Trip to Africa PHOTOS
July 2012
Ruth, Jonathan, Hana
Sunday July 1, 2012
We pulled out of Baltimore in the afternoon leaving a house that had no power. A few nights before, a storm, called a “derecho” had come up suddenly. I was home with Chris, and the freight train-sounding wind arose in the evening. Chris came downstairs asking what was going on. The strong steady winds (about 80 mph) had come up without warning, lasted a few hours along with a most spectacular thunder and lightning storm, knocking over trees and large branches—hence no electricity. The evening before we left, with no power, we all (all six of us) took a walk around our neighborhood in the dusk. When there is no power, there is also no internet, no computers, etc. So we are able to do things like take walks and have an evening candlelight cookout. On Sunday AM our brunch together was pizza and bacon, trying to use up perishables in our fridge. Since there there was no coffee-maker, Carla and Hana went looking for a cappuccino, unsuccessfully.
Andy drove us to Dulles, with Carla helping in the navigation. This was practice for our plans for him to pick us on at the end of July. There was a (sort of gruesome) motorcycle accident on I-83 that we passed on the way which put me a bit on edge. There were still lots of tree branches, etc. remaining to drive around as we left the neighborhood and many traffic lights out. Andy did a good job driving us and he will have the GPS when he comes again to get us.
At Dulles we found a Chipotle restaurant and Hana was happy to get her belly full of burrito before taking off for Johannesburg. She also got a chance to watch the ending of the Spain-Italy European cup soccer match which her team, Spain, won handily. I spoke with my friend, Tom Openshaw, in the airport before taking off. He noted that we must have “nerves of steel” to leave our three young adult children at home for a month. Maybe so. . . .
The flight went well and, after a re-fueling stop in Dakar, Senegal (where we weren’t allowed to get off the plane) we made it to Johannesburg in about 17 hours total. After we landed, the pilot announced that it had been a “fully automated landing.” I am sure that it was a safe landing, using the computers instead of a pilot, but I am glad that they waited until we were on the ground to announce it.
Our flight from Dulles had been pushed back several hours, meaning that we wouldn’t be able to catch the flight to Zambia immediately from Johannesburg as we had planned. South African Airlines put us up in a hotel near the airport and arranged a flight the next day, and it all worked out. We stayed at the Summer Sun hotel and rugby was on tv in the lobby. Sports seem to be of above average importance in South Africa. Bruno Baerg, Southern Africa MCC Area Director, came by to greet us and to pick up a suitcase that we wouldn’t need in Zambia.
We noticed on Weather.com that the forecast for Baltimore for the next five days predicted highs of 98/99/102/98/97. Johannesburg is cool, it is the “winter” here and we pitied the folks we left behind on the east coast.
Monday, July 2
Because of the time changes, we arrived in J-burg on Monday evening, July 2 at the O.R. Tamba airport. Ruth and I took a walk along the streets near the hotel, not a wonderful scenic walk but we got outside and I enjoyed breathing the air of Africa for the first time.
I read about Dr. Livingstone and Mr. Stanley and am looking forward to seeing Victoria Falls, the name of the spectacular falls on the Zambezi River given by Dr. Livingstone. The previous indigenous name had been “Mosi-oa-Tunya”—“The Smoke that Thunders.” I read also that Dr. Livingstone died looking for the source of the Nile, and his heart was excised from his body and buried in Zambia, while his body was taken overland and then by boat back to England.
Tuesday, July 3
enjoyed a delicious buffet breakfast in the Summer Sun hotel restaurant, really good! Also in the large restaurant were a number of busloads of S. African school children—showing fine behavior and enjoying their food. We wondered where they came from and how it was arranged that came to eat at this hotel.
took the shuttle back to the O.R. Tamba airport and went through the security and other check ins there. I bought a zebra print tie and Hana bought a belt, she had forgotten to bring one along. The airport in J-burg is highly organized and efficient, no problems at all. We saw a sign advertising Bankers without Borders and wondered what kind of an organization that was. Our flight was upgraded to business class, so we basked in the luxury of more leg room, better food and service, more smiles from the stewardesses, etc.
