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?

dangerous tourism

Sorry for the writing drought I have been on the go for past few weeks and haven't had a chance to write. But I am back.

Instead of taking the regular route home Nadine, Tella and I decided it would be a good idea to go and check out the view from the top of mount Goma. Don’t get too excited it wasn’t actually a mountain, more of a glorified hill.

As we began our ascent i was really worried because i had forgot my camera and would not be able to document the view of greater Goma town and the harbor. However i quickly realized that this was the least of my worries. We passed by the army barracks and the heat in the car was turned up by the burning stares coming from the lounging soldiers.

After passing by the barracks we are convinced the only thing we would need to brave now would be the bumpy off camber road to the top. WRONG!

We came across two “checkpoints” on our way up to the microwave tower. Both military men in charge of their respective piece of tape blocking the road did their very best to make it clear that they were in charge and that it was going to be a difficult ride to the top. However, Nadine used her awesome Congolese sweet talk and got us through no problem.

Upon reaching the summit you could see all of Goma. It was quiet and the only sound was our complaints of how hot it was. We were totally alone on top of our small Congolese world. At least that is what we thought. Our moment was quickly shattered by a shoeless soldier with a gun come up to us and begin to forcefully become our personal “tour guide”. We quickly gained attention and soon we were being berated for money, condoms and whatever else we could possibly hand over.

As we took mental note of the astonishing view we quickly backed up towards our car only to catch a glimpse of the rocket launcher pointing towards Rwanda. One of the men, who knows could have been a soldier sporting a tank top and soccer shorts, told us it was for “killing the Rwandese” and the only reason why we are walking around free in Goma was because of what they were doing. ya...okay. We just smiled and nodded to what he was saying.

We thanked the Congolese combatants and took haste as we ripped down the bumpy cliff side road.

I apologize for the lack of photos but I hope you understand.