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Africa
Congo DR
About Congo
Storm
MINGY STREET AT LUNCH TIME
Anon/Kindu
So here I am in DRC (Democratic
Republic of Congo)
No food, no water or electricity
I left Unifil in Feb Two Zero
Zero Two
And now I am working for
Kofi in town called Kindu
I recall all the great food
we could eat
That would disappear so fast at
lunch on Mingy Street
Abu & Alì Youssef, and
Khalil from Rendevous
Serving humus, kafta and
french fries too
But now it's foo foo
and plantin at lunch for me
For this hungry Kiwi
sitting under a mango tree
No steak, no chicken,
Arak or Al Mazza
Just trees and jungle
and Hukuna Matata
►About
Congo
 Congo River
Tuesday,
March 20, 2007
Break outs and break downs
When you live in a place like Congo, much of your energy becomes focused
on when you will next get out. So as the date of your departure approaches
–whether your trip is professional, personal or your last hurrah- you
become increasingly excited about the possibilities that await you at the
other end of your long haul flight: the chance to walk freely in the
streets, cinema, laundry power that doesn't cost $40, fresh milk.
So it's really quite disappointing to get to the airport and discover that
the catering truck has accidentally smashed into the Air France plane,
creating enough damage that your overnight flight to gay Paris cannot
actually leave.
It's not even worth wondering what the catering truck was doing on the
runway, since the meals for your flight have been on board since the plane
left Paris. Instead of waking up in the morning to fresh cafe au lait and
flaky croissants, you'll find yourself with another grey morning in
Kinshasa wondering when you might be able to escape.
kate
Here in Congo, like in many parts of
Africa, we have ‘eh-hey’. It’s a cousin by marriage to uh-huh and is so
multipurpose, you could probably get through an entire day saying nothing
else. It’s useful for instances where a little reinforcement is need. I
agree. Right on, man. But it's also perfect for those sticky moments where
you didn’t quite catch what the person said and are too polite (or lazy)
to ask. I hear you, but I’m not ready to commitment to agreeing.
Kate
BODYINMOTION
Life on the river
When I was little, one of my favourite books
was Three Days on a River in a Red Canoe. It was wonderful. Everything was
packed up neatly and off they went, fishing and swimming, camping and portaging,
and showering under waterfalls. There was the spirit of adventure and it was a
jolly good time.
Here in Kisangani on the Congo River, the canoes aren’t red but they are
plentiful and you can go as many days as you’d like in any direction without
turning back. The canoes start off deep in the bush. They are loaded down with
the riches of the forest that people send to market, carrying back soap, sugar
and salt – the most expensive things some people may buy. They travel by paddle
from all nooks and crannies and river-bends, where 300 kilometers (190 miles)
can take you 14 days.
The river moves 1,500,000 cubic feet of water per second as it rushes from the
Chutes de Wagenia on one side of Kisangani to the mouth of the Atlantic Ocean,
well over 1000 miles away. The Congo River Basin is the one of the largest in
the world, second only to the Amazon. It drains all of Central Africa and has
enough potential energy to supply power to the entirety of sub-Saharan Africa.
It
is hard to imagine more than a moment on the river without another canoe nearby.
In the morning, the fishing nets flutter as they fall into the current, dredging
the river for can be hooked and then sold.
There is only one channel in the river deep enough to accommodate the barges
that come 4 weeks up the river from Kinshasa. The oil barge comes but twice per
month for all of Kisangani.
The Congo River crosses the Equator twice on its way to the Atlantic, so part of
the river always enjoys the rainy season and the speed never slows significantly.
The river has uncountable tributaries and each carries the story of a remote
corner of nowhere, devoid of any real indication of civilization. Places that
are lucky to have one trained nurse, who is probably a Catholic nun as well.Messages
are passed up and down the river by mouth, a mama shouting to a passing
conductor as her child does flips in the water. These kids can swim before then
can walk and will soon be tying fishing lines on floating sticks, dotting the
underworld with baited traps.
The commerçants in the river-side villages
spend their lives moving up and down along these channels and can map every nook
and root lining the river banks.
Here days are measured in how far along the river you are, years in how long it
has been since the last time the river flooded so high that there was water
inside the buildings in town.
In a jungle without roads, the river is the way in and the way out. It can bring
a better life or take one away. It is the blood running through each person’s
veins. Three days on the river here won’t get you very far. But each person
hopes that a lifetime will.
Kate
BODYINMOTION
November 12, 2007
‘When the missionaries came to Africa, they had the
Bible and we had the land. They taught us to pray with our eyes closed. When
we opened them, we had the Bible in our hand, and they had the land.’
Jomo Kenyatta, first president of Kenya
As early as the 1840s, missionaries have played a central role in shaping
colonial and post-colonial Africa. From David Livingstone who landed here in
Malawi and Johann Krapf, the first European known to see Mt. Kilimanjaro,
missionaries have left a heavy footprint on the development of modern
Africa. Even today, the deepest corners of Congo hide aging Catholic priests
for whom Europe is a distant memory of youth.
Today, Sub-Saharan Africa is a patchwork of denominations: Anglican,
Presbyterian, Catholic, Lutheran, Methodist, Pentecostal, Baptist, several
home-grown churches such as the Congolese Kimbanguist and of course, Muslim.
The Christian missionaries were the first Europeans to trek into the
interior of Africa en masse and were certainly a large portion of the
Europeans who remained there, living outside of the major urban centers.
Aside from outright conversion, missionaries were instrumental in
constructing the first schools and health care institutions in much of rural
Africa, introducing western medicine and literacy while learning to speak
local languages. In fact, it was (predominantly black) missionaries returned
from the Belgian Congo Free State (Belgian King Leopold’s private property)
who first reported the extent of the European abuse and torture, starting
what author Adam Hochschild refers to as the first global human rights
movement. And it is missionaries to the Congo that Barbara Kingsolver’s
amazing novel The Poisonwood Bible speaks of: one who assimilates, marries a
Congolese and sails up and down the river bringing medicines to far-flung
villages; the other who pushes his family and village to the brink in an
effort to complete the divine transformation to Christianity.
Unlike the colonists, missionaries still speckle the African countryside.
Many are involved in humanitarian relief, providing health services or
teaching but there are still pastors among them, come to preach to the
masses, to save souls.
It’s one hell of a legacy to leave.
Initiation
kate bodyinmotion
November 19, 2007
Malawi,
along with neighbors Zambia and
Mozambique, have male secret
societies called the Gule Wamkulu.
It is the members of these secret
societies that dress in costume,
unknown men inside, to attend
rites representing Mother Earth,
the British Colonialist, and…the
fire dancer?
The
fire dancer, Maninja, attends
initiation rites demonstrating the
dangers of playing with fire, i.e.
HIV but somehow I think there was
some prior meaning.
We
were told that in Malawi, between
colonization, Westernization, and
urbanization, these rites aren’t
practiced so much anyone. But not
three days later, driving through
the Zambia bush, we saw the fire
dancer running along the side of
the road to a ceremony.
Kate
BODYINMOTION
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