we approached Livingstone, Zambia, we could see the Victoria Falls from the air, fanning out as the Zambezi River approached the broad drop off. It is on the border of Zimbabwe with Zambia, and we planned to explore it from the Zambian side. Our home base was to be a rustic hotel/hostel called Jollyboys. We landed at Harry Mwaanga Knumbula International Airport. The bathrooms signs said Ladies and Gents. After changing money ($ 100 US = 500,000 Zambian kwacha—a kwacha is the Zambian fish eagle, the national bird) we took the shuttle bus to our hotel. Jollyboys has private rooms, all at ground level and also spaces for tents. The rooms were very basic—cold showers, mosquito nets over the beds, no AC. During the latter part of our stay a high school group from S. Africa pitched their tents—about 10 tents for maybe thirty young adults, generally well behaved—in the courtyard of the hotel. The staff was helpful and it was just the kind of place that we were hoping for.
Jollyboys (we never did find out where that name comes from) receptionist called a cab for us—the cabbie was named Victor—and he drove us to the Victoria Falls. When he dropped us off we set up a time when he would meet us again, at the end of the day. Surprisingly to us, there weren’t hordes of tourists. I guess the “off-the-beaten-track” nature of the Falls explained that. It was spectacular. The bottled water sold at the stands was called “Taste the Thunder.” And the Falls certainly did thunder. The water falls over 108 meters and the expanse of the Falls, spreading from Zambia to Zimbabwe, was almost 2 km distance. There are 8-9 separate falls, and the full distance across at the rim is about nine kilometers. It is hard to see the whole falls from one end to the other.
Ruth, Hana and I hiked along a trail overlooking the gorge in which the Falls descends and got lots of photos. The woodlands beside the trail was habitat for a bunch of chimpanzees who call that area their home. We were warned not to get out any food during this hike because these hungry chimps try to steal it and get aggressive doing so.
Other hikes we took included one that involved a steep descent into what was called the Boiling Pot. It has this name because the torrents of water form a cauldron of sorts at the base, the water swirls and seems to boil. Of course, the noise was deafening.
We also took a hike along the Knife’s Edge, a path and suspension bridge right along the falls. We rented rain ponchos but in spite of those ponchos we still got plenty wet. The rainbows were constant and we got a lot of photos again, risking getting our camera’s wet!
After perusing the strip of souvenir shops (and owners insistently pursuing our business) Victor brought us back to the hotel. We had supper there, fairly tired after the day of hiking and remarking on the incredible views we had of these Falls. Even Ruth, having grown up in Africa, had not yet seen them. The weather was cool (this was “winter” in the southern hemisphere) so the Knife’s Edge hike had chilled us. We had some hot tea which helped.
The hotel restaurant had the tv on, showing Zambian news. One of the news features was a visit that George W. and Laura Bush were making to Zambia to open up a health clinic. Another news story had to do with plans to “re-base the kwacha”, that is, take three zeros off of the various denominations. Yet another story that was big was about a copper scandal—copper is a major export of Zambia, which shares the copper belt with Congo.
Our plans for next day, we decided, would be to go on a safari in Botswana to see some large African animals. We signed up at the Jollyboys desk.
Wednesday, July 4
We were picked up early in the morning and, half asleep with passports in hand, and took a bus ride westward along the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe. We arrived at a ferry crossing town (it reminded me of Neak Loeung in Cambodia—rough, dusty, full of enterprising people all either trying to get across the river on the ferry or trying to make money from the people who were waiting to cross). This location was right at the point where four African countries come together, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Namibia and Botswana. The bus let us off and we crossed on a motorboat, cutting ahead of all of the people and vehicles who were waiting for the large ferry. We got on another bus, a friendly guide named Axe introduced himself to us, and we went on to the border crossing into Botswana.
