reflection

looking back. thinking. curious.

What would life be like if I had just stayed in Goma? I am in the throws of midterm paper season here at school and it doesn't help that majority of my classes have a great lakes region focus right now. We are watching movie clips and flipping through images of the flourishing rolling green hills and the still waters of lake kivu contrasted by the black roads and faces of suffering. It's gripping. I smile at the images, they are familiar. BUT (there is always a but) am I romanticizing it? I know that I had my days in Goma where I wondered what the hell I was doing there, where all I wanted to do was book it to the border and make a run for the Kigali airport. Yet I also had those days where I couldn't wipe a smile off my face as I was goofing around sorting through medical equipment, holding someone's hand, or having a primus at the African Queen.

I guess I feel unsettled because those strangers who became friends over in Goma are heading back, and I'm not. Part of me wants to drop everything, put a plane ticket on the ol' visa and show up back pack in hand. But, instead, I am here in the library, in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and it all seems so far away. who knows when i will return next?

A theme that jumps out at me from the rest of my writing is my emphasis on patience. So, to take advice from the younger level headed version of Samo, I will wait, I will be patient. Because some day I will be arguing with a border guard and wondering why I am doing it all over again.

365 later

So, it has been almost exactly a year since I first touched down in Goma town. A year ago I was overwhelmed, excited, nervous and…well… overwhelmed. Now I am in a completely different situation. I am back at school, sitting inside my warm home shielded from the cold outside. Very different from where I was last year. School is different than I remember. It’s fun. I generally look forward to going to classes and I am eager to learn. I find myself actively seeking time to be alone and reflect. I don’t reflect on anything in particular I just think about where I have been and where I am going. Whether it be about school, friends or my last year I am trying to think, to make sense of it all, whatever “it all” may be.

A question I have wrestled since mid summer has been “how has your experience this past year changed you?” WOW. Deep eh? I thought the answer would come easy to me. I thought I would be able to just open my mouth and an eloquent answer would just flow out. But I open my mouth and…nothing. I don’t know if I can’t find the words or I just don’t know yet. Goma and HEAL seem so far away. Years ago. Another world. I know I have been affected by my experience I just don’t know how exactly. It will come with time. The odd smell, a song, even the sound of a helicopter flying overhead brings me back to the dusty jagged streets. Goma has become a part of me; I can’t point out what part it is yet. Patience.

international women's day

Monday, March 8th not only marked the beginning of my last week in Goma but also an amazing day for Congo. Monday was International Women’s day. It’s a day for the women of the Congo to stand up and be heard. In Goma they march through the streets, chanting, singing and smiling while wearing specially made Congo outfits. In a country that has been dubbed by the media “Hell on Earth” and “The Rape Capital of the World” this day represents a huge step forward for how the women are perceived by the global community. They are active not just passive victims. Unfortunately because of the strict laws I was unable to take photos of the event but the view will forever be in my mind.
As the sea of women stopped and surged down the main drag, men stood by watching from the sideline shouting the occasional comment. I shook some of the women’s hands and decided to call it an early day. I hissed down a moto, quickly bartered a “fair” price and took off beside the colourful parade. We were stuck in traffic amongst the hooting, hollering, exhaust and honking as women attempted to take over the road. This was their day and nothing or no one was going to take it away from them. While we were stuck in the traffic I asked my moto driver what he thought of the day’s events. He seemed to be supportive of the entire event. It was amazing to see the amount of women that participated.
If Congo is “Hell on Earth”, than hell can throw great party.

Time

Time is an interesting concept over on this side of the world. As i have mention previously everything moves slower, more relaxed even. I don’t mind the relaxed sense of time when it doesn’t inconvenience me. There is no rush to get anything done. “We can do it tomorrow”, “later”, “tomorrow” yada yada yada. I have found this easy to go along with because I have not had any future commitments while have been here. A friend of mine, Tella, described Goma as a bubble or black hole. She thought that it would be easy to show up here and before you know it a year has gone by. I think it’s because everything here moves at a manageable pace. Not to fast, not too slow. I think Goldie Locks would love it here.

However the my perfect relaxed nature is all about to change.

In 11 days i will be stepping on a plane and saying goodbye to the Great Lakes region of Africa. 11 days!! It is hard to comprehend that my time here is coming to end. Right now I have the same feeling one has during exam period. I am trying to get all of my work done while making the most out of everyday and night.

Today I had a brief glimpse of what I am in for once I touch down in Cairo. I was trying to come up with a plan of what I am going to do in the short amount of time I have and let me just say from what I have researched so far 9 days is not nearly enough time to see Egypt. But I have to make the best of what I have got. I will be thrown head first into a place bustling with energy. I will be restricted by bus and train schedules versus just meal times.

