Piston Coffee, Chinese Food and Pili Pili.

We ran through the rain, weaving in and out of the small taxi buses that make up the chaos that is Nyabugogo bus station in Kigali, Rwanda. Turns out that even when you buy a bus ticket it doesn’t necessarily mean that there will be a bus, huh. We were swept onto Yahoo bus lines and began our journey to Bujumbura, Burundi.

6.5 hours on a long winding African road is a great amount of time to get to know someone. My partner in crime on this Burundian excursion was Tella Osler, Bowen childhood friend turned travel buddy. Between the African reggae and swahili preaching on the radio the soundtrack to our trip was born.

Buj, as it is affectionately known, welcomed us with a warm embrace of hot sun. We made a b-line to the lake's edge and enjoyed very cheap and very refreshing beer. Once the bottles were drained and the sun was low we dubbed it time to find shelter. The Pacifica Hotel was home base. Running water, private bathroom, and clean sheets, we couldn’t have asked for more.

Our first full day exceeded expectations. We strolled the streets waiting to see what Buj would through our way. We found shared a French Press at Aroma coffee shop; some of the best coffee I have ever had. After failing in our attempt to contact a friend due to all phone networks being down we realized that we were totally isolated in the central African capitol.

The help we received from the locals in our effort to locate the FH offices was overwhelming. We couldn’t have done it without the local knowledge. We were then directed to a Chinese restaurant and I am very pleased to say I had some of the best Chinese food I have every had. The Burundians know their Chinese food.

We then decided to take another stab at our search for the perfect beach setting. We both crammed onto the back of a moto and 1800 Burundian Francs later we were standing on Gaga Plage, a beach bar that sported old school Dolly Parton. We basked in the sun and witnessed what looked to be Burundian gondoliers ferrying around Asian tourists in front of us.

I left the beach, sun burned with an afternoon buzz and made way for a Burundian buffet. The questionable looking food on our plate made me wonder weather or not we would make it home alive. I am happy to say that hot pili pili must have killed off anything cause I am still standing. We spent our last night at our beloved hotel sitting on the roof, listening to awesome tunes, taking swigs from a cheap bottle of wine.

The revamping of a friendship and Buj experience help me realize how anything is possible, even a Bujumbura Boxing Day expedition.

Kigali Take 2

The sound and flash of the thunder and lightening woke me up. Looks like i wouldn't be playing tennis today. The powerful down pour created rivers of water that surround Maji like a moat. Driving to HEAL was eerie. The streets were quiet and the shops were closed. Side roads had been washed out and some cars were having difficulty making it through the deep puddles. It felt like a snow day back at home.

We arrived at HEAL to be welcomed by an empty Jubilee Centre. Does a rainy day really mean a day off of work? After a quick email sesh I hopped back in the car and made my way to the border. Something weird happened, I wasn't hassled and everything worked out perfectly, including my moto ride to the bus station. I get on the bus just as the doors shut and I was off to Kigali.

Climbing out of Gyseni I spotted a mountain to my right, I had to double take, there was snow on it!! The snow combined with the microwave tower on top reminded me of the drive to Whistler and spotting Black Tusk. Its a white Christmas after all.

The 20-seater bus was jam packed with close to 40 people; thankfully I grabbed a window seat. I drifted in and out of sleep to the sound of loud music being played over the blown speakers. Lil’ Wayne, Shakira, and bad Swahili Christmas carols make up the melange of audio delight.

I pushed through the crowd of people off the bus and onto the Kigali streets. I quickly judged the flow of traffic and made my away across the busy street like playing a real life game of Frogger. The smell of fresh coffee and baking wafted through the air. I grabbed a seat and ordered my coffee. I am back in civilization for the time being. Christmas time with friends in Rwanda, lookin’ forward to it.

A Fragile Situation

The hot sun beats down on Goma so I find cover in the shade of one of the many containers scattered through the HEAL Africa property. Kenaynandry, a forensic specialist from Nairobi, joins me. He cracks a joke about how hot it is in Congo and then goes off on a tangent about how awesome Kenya is. We dive into deep discussion about the issue of rape in the Congo and what DNA testing can do to help and then out of nowhere... BOOM!!

Kenyanandry jumps to his feet in fear, everyone walking across the Jubilee Centre parking lot freezes for what seems like a minute and they then start to move towards the area where the sound came from. I stay seated in the shade. I don’t know what just happened. Was there an explosion? Is something actually serious happening? What do I do in this situation? A wave of mixed emotions washes over me: fear, surprise, and excitement.