At this crossing there was a foot wiping station that we had to go through before going into Botswana. This was a new experience—Axe asked us “Did you step on the mat?” So we waited in line to wipe our feet on a mat that had been treated with some kind of chemical. The sign said that by wiping our feet we were trying to stop the spread of Foot and Mouth disease. One lady had a huge bag of shoes and she had to dump the entire bag out on the ground and painstakingly wipe each shoe, one by one, on the mat.
At one point on the road near the river crossing, there was a junction that pointed straight ahead to Botswana, right for Namibia and left for Zimbabwe.
We arrived at the safari location, Chobe park, a huge game preserve, 11,700 square km in size in the NE corner of Botswana. It is a part of the Kalahari desert. After a breakfast we took a boat ride on the Chobe river. The Chobe river empties into the mighty Zambezi. Across the Chobe was Namibia, a formerly German colony. The guide told us about a 2007 dispute, resolved by the International Criminal Court, between Botswana and Namibia. Both countries claimed an island in the Chobe river. I forget how this was resolved.
In the afternoon we took to the roads and were driven in a large open jeep. The wildlife was tremendous and everywhere—Nile crocodiles, many different kinds of birds—Egyptian geese, snake bird, African skimmer, crested barbet, helmeted guinea fowl, marabou stork, lapped faced vulture, lilac crested roller—hippos, giraffes, zebras, cape water buffalo, banded mongoose, baboons, warthogs, elephants (huge herds of them), many kinds of antelope—lechwe, impalas, gnus, waterbuck, kudus, buku (these are only found in this general area of Africa), sables. Our boat guide was named Kevin, and he helped us learn little known facts—for example, the African fish eagle (the kwacha) mates for life and when the mate dies, the remaining eagle stays solitary until they die. The most aggressive animals in the park are hippos and cape buffalo. Crocodiles have no molar teeth so they bite and swallow their prey whole. The prey sits in their bellies for a long time in a very acid environment. In fact, their entire body is very acidic so the only edible part of a Nile crocodile is their tail. Our guide pointed out a bachelor group of elephant, essentially a group of losers who lost out to the strongest elephant(s) who travel around with the females that they “won.” Elephants can be identified as “left vs right handed” based on which tusk is worn down more (it is used more). Elephants have six crops of molar teeth and they wear them down over the course of their life. When the last crop is worn down, they die because they starve, unable to chew food. We saw two fish eagles mating in the top of the tree—the guide, who has been doing this job for quite some time, was excited because this was the first time he had seen this.
During the afternoon, as we travelled by road, we came upon a place where an elephant had died, and his skeleton and remains of his flesh was left on the road. Axe said that the elephant had been dead maybe a week. Even this long afterwards, the band of elephants he had belonged to were circling the dead elephant, protecting the bones and, Axe explained, grieving the loss. He called the dead elephant “grandpa.” Seeing the elephants gently protecting and encircling the bones and remains was touching.
At another place there were a number of mothers with a couple of little baby elephants. The babies were pestering their mothers, insisting on being fed. The mothers seemed a bit annoyed. (I am not sure how I could tell that, it just seemed that way to me.)
We sometimes saw a tall tree full of roosting vultures—you could be sure from that that a dead animal of some sort was nearby. The many vultures in the tree looked sinister.
We travelled above the Chobe river and watched two elephants swimming across. The river was wide. Axe said that they were travelling to Namibia “but without the necessary visa.”
noticed how giraffes, which look around from way up high with those big eyes and long eyelashes, seem kind of spacey. They are very deliberate in their movements and run with long slow strides, covering a lot of ground quickly and gracefully. They often kneel to drink and kind of hop up when they are done. Even after doing this job for a long time, Axe became animated when he saw the group of running giraffes, smiling and saying “those are my favorites”.
It seemed that the game preserve is so large and the animals protected that they didn’t mind our vehicle coming along. They would move out of the way, but not for a while sometimes. We got some photos that were pretty amazing, Hana was snapping away with her digital camera.
We arrived back at the guest house, tired, after dark.
