students starting October 15. The service was a beautiful gift of hundreds of spirit-filled people. I enjoyed it immensely and realized without a doubt that I am in the right place.

Before church, I took a stroll around the campus and shot a few photos. An image tells 1000 words, but unfortunately, I'm still not able to get connected to the internet with my photos because of the security issue at the embassy. When I start at UPC, I should be able to send photos from my camera to the blog, so be patient. In the meantime, let me use text to describe the public areas. There is unfinished or destroyed construction everywhere; garbage, some smoldering, just in heaps along the walkways. Driving is difficult to describe because of the roads being all torn up so the cars go all over the road to avoid large the pitfalls. Pedestrians have no rights or rules. I have seen only one traffic signal so far in all of Kinshasa, (8 million people), but no one obeys it. If its red, and there are no cars, the drivers run it. There are basically no rules that are reinforced. All the houses of any substance are walled, which includes the house I hope to move into today, that is, if they fumigate it first for the rat population. I will most likely be securing a feline animal in order to keep the house "de-ratified." Mobutu, the previous president before Kabila, left devastation in his wake and no one has attended to it. My other English teacher friend, Carol and I walked to a pizza restaurant on Saturday and were careful to not fall in the large sewer pits along the street that should have grates over the top, but don't. Who knows what they could be used for, but if anything has a value, the people will take it.

Life is not dull here.

In the afternoon yesterday, I attended a farewell party for Dean, the gentleman who started the English Club and recently was Director of PR for UPC. The party was at Katya's, the head of the post. She invited all of the students from the English club, which was my first exposure to the "kids." They are delightful--many of them very articulate and witnesses to Christ. They seem very enthusiastic and eager to learn from their American English teacher. Thanks so much for your encouragement. I will do the best I can. Till the next time, I miss you all and enjoy hearing from you.

Made It!

2007-09-26T04:24:00.000-04:00

Greetings from "The Post" in Kinshasa, Congo. I am using an "unclassified" computer at the embassy site called JAO, or Joint Administration Office, I think. The other office is called the Chancery, where I went yesterday to get my ID tag and was briefed on safety here. Just to reassure you, the embassy is taking good care of me. I will just give you a quick overview today and follow up with a photo or two at a later date when I can access my own computer.

The flights were long, but well-coordinated. Everything went according to schedule. On my last flight a Catholic priest from Brussels who has spent the last 41 years living in Kinshasa allayed my fears and walked me through the chaos in the airport. He was a greater blessing than I realized at the time. As I walked off the jet, people were swarming over the tarmac, getting on and disembarking off other jets. It was dark and I was a little disoriented, not to mention foggy from lack of sleep. I just followed my friendly priest to the terminal and stood in line with him for the passport check. I entered the baggage claim area and there right in front of me was a large black woman, in her colorful native dress holding a large sign that said "JANE DEGROOT." After that Meta took over, called for two porters, and pushed her way through the crowds to the baggage turnstyle. Both suitcases arrived and we headed out to a waiting suburban where the driver, Bob, the Assistant Public Affairs Officer, and Carole were waiting. Driving through the people at night reminded me of what Skid Row and the Helping Hand Mission used to feel like. Scary, but loaded with other feelings, too. Would love to continue, but Carole, needs to use the computer. She was the English Language Fellow (ELF) in Lumumbashi, Congo last year and has been a tremendous resource for me. Her responsibilities have been continued in a different capacity this year. Thanks for your comments! Till later.

Publicity!

2007-09-21T12:55:00.000-04:00

It was kind of a kick to be interviewed yesterday by the editor of our local paper, Len Painter. He seemed to quite intrigued by my story and will run it tomorrow (9/22/07) in the Grand Haven Tribune. If you are able to, please read it; I hope you enjoy it. He said he would like to do a couple of updates while I'm gone, too. Thanks, Len.

I'm trying to use the italicize function on Grand Haven Tribune, but the new Mac laptop won't let me do that. If you notice a typo like that, or some poor grammar construction, feel free to correct me. It may not be something I can change, but it might be. Even though I'm an English teacher, I still make mistakes. I tell my students that language learning is on a continuum. We're never finished learning!