Kenyandry finds a higher vantage point and says to me with a smile, “some idiot blew up a car tire” he chuckles and hobbles down the stairs with his crutch in hand. For a split second I thought that my time in Goma was completely changed. I didn’t know what was happening. It was comforting to see that the sound of an explosion wasn’t “normal” I was not the only one startled.

There is still an anxious feeling here in Goma, especially around the holidays. Talking with Lyn, she mentioned that when strife and conflict break out it is usually around the end of November. A spark has not happened yet to start the fire of conflict.

I can’t wait around; worried about what might happen and think about when it may occur. People here take it one day at a time, little victories. The situation is fragile over here. From reading the news, small cracks are revealed. I just hope that nothing shatters while I am here.

Necessity

No matter who you talk to about traveling abroad, and especially to the third world, they will most likely give you some dialogue about what you need to watch out for, what you need to bring, and what you don’t need to bring. Some of this advice should be followed but most of it falls by the wayside once you spend a decent amount of time in the area you are traveling.

My two-month anniversary is quickly approaching and I consider myself living proof of how traveling habits can fall by the wayside. I have taken on a more relaxed approach to what I watch out for and what I do.

Sunscreen is no longer worn out of necessity but rather on the odd occasion. Some of the expats, who have been here longer than me, have given up completely on malaria meds and have dropped the mosquito net as if it was an alien idea. I still drape my net only because after my first night of rebelling against “the man”, I woke up with a symmetrical design of mosquito/other bug bites across my chest. (Don’t worry mum I am still religious about my malaria meds.) I have also become less concerned over what I eat. Sure I have had my run in with the odd dish that hasn’t agreed with me but for the most part I am not too worried about food served at restaurants. I am able to say that I have popped the odd locust in my mouth and I have eaten something that looked awfully close to intestines. Lastly, instead of keeping a bottle of hand sanitizer in my back pocket wherever I go, the bottle is now perched on my desk back in my room at Maji.

Now, you have to understand that I am not completely careless. I still wash my hands and will turn down a fresh salad here and there. Along with the habits that I have dropped I have learned a few things that are important to know when living in Goma:

• Wearing long pants on a hot Congolese day is not a form of torture

• Washing your feet is more important than a full body shower

• A conversation is still coherent when 3 different languages are used

• You are genuinely excited when your ride shows up only 15 minutes late, or a meeting starts on time.

• Your plans at the beginning of the day do not always match the score sheet at the end of the day and that’s okay.

I don’t know where the idea comes from that when you go to Africa you need to wear clothes with as many pockets as possible. Sure I can see the odd pair of cargo pants being useful but are the goofy vests and double zip offs a necessity? Not likely. Although, it seems that this form of dress has become the uniform of the white African traveler.

It is interesting to see how people cope when traveling or living somewhere foreign. I still carry around my laptop, sunglasses and rain jacket where ever I go, cause you never know right? Haha. We all have things that make us comfortable in uncomfortable situations. After living in Goma town things like hand sanitizer and goofy looking sunglasses are used no longer out of necessity but rather for the feeling of comfort and safety.

The Holiday Season

Every year as soon as the calendar shifts over from November to December something weird happens to us. Our body clock for some reason knows that Christmas is near. Lights go up, tree hunting begins and Christmas carols echo hauntingly through shopping malls. I thought that by heading thousands of miles away from the western world i would some how avoid this phenomenon. Yeah right.

I can’t help but laugh when wandering the streets of Goma. Think of the most horrific, ugly, and tacky Christmas shwag you can think of, it has all been dumped here.

The supermarket on one of the main streets of Goma town is sporting blow up Santa Clause’s and blow up snow globes. Do the people running this supermarket really think that people have the electrical means of powering a fan to keep these things inflated? It’s ridiculous.

Step into Shoppers, the Lebanese run, Shoppers Drug Mart style store and a wall of hits you over whelming Christmas crap. Fake trees, Santa hats, and to top it all off, French and brutal Swahili Christmas carols.

Even the street venders have joined in the Christmas frenzy. Bad wool sweaters, streamers and tinsel weigh down the young men and boys as they dodge traffic trying to make their sales.

Who buys this stuff?

I have attempted to bring a little Christmas cheer to my everyday life by playing the Charlie Brown’s Christmas soundtrack and opening the tiny cardboard doors of the advent calendar that my mum sent with me. I have even made a sad attempt to have a hot chocolate (nesquick, powdered milk, and hot water).

For some reason the whole commercialized consumerist style Christmas seems out of place in Goma. Nwaboshi, one of the laborers helping me with my container project, expressed how important it was that he gets paid before Christmas because he needs to provide for a large family meal. This is coming from a guy who takes home blankets with holes in them and other discarded, unusable equipment from the container. The Christmas bug can infect anyone.