Thursday, July 5
In the morning we slept in. In the late morning we walked into Livingstone, exiting the guest house through a rusty gate in the rear of the grounds, through someone’s back yard and to the dusty road leading into town. We ate lunch at the Café Zambesi, it was a hot day. Livingstone seems refreshingly un-touristy, even though it is the nearest town in Zambia to Victoria Falls.
We walked to the souvenir market along the Main St., Hana bought a Zambian soccer jersey and we bargained for and bought some nicely carved animals. My prize purchase was a warthog, my personal Pumbaa. They took out the tusks so they wouldn’t get lost or broken, and I put them in my wallet for safekeeping. Ruth had heard that sellers in the market are willing to trade items brought from the US for their goods. When Ruth tried to trade some items she had, the market lady leaned over and whispered—“I just want money.” We proceeded to some other markets, more authentically Zambian and because the guidebook recommended one called the Maramba market, we asked someone in a shop to draw a map for us. He was very helpful with his detailed map, drawing all the streets, marking them with “Yes” and “No” depending on whether we were or weren’t supposed to take them. It was about a km away and the walk was hot, so we enjoyed the cold drink when we arrived. We also bought a bunch of tomatoes (nice red tomatoes looked delicious piled in the market stalls), some onions and buns and some raw peanuts and bananas to take back for supper.
After we took a taxi back to Jollyboys we had our feast of tomato and onion sandwiches, bananas and peanuts. Vegetarian, just like Hana eats all the time. Hana got on Facebook and organized her photos.
Friday, July 6
We ordered omelets for breakfast. At the outdoors restaurant, I was wearing my Mennonite Central Committee T-shirt. A family from Lancaster was there, meeting up with their son who was finishing up a SALT term for MCC in a Zambian village. We had a good time talking and making some PA-Baltimore connections. I think their last name was Yoder.
We walked to the Museum in Livingstone. The exhibits had to do with the story of civilization in African, Zambian culture and the Dr. David Livingstone story. There were on display actual letters that he had written. He died in N. Zambia, searching for the source of the Nile River.
We headed back to the Falls, this time to take a boat ride to the top of the falls. They guaranteed that this would be safe, so we took their word for it. The boat took off from the Royal Livingstone hotel, a 5 star hotel. Low end rates were US$800, the presidential suite was US$2500 per night. That was where George W. and Laura Bush had stayed when they came to visit during the preceding week. We sat on the patio, overlooking the broad river, watching the water make its peaceful meandering way to the top of the Falls where it disappeared in a cloud of mist and a thunderous noise.
We took the ride along with some other guests to Livingstone Island just at the top of the Falls. The island that we landed on reminded me a lot of Gilligan’s Island, and Ruth thought the same thing. We imagined what it would be like if the engines of the boat failed. I did take special note of where the oars were stowed on the boat, but didn’t feel up to the thought of having to use them. We landed on the island and met our guide, Mr. Alpha Omega (that was what his name tag said).
we put on rain ponchos and took off our shoes and socks and waded out into the water at the top of the Falls. It was loud and misty and it felt treacherous. I am sure that it was safe but he took us directly near the stones on the edge of the brink and we took pictures, admired the rainbows, etc. Mr. Alpha Omega said that each year four hippos and six people on average go over the edge.
had a high tea (really it was a grand feast) with 6-8 other guests at a gazebo structure on the island. One family we met (parents and daughter) used to work for a Senator Inhof of Oklahoma (who was involved with Congo issues) but are now in the oil business in Houston. Another man, from Pretoria, S. Africa, was wearing a Springbok rugby cap. He explained the rules of rugby at great length, Hana seemed very interested.
We finally departed the island after this memorable experience, once again glad for the reliable engine of the motorboat.
For supper we walked, using flashlights through the dark evening, to a restaurant called Olga’s—The Italian Corner. It is advertised as the best pizza in Zambia. And it was good. This combo restaurant/guest house/crafts shop/school is a project of an Italian NGO called CeLIM, designed to train and hire vulnerable youth (orphans, etc). The school provides training in catering, tailoring, carpentry, plumbing, computer and bricklaying. The project named in memory of Olga Diappi. www.olgasproject.com. I paid the restaurant bill with a credit card. They had just received their first credit card machine so I saw one of the young people who works there get on-the-job training. He did a good job too.