This sense of urgency with only be magnified once I get to Europe and then home to Vancouver. It is interesting how more tense and fast moving everything gets as I make my way closer and closer to home. Just thinking about applying for classes, going back to work, and then eventually going back to school is all very daunting.

What I have to work on now is not squander my time left in Goma. I can’t get ahead of myself

the BIG picture

Maji is full of people right now. Doctors, schoolteachers, hospital administrators, students and researchers. The conversation is non-stop and the place is teeming with an infectious energy.

But I must be immune to this energetic disease because I am just not feeling it. I consider myself to be someone who is willing to dive into any conversation over the dinner table, I jump at the opportunity to help people out and show people around. But not today.

I am quiet, tired and just want to be alone. I am tired in all ways possible. I am tired of talking, I am tired of sorting medical equipment, and I am tired of walking through the Goma streets. I want to escape. This is the first time that I have felt this way. I was even toying with the idea of trying to go home earlier. YA I KNOW CRAZY. I don’t want to go home, but right at this very moment it seems like it would be the easiest move.

I’ve never considered myself to be the type of person to take the easy way out. I need to stop everything and take a good hard look at why I am here. I am here to learn and have experiences. No one ever told me that I would always have a good time. So here goes nothing, time to go and sort some clubbed foot equipment. Another day, another piece of equipment to sort. Maybe i will catch the energy bug after all.

Gangsta Beats and Volcanic Dust

Just over three weeks ago the Lebanese owned Kivu Market, famous for its large selection of western delights, opened up a “fast food” restaurant, or at least as close as one can expect to a fast food restaurant in Goma. For my Haligonian friends it roughly resembles King of Donair and looks as though it would sit quite comfortable beside the Black Market at Pizza Corner. When you can buy samosas on the street for 300 Congolese francs (roughly 35 cents), buying a shawarma for $2.50 seems outrageous so its a place to go when one needs a little pick-me-up.

So today was a day for a treat. After working in the containers in the morning it was nice to swing open the HEAL Africa front gate and make the short dusty walk to the Kivu Take-Away. Climbing the narrow spiral staircase to the soundtrack of Madonna’s latest and greatest up to the patio is a welcome change of pace. While enjoying my shawarma I find myself mesmerized by the TV playing the latest and most popular music videos. Trying to maintain a conversation while Rhianna is dancing half naked with her music being played crazy loud is a skill, and a skill that I have not yet mastered. I used to not understand why you would see crowds of twenty or so kids packed inside and out of a small movie stand. Now I do. When you don’t watch TV for a long time it is hypnotic when you eventually do.

While taking our last bite of shawarma taking in the beats of Lil’ Wayne it dawns on me where we actually are, Goma DR Congo. And here I am sitting back in a K.O.D. knock-off listening to over paid rap and hip-hop artists talk about how rich they are and how many cars they own. A UN helicopter gun ship drowns out the music overhead and I am back into the reality of it all. We pick up our things, say goodbye to Jay-Z and head back to HEAL passing by street kids selling deodorant and key chains.

I have tackled with the reality that the global north and global south are on the same planet. It blows my mind that they can somehow coexist. Today just gave me a glimpse at how different the two worlds are. Now I find myself asking, which one is more real?

Trade or Aid?

Before I left for Goma I was leaning towards the ideology of “trade not aid”, but now that I have been over living in a country that receives over a billion dollars worth of aid per year I am not so sure any more.

I remember arguing in one of my IDS tutorials, what is more important social action or political action? There were great arguments for both sides, however the group of people involved in this small debate concluded that there is a need for a healthy mixture of both. I believe the same goes for trade and aid.

The aid argument has been around for a long time, I have read that there was even great debate over the Marshal plan after WWII. Yet I can say from first hand experience that aid is important to create the means for trade. One cannot expect a developing nation to join the global market place at a competitive level when it is unable to provide for the basic needs of its people.

A nation such as the Democratic Republic of Congo is a great example for this argument. The DR Congo is known to be a resource rich country, however it is unable to gain from its resources because of the constant strife and terror created by armed groups around the mining region. Conflicts have uprooted whole communities creating a large population of internally displaced people who are in great need.

A country like the DR Congo cannot simply cut off all aid and expect to rebound with the help of international trade if there is no means of legitimate trade. Talks and agreements are slowly happening to help make the trade of minerals legal. Until legitimate international commerce becomes a reality in the Congo it is ridiculous to think that aid is not needed.

Now just because I think that aid is necessary it is important to note how the aid is being given to the country. When one thinks about international aid pictures of relief work come to mind such as the Tsunami relief effort and now most recently the earthquake in Haiti. This is unfortunate because aid does not simply mean an expat handing out food from the back of a UN or other NGO vehicle. Aid is not solely a financial donation to a country in need, it can also be an investment in human capital- helping the people in need help themselves. The financial side of aid is needed however it is not right to think that is only way.

Thoughts?