People go crazy around the holidays back at home. I guess I just wasn’t expecting it here.

The Good Times Are Killing Me

I bitch and complain about how frustrating, slow, and relative Goma is. It sometimes seems that whenever I am having a conversation about what is going on here or whenever I write about my time here it is always some sort of grumble or groan about life on the African continent. I have to say that this is not a fair impression of Goma or Congo for that matter.

Along with the bad comes the good. You guys, reading this blog, must have a pretty skewed idea of what life here is like. Here is a Goma fun fact: it’s not all bad.

If you add up all the annoyingly frustrating days that I have had within the past month, today washes them all away. I woke up today and wasn’t overly tired. That’s weird. I put on some Charlie Brown’s Christmas tracks, sipped my coffee and thought to myself, “Samo, today is gonna be a good one!”

When I showed up at HEAL I was met with the wonderfully surprising sight of my carpenter, Rubin, working hard to finish my shelving project for the container. The Internet was good, not great, but then again I am in Goma so I can’t set my Internet bar too high.

Lyn invited me to sit in on a press conference that was being held to announce the launch of DNA testing for rape victims at HEAL Africa. This is the first time this has been offered in the DRC. Its a step in the right direction.

At the end of the day my shelving unit was completely finished and I was approached by some laborers who are keen and ready to get to work in the morning. The puzzle that is my work life is slowing taking shape.

I got home, listened to some newly downloaded tunes, took a dip in the lake and enjoyed a cold one with some friends. Does it get any better than this? December in DR Congo, whoda thunk it.

It kills me to know that there can be days like this. Everything just seemed to fit into place. Though, it’s the tough days that make the days like today so sweet. And as it seems with every experience here, I gained a new sense of perspective and a new appreciation for the relativity of my reality.

Why Not?

It has become habit and sadly routine for me to ask my self “What am I doing here?” to start off my day. I climb out from under my mosquito net and look through my window that looks out over Lake Kivu.

I get asked the question “so what brings you here?” or “so, what do you do here?” more often than any person should by all of the guests that make their way through Maji Matulivu. I have rehearsed my story over and over, “I am an international development studies student from Canada and I felt like I needed to see first hand what development looks like.” Its hard to say that all of the time because I don’t really know if I even believe the words coming out of my mouth.

It is weird that I am here. I am not a doctor, journalist, or logistician. I don’t really have a title and I spend most of my day inside the HEAL Africa Jubilee Centre checking email and working on various little computer projects. For the local staff here I must look pretty weird.

As I write this post, the rain is pouring off the metal roof of the Jubilee Centre. The sound and flash of the lightening and thunder are not far off. My feet are playing chicken with the streams of water that creep slowly from the windows, despite the fact that they are closed. This is an average afternoon, but is it?

I am checking out the photos I took from my last excursion to Don Bosco, a catholic orphanage that feeds 3000 kids at least twice daily. The longer I look at each photograph the more I realize how out of the ordinary this all is. The dark lava rock roads are drastically contrasted by the bright blue sky and colourful dress of the locals, the amount of kids running in the street, and the odd UN vehicle driving by is now my normal, my average.

This place is wild. Things happen just because they can. TIA, This is Africa.

So I will find myself still asking the same question every morning, “What am I doing here?” The only difference between today and yesterday is my answer, “Why not?”

Virunga Market

The smell of drying fish and spices sting my nostrils as I weave through the maze of people. Colourful fabrics, half a cow, and tables full of fresh produce make up the mosaic of Virunga market.

The constant slur of French and Swahili drowns the sound of twenty or so sewing machines plinking away behind a barrier of fabric. Mounds of sugar, corn flour and maize are stacked tall in front of women trying to manage their table and manage their children.

Virunga market has levels. At table height the bartering, arguing and laughing takes place. Money is exchanged for flip-flops, limes, chili peppers, and pots and pans. The second, lower, level is a mess of discarded veggies and sleeping children.

Several young boys try to grab my camera and wallet by bumping into me accidentally on purpose. When I tell them I know what they are doing they just shrug and laugh.

Virunga market is a beautiful organized chaos. It is everyday life. The butchers wear graduation gowns to avoid getting their clothes bloody. Who knows how long the chunks of meat having been dangling from the rafters?

Going to the market is not a just one errand out of the day; it’s the event of the day. You get lost in the bartering and mélange of goods and produce. When you find the exit it is as if you are coming up for air after a long dive. The only issue is once you exit you are met with the outer market crowds and roads of Goma. The chaos is never ending.