Close to the equator complete night comes swiftly. We looked for the Southern Cross in the sky and weren’t sure if we located it or not.
the hotel, rugby was on TV at the outside restaurant/lounge. We wrote postcards to folks. We are appreciating the personality of the Zambians we meet—easygoing, casual, spontaneous and expressive, ready and willing to help when we need it.
That night, the high school age hostelers from S. Africa, made a ruckus when some of the girls found big bugs of some sort in their tents and some of the boys took it upon themselves to rescue the girls and destroy the bugs. This all happened at a very high volume of sound at a very late hour of the night. It woke us up but it was fun to listen to.
Saturday, July 7
We took the shuttle back to Nkumbula airport, the soles of my feet were still tingling from the barefoot walk on the rocks at the top of Victoria Falls. That was proof that we did such a thing, otherwise it might have felt just like a dream of some sort. also had photos to prove it. We were again upgraded to Business class—these upgrades are spoiling us—on the trip back to Johannesburg. had a good view of the Zambezi river above the Falls out of our window as we flew through the air leaving Livingstone.
Hana’s reading material during the trip back on the plane has been Sherlock Holmes mysteries (for fun) and Just and Unjust Wars for her summer school reading. I am reading Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese and Ruth is reading short stories by William Trevor.
Bruno and Lois Baerg, MCC Area Directors overseeing southern Africa MCC programs met us at the Jo-burg airport. This airport is one of the better organized that I have been in—it seems to run very well. We enjoyed talking with them—they are from Ontario, Canada, Ruth works closely with them in her MCC role. We had supper with them and afterwards went to a 3 hour music and dance extravaganza called Africa Umoja—Spirit of Togetherness—at the Victory Theater. It was wonderful and the time sped by. In front of us was a large group (maybe 30) of young S. African soccer all stars. As we were waiting for the doors to open, Hana watched a soccer game on TV in the lobby of the theater—Barcelona (with their star player Lionel Messi) was playing.
The Umoja show traced the history of S. African music through the centuries, using song and dance, various genres as time progressed, using music to illustrate S. African history. It was creative, energetic and captivating. We all loved it.
Bruno noted that dancing is a central element of life in S. Africa, prominent at strikes, demonstrations, celebrations, etc. Bruno and Lois had interesting reflections on S. African history, politics, the Truth and Reconciliation commission, etc. It is a complex country and the complexity continues.
blbaerg.blogspot.com
Sunday, July 8
In the AM Hana and I jogged through the streets of Jo-burg. The temp was in the 40s, not surprising considering that July was winter. We heard that snow falls occasionally but rarely in Jo-burg. At breakfast we learned about sand dams in Mozambique, one of the popular and effective projects that MCC supports.
Bruno dropped us off at the airport and we were on our way yet again, this time to Bujumbura, Burundi. At the Tamba airport, as became the pattern in our airport treks, Ruth and Hana would march out ahead, neck and neck, and I would work hard at keeping up. Those two are hard to compete with, that is for sure! We are all getting comfortable with the check-in/security/ waiting process and are learning how to pass the time.
The flight had lots of empty seats, it was to stop at Bujumbura and continue on to the Rwandan capital,Kigali. You can’t get any more central in Africa than Burundi. It is called “the heart of Africa” and indeed is shaped somewhat like a human heart. The dry season is in full swing which causes a haze to hang over everything and the “dry season sun” to set, red, in the western sky each evening. This evening scene of a dry season haze with bright red sun accompanied us the entire trip through central Africa. A man across the aisle was reading the book Shake Hands with the Devil by Romeo Dallaire about the Rwandan violence and genocide in 1994 (800,000 Tutsi dead over three months).
is mountainous, with Bujumbura, the capital, in amongst the mountains. There are volcanoes around the city and Bujumbura sits on the northeastern edge of Lake Tanganyika. Lake Tanganyika is the second deepest lake in the world, we were told.