With that, I will bid my USA blog "adieu." I will probably not be able to write again until I'm waiting in an airport somewhere on my way to Congo. FYI, I fly American Airlines from Grand Rapids, MI on Sunday, September 23 at 2:35 pm to Chicago, on to Brussels (Belgian Congo, remember?), then to Douala, Cameroon and on to Kinshasa. I am scheduled to arrive at my final destination at 7:15 pm Monday, September 24. Thank you for following my adventure. Till the next time, may God bless us both! Congo, here I come!

...reaching forward to what lies ahead

2007-09-18T22:45:00.001-04:00

Photo: Home Fellowship Group and Kristi
(Center, back with dark hair)

I'm making progress with the packing. Less is best, right? So what does that mean to a middle-class, middle-aged woman? I found out today from American Airlines that they allow two checked suitcases of no more than 50 pounds. In addition, I can bring one carry-on piece and a handbag. I think I will send my 80 pounds of books via USPS to the APO Office in Kinshasa rather than check them. You may send me mail through the APO office, too. Or if you prefer you may use email through my sbc address listed below, or through the blog comments area. You may also mail to my Spring Lake P.O. Box and my agent will send your letter on to me. Whichever way you choose, I deeply appreciate your thinking of me. All are listed below.

My home fellowship group (HFG) from church threw a farewell barbeque for me last night. Everyone should be a part of a group like this. They have been such a great support to me. Here's a photo of us taken back in the winter when Kristi,the daughter of one of the couples, was able to be there. She's working in China trying to fight HIV/AIDS with sex education. She is a powerful example to me.

ADDRESSES FOR MEJANE
janedegroot@sbcglobal.net

Jane DeGroot
Unit 31550
U.S. Embassy Kinshasa
APO AE 09828

Jane DeGroot
PO Box 398
Spring Lake, MI 49456

Forgetting what lies behind...

2007-09-17T10:14:00.000-04:00

The title for today is from St. Paul's letter to the Philippians, Chapter 3 verse 13. I have a feeling this verse is going to become my mantra for the week. I have exactly six days to be ready to leave and I've got to force myself to load what I don't need into storage, as well as pack for the next eleven months. I think I am going to have to play a mental game with myself. It goes like this: when I am expecting guests, I tell myself that they will be arriving two hours before they really are expected to be here. That way, I have a little margin of time to prepare and even relax a little. In a similar way, I'm telling myself that I only have four days to pack up my personal belongings--both to store and to take. Whatever doesn't get done by then, well, it's too bad.

I haven't written since last week because I was out in Lynden, Washington (north of Seattle, 4 miles south of the Canadian border), visiting Sadie, my first and only grand-daughter. She will be two weeks old tomorrow. The experience was beyond description, so I will just show you a photo. Or maybe two. I think I took about 250 shots of her, so I have a few to choose from. I didn't want to "forget what lies behind..." Next time I'll talk about the rest of the verse!

Another milestone

2007-09-10T03:02:00.000-04:00

This has been quite an eventful week. On Tuesday, my youngest daughter, Virginia had her first baby, my first grandchild. Then on Saturday, my only son, David, got married to Angie, so I gained a daughter-in-law! How's that for excitement? The wedding was in Washington, D.C. I'm including a photo of the beautiful bride and good-looking groom. Also included in the candid is daughter Grace, and her husband, Jon. I'll tell you about them in another episode. Yes, that's me on the left.

Here are a few specifics about David and Angie. They met in D.C. at a party given by a mutual friend, who turned out to be an incredible wedding coordinator! David works for the U.S. Air Force as a civilian and is completing a master's in international relations from George Washington University. His new bride just completed her master's in the same subject from the same institution and has a job in her field. They will be living in their new apartment in Rosslyn, close to their places of work, a rarity in D.C.!

Don't think twice...

2007-09-05T22:08:00.000-04:00

The reactions people give me about going to Congo is interesting. Initially, it's quite a shock for them. The media certainly don't portray a very positive image of the DMC. Yesterday, I heard on BBC about fighting again in several Congolese communities. My son-in-law recently sent me an email from an August '07 New York Times article entitled, "Congo by Rail: Filthy, Crowded and Dangerous." His comment was, "Maybe the trains wouldn't be such a good idea for travel in Congo." Others just shake their heads and ask me if I'm sure I know what I'm doing.
Well, yes, I do and no, of course, I don't have clue as to what I'm getting myself into. The yes part of that answer has more to do with the decision to go than the knowledge about what it will be like once I'm there. I'm motivated to take the challenge. I know it will be difficult, but I think I'm ready to test my endurance. I think I'm prepared to teach English to non-English speakers. I have tried to acquaint myself with some of the issues that plague Congo.
Do I realize the severity of the problems there? No, not in the least. I'll have to get there first to "appreciate" what I have only heard or read about. It is only a matter of time. I leave in a little over two weeks. I pray for courage and strength.
May I take the liberty to drop in a photo of my first grandchild, Sadie Grace, born yesterday? Now that she's here, it will be even harder to say goodbye.

Map of Congo

2007-09-03T21:29:00.000-04:00

I thought it would be helpful for you to see a map of the DMC. I'll be teaching English to Freshmen and Sophomore students at the Protestant University in the capital city of Kinshasa. Although my contract is for 10 months, I plan to stay for an extra several weeks bringing me back to the States in late August, 2008. I'm starting to feel the separation of leaving, but also the anticipation of getting started. I appreciate your encouragement!

Some Facts About Congo

2007-09-03T13:53:00.000-04:00

The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) hasn't always been called that. When I was growing up, it was called the Belgian Congo, translated "hunter." Under Mobutu, from 1966 to the mid-90's, Congo became the Republic of Zaire, which is a distortion of the Kikongo word "nzere" or "nzadi," meaning "the river that swallows all rivers." When Mobutu was overthrown in 1997, the country was renamed the DRC, but the city names of the capital Kinshasa, Kisangai and Lubumbashi were retained.

From 1870 to 1908, Leopold II of Belgium, designated the Free State of Congo as his personal colony. He was ruthless in his exploitation of the country and its people. If you want to learn more about his inhumanity to man, consider reading King Leopold's Ghost by Adam Hochschild. You've probably read Heart of Darkness, a gripping narrative of Conrad's journey on the Congo River during Leopold's reign. Facing the Congo, by Jeffrey Taylor, tells of a similar journey on the Congo River during the 1990's, about 100 years later.

A couple of movies that dramatize the Congolese history are Lumumbo and the Last King of Scotland. I have seen the first, which tells about the conflict between Lumumbo, the first Congolese prime minister, and Mobutu. Although it has some difficult scenes, it is very helpful in understanding some of the issues behind the shift in power. I hope to catch the latter movie within the next 2 weeks before I leave.

Size-wise, Congo is the third-largest country in Africa, making it 1/4 of the size of the United States. The Congo River is approximately 3000 miles long. The country straddles the equator, with Kinshasa being about 10 degrees below the equator. More about the geography next time. If you have suggestions for movies or books, feel free to post a comment about them.

For those of you who know me personally, today is not just the Labor Day holiday, but is also being taken literally by daughter Virginia (see previous post), who is in the process of having my first grand-child. Very exciting! I hope to have good news (and a photo, of course!) very soon!

Background, Part Two

2007-08-30T23:11:00.000-04:00

During the TESOL conference I had several more opportunities to hear from ELFs and Regional English Language Officers (RELOs). George the current RELO in Egypt spoke. A young woman from Mexico talked about her experience. Another woman gave a brief overview of what she was doing in Russia, or thereabouts. Magdalena, the administrative assistant from Georgetown University (GU), described the partnership between GU and the DOS regarding the ELF Program. Each speaker seemed to be honest about his or her role in the program. They candidly answered questions from the audience. After one session, I made it a point to introduce myself to Magdalena. She, too, encouraged me to apply to the program, even though the deadline for applications was in just 9 days.

The night of the ELF reception, I had made plans to meet my daughter, Virginia (see photo) and her husband Dan for dinner at Ivar's, a great seafood place on the wharf. They live in Lynden, north of Seattle, and had driven down to spend a couple of days with me. After an early dinner, they took off for a Mariners' game and I sauntered up the hill to the Hilton. What kind of a party would be held in a soundroom? Well, the desk clerk pointed me toward the elevator, which took me up to the top of the hotel. It wasn't until I arrived in the Sound as in Puget Sound Room, that I understood the context of its name. It had a gorgeous view. The room was filled with congenial and regular people having a good time. I finished off my fresh halibut entree with a few sweets when the gentleman I had met at the exhibitor's booth, introduced himself as David Gifford, director of the GU portion of the program. He called attention to several key people in the room, which helped me put some names with faces. I think it was at that moment that I realized I was going to apply. I had no reason not to. Nor did I have reason to hope that I would be accepted, either. More later.

Background, Part One

2007-08-30T10:17:00.000-04:00

In March, 2007, I attended the annual national convention for teachers of English to speakers of other languages. I know the acronym should actually be TOETSOOL, but that looks and sounds too much like a chocolate taffy-candy, so the leaders opted for the professional-sounding TESOL. It refers to the association, the actual profession and the field itself. However, there is some discrepancy as to the pronuniciation of the noun. One would think that those in the business of pronunciation would be in agreement about how to pronounce their mothership organization. But you'll hear it both ways: using the International Pronunciation Association

(IPA) /i/(or "long e"), and /E/(or "short e").

Approximately 5000 of us TESOLers meandered in the rain (yes, it did rain every day) through the streets of downtown Seattle carrying our oversized neon-turquoise bags, wearing matching nametags advertising some of the major sponsors: Hampton-Brown, ETS, Rigby, Amideast, Scholastic, U of Michigan, and Santillana.

Several presentations during the five-day conference were given by the U.S. State Department regarding English Language Fellow Program (ELFP). I sat in on one and was mildly intrigued by the idea of not only being able to travel, but also to be compensated for travel, housing and teaching. The more I learned, the more interested I became. During a break, I strolled through the exhibitors hall to see what booth #638, Department of State (DOS) had to offer. A middle-aged gentleman greeted me. We chatted a bit about the program and I surprised myself by saying that I was considering applying for the program. He didn't sound surprised at all and in fact, encouraged me to do so. Would I like to attend a little reception the DOS was hosting in the "Sound Room" of the Hilton later in the week? I told him thank you, took the photocopied invitation and his card.
To be continued. I've got to get packing!

Photograph: The original Starbuck's Cafe, Pike Street Market, Seattle, Washington

MeJane with Canon

2007-08-28T21:06:00.000-04:00

This is me, Jane, practicing with my new digital SLR camera in preparation for Congo. The buttons and dials were a little intimidating at first, but when I just started shooting, I got over the jitters and really started having fun! I'm a little nervous that the camera will not make it to Congo and back, but I think it's worth taking the chance.

To give you a little background on the grant I received, it is through a program funded by the U. S. State Department, called the English Language Fellows Program (ELFP). The administrative work is conducted through Georgetown University (D.C). Approximately 140 English teachers, like me, are being sent across the world within the next several weeks to teach English to non-English speakers. Yes, we are paid. We are given a stipend, a place to live, transportation, and medical insurance. State Department personnel provided an extensive orientation prior to leaving and will continue to support our day to day activities during our stay in country. I'll tell you how I heard about the program later.

Congo Scenes

2007-08-28T16:45:00.000-04:00

DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CONGO -- Here I come!

Kinshasa, Congo, will be my home for the next 11 months. I'm the recipient of a grant to teach English to pre-med students at the Protestant University. Keep informed of my experiences by regularly checking into this blogsite. You can contact me through this blogsite, too. I'd love to hear how you like my news and photos.

Congo Scenes

Untold Story

Boring? I sure hope so.

Last Leg

Whistler

Chill

Out of Africa

Seven foot two

Happy Birthday!

Zongo Falls

CALI Graduation

The Access Program

Language Learning

Book Club DRC

Bread Basket

Happy Mother's Day

Pili Pili

A Typical Day

The Kitchen Faucet

You Know You Live in Kinshasa When . . .

The Bonobos

Buitenverwachting

International Women's Day

Out of Congo

Mama Mathilde

Flat Tire: Not the Beer

#6 Mukoka

Still Life with Mangostan

Down on the Farm

More about Christmas II

Need a door?

Faux Pas (Mistake)

More about Christmas

Abigail Martin

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

A Working Vacation

"Socks"

By the Light of the Moon, If There Was One

LOL: Life of Leisure

Raise Your Hand/Voice

More Transportation Stories

"The Road Not Taken"

Philosophy of the automobile

Mundele! Mundele!

Goats, Flooding, Etc.

Barber's Concerto for Violin

Coincidence?

Two Ways of Seeing

UPC

Earplugs and Mosquito Deterrent

Address for MeJane

Log On

Never a Dull Moment

Made It!

Publicity!

...reaching forward to what lies ahead

Forgetting what lies behind...

Another milestone

Don't think twice...

Map of Congo

Some Facts About Congo

Background, Part Two

Background, Part One

MeJane with Canon

Congo Scenes