I'm waiting...

I realize now that I have grown up in a fast paced, results based society. The Internet is getting faster and faster, we have drive through ATMs, and Starbuck has introduced an instant coffee that rivals its drip. Patience is definitely not a Western virtue.

I am using this blog post is a means of passing the time. I am waiting for the Internet to come back online, I am waiting for a phone call from a carpenter with an estimate and I am waiting for Lyn to become available. I sometimes feel that I spend more of my time waiting impatiently than actually doing.

Even yesterday, a day that I consider a complete success had its time of waiting. I was waiting in line at Kivu Market trying to buy the food in my hand. Kivu market was going through some renovations, it had introduced a new computer system and my check out line was the fortunate one to be blessed with a trainee cashier. I don’t speak the language and I feel that I could have made things run smoother if I had mustered the courage to jump the counter. What made the situation even more ridiculous was the fast paced club music pounding loudly in the background. Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse the unreliable city power decided to cut out. We just had to be patient and wait.

Its difficult to apply my results based form of success to this slow moving patient world. In an email exchange with Richard Anderson of HEAL U.S.A. he helped me understand that I needed to be glad with the small victories of a day. I cannot always grumble and grown over how “unproductive” I was. In a more hippy way of putting it, I need to be happy with just being. My productivity, like many things here in Goma, needs to be viewed relative to my setting. I can no longer compare my successes back at home with my successes here.

I need to be patient.

What happens tomorrow?

“The youth of today are the leaders of tomorrow”

This saying has become cliché for my generation. As a younger person I have constantly been encouraged to go out and vote because my vote counts, and recycle because I want the planet to be beautiful for my children. These are great sayings, but are they falling on deaf ears?

Are there a lot of young people interested in development? If you were to ask me this question before I marched through the snow to a crowded Monday night IDS lecture my answer would be “for sure!” Yet now that I have spent a relatively short amount of time in a part of the world where you can’t cross the street without nearly being hit by some sort of NGO vehicle my answer is very different.

I don’t consider usually my self a young person. Maybe its because I am the oldest in my family, who knows. However, I can confidently say that I am the youngest expat currently working and living in Goma. I don’t mean to toot my on horn here but I think there is something wrong with this reality.

If we, as youth, are constantly being told that we are the future, then as people interested in the developing world and development as a profession, shouldn't we should invest more at a young age. Learning theory in a classroom is only beneficial if it is carried out and observed in the field. Theory needs to be given context.

Jo and Lyn Lusi have been running HEAL Africa for its lifetime. They are professionals and have been doing a great job at the helm of HEAL Africa. Unfortunately the awesomeness that the Lusis bring to the table will not last forever. We need to ask the question, who will be there to catch the awesomeness and run with it when Jo and Lyn retire?

The development sector needs to become a young person’s profession and passion. In order for this to happen we need to live up to the cliché and act and believe that we truly are the leaders of tomorrow. Cause no matter how hard we try to avoid it, we are.

Moving Forward

I have now lived in Goma for over a month. The adventures of the daily commute from Maji to HEAL have worn off and walking through the volcanic streets has become routine. The projects that I am working on have lost some momentum and I find myself discouraged.

I think my discouragement is fueling the fire of frustration that I have been slowly building these past couple weeks. My frustration comes from being an outsider in this world of insiders. I am a foreigner working in a local organization. It is difficult because I am here for an adventure, for experience and I am working with people where this is everyday life.

When you are traveling through a certain town or city there isn’t time for this feeling of being stagnant. You are constantly moving and therefore, like a car, easily roll through the rut in the middle of the road. However when you set up camp in one area for an extended period of time you slow down, making it easy to get stuck.

I have been spinning my wheels lately trying to get out, but in actual fact I am just digging myself deeper. The whole “woh is me" speech is getting old and I need to ask for a push. I am not sure what form this push will come in but I have an idea of where to start.

I need to remember how everything is relative. The average here in Goma is not the average at home in Vancouver. The trials that I find myself struggling with here are not the same as the ones back at home. I need to see the silver lining in my frustrations.

Sure, I have found myself spinning my wheels this time, but once I get out of this rut I know there will be plenty more down the road. The question is, next time will I take charge and make an effort to avoid them?

Goma

The view from the Jubilee Centre at HEAL. yes that is a volcano in the background.



A Goma local.


having a beer at Le Chalet after a long day.


Ottawa Senators fan?

Check it!

HEAL Africa is being featured on The Oprah Show! Check it out on December 1st and December 25th. http://www.healafrica.org/cms/