This marked the next segment of our trip—the MCC part. Paul Mosley (MCC Rep for Burundi and Rwanda along with his wife, Rebecca) and Mark Sprunger (Area Director for Central and West Africa) met us at the airport. The airport process went smoothly and we traveled together through the city of Bujumbura to their home. Bujumbura is the capital but not huge nor overly congested the way some cities can be. It seemed like it would be a pleasant place to live.
We had dinner with the MCC team, worshipped and sang together. Paul and Rebecca have two sons, Oren (7) and David (3). It was fun to catch up with Mark Sprunger, we have known him and his wife Angela over the years and enjoy each other. They are based in Nigeria where they live with their twin high school-aged boys. They have two other older sons as well in the US.
Monday, July 9
In the morning, Rebecca took Hana and I on a trip through the (hectic) markets of Bujumbura. We also went souvenir shopping and bought some baskets with fitted tops, typical of this area of Burundi.
We left Bujumbura, Paul driving, taking the long uphill drive into the mountains northwards. A large number of couriers earn money by hauling loads on bicycles into Bujumbura, coming downhill on what seems like a treacherous journey into town over the twisting steep road. Their loads are piled, charcoal, green leaves, etc. To get back out of town and up the mountain, they cling onto the back of trucks and casually, holding on with one hand, get a free ride up the long hill. Sometimes a person without a bike will cling to the back of a truck. We would get behind such a truck, take some photos, pass and soon get behind another such truck. We wondered if they sometimes have accidents. The dusty dry season air didn’t allow for a full view but the vistas from the road over the mountains and cliffs back into Bujumbura were pretty spectacular.
After a ride of several hours we arrived at Gitega where we spent the night. We stayed at the MIPAREC guest house and Ruth and Paul and Mark had meetings. Hana and I, along with Felix (the MCC Burundi assistant) tried to go to a local museum but it was closed for the day. Then he took us to a coffee factory and, after waiting for a while and going through a long process of seeking permission were told that it wasn’t available for a tour. We finally went over to the Pope John Paul II seminary and got an extended tour from Father Edward (Eddie). This seminary had its origins when Pope John Paul II visited Burundi in the 1990s and held a large mass at the site. Afterwards, it was decided to build a seminary on this location. Father Eddie told us in great detail about life, studying, the history, etc. of this seminary. At the end, we had tea together and we departed in the dark. The seminary has a small farm, fruit tree farms, and Father Eddie was proud to show it to us.
An issue that MCC has had an ongoing interest in has to do with the refugees from Tanzania and the Congo, some coming to Burundi.
Tuesday, July 10
We traveled over the dusty, often bumpy road and visited several community based Global Family vocational training projects in Muhato area—Bukirasazi village--
Sewing class (5 women)
Construction (8 men and women)
Carpentry (4 men)
Then we went on to a small village called Burasira where we arrived at a large Catholic seminary. The seminary was not in session and we stayed in the empty dorm/guest house. It felt remote and rustic. We had supper with Jodi Mikalachki, and MCC alum who had stayed on an extra year in the community.
We walked back to the seminary and spent some time in the seminary courtyard looking at the skies and constellations. It was dark and we saw many many stars. The Milky Way really looked like a big smear of white color across the heavens—like milk. This time we really did see the Southern Cross—it is shaped like a kite.
HAIKU
Supper together
Milky Way and Southern Cross
A rock hard pillow
Of note:
“Restaurant Obama” in Mutaho
Great coffee and bananas
Bicycles hauling everything
Women dressed in brightly colored clothes
Wednesday, July 11
a night of fitful sleep under a mosquito net with my head on a hard pillow, Hana and I woke up early in the morning, intending to run around a soccer field that we could see out the window. We couldn’t find our way out of the locked gates of the seminary. So, instead of running outside we ran on the walkway around the perimeter of the inner courtyard. We got a workout but I think anyone who looked out during our laps wondered about us. One young priest who happened to walk by us certainly looked with interest.
The shower was cold and the water ran out halfway through the shower. Of the following preferences what I got this morning was the fourth.
Order of preference
1). Hot shower
2). Cold shower
3). No water, but you find out immediately, before starting the shower.
4). No water, but you find out only after you have soaped up your entire body.
After breakfast, we hiked across the main road to the other side, up a fairly long hill through a market place under construction. We passed a place where a lot of people are working on the new road, workers digging and mostly women hauling dirt loads on their heads. We came to a Batwa Village, where we saw how they make traditional pottery. They are made by winding lengths of clay around and around until a rough version of a jug, quite large, is made. The walls are then smoothed out and they are
fired over open fires. They aren’t as strong as ceramics fired in an enclosed kiln but they do the job. Plastic containers are gradually taking the place of these jugs.
Then we went on to HOPE school—which focuses on education for the Batwa (Pygmy) people. Mahwikizi Innocent and his wife started this school, with MCC’s support, about 12 years ago. They are both Batwa themselves. The Batwa are the most discriminated against group in the region. Mahwikizi came from E. Congo, and saw the many needs of his people in Burundi. No Batwa woman has ever completed higher education degree, until the Hope school was established.
We were met at the school by a large group of women dancing and clapping. It was fascinating to watch as they did the Batwa welcoming dance. We were told that in the Batwa dance the dancer does a complete 360 degree turn as then dance, unlike other dances in the area in which the dancer doesn’t turn all the way around. The women danced and danced for a long time, energetically and joyfully, in the hot noonday sun.
We met inside of the school building. We met the first students to pass the exam for 4th years of secondary school (equivalent to 10th grade). This is quite an accomplishment in this setting. Alexander Nsabimana told his story about his very modest beginnings, difficult home, lacking in basic support to succeed academically (no light to study by, little food, difficult home relationships, etc.) to now graduate from 10th grade. It was very moving and I saw tears come to Ruth’s eyes during his talk. Also graduating was Apollinaire Nsadimana and Jean-Claude Mbonimpa, both of whom also had a chance to tell their stories. All in all, out of 11 total 10th grade students (4 girls and 7 boys) 7 passed (3 girls, 4 boys). Passing is determined by standardized testing, and this passing rate is much higher than the national average in Burundi. One of their goals was to go on to further education, perhaps in Bujumbura, and to rise to the level of the Hutus and Tutsis in the country. Also in the crowded classroom were other lower level students, parents, administrators and teachers as well as the delegation from MCC. We had a chance for Q & A after the speeches.
This is an MCC Global Family project. The school includes Pre-school through 10th grade. There is a 30% success rate (based on standardized testing)—which is actually the best in the area.
A major road was being built through this village and seminary area. We predicted that, while the road might open up the area for market and trade, it might also bring some unwanted “traffic” as well.
We began hearing of increased military action in Eastern Congo, just north of Goma. Tim was in communication with us, telling us to stay flexible, not sure if we’d be able to visit North Kivu province.
are noticing that, even out in the rural parts of Burundi, cell phones are everywhere, interrupting meetings, etc. They are an essential part of the development of the country, bypassing the need for an expensive infrastructure of telephone lines, poles, etc. But they are also a nuisance.
I noted that we have moved from spending money like tourists in Zambia to being hosted by MCC and doing MCC type things and spending very little money at all—but it has felt just as enriching.
We traveled back to Gitega again, over bumpy and dusty roads. We listened to Cat Stevens and Bob Dylan on the car CD player. We ate at a restaurant in Gitega. For some reason at this restaurant there were many soldiers.
On our long descent back into Bujumbura we stopped and took in the scenic view of the mountains. We bought small sweet bananas at a stand overlooking the view. We drove by a memorial to a large number of people (many were women and children) who were herded into a gas station during the mid 1990’s massacres and burned to death. The memorial said “Never again” in French.
Rebecca, Oren and David had dinner with us at a restaurant along Lake Tanganyika. We ate outside in a courtyard, overlooking the Lake. In this area were two crown cranes—large spectacularly colored birds—looking for snack handouts. We also saw a hippo in the lake.
Thursday, July 12
In the AM Hana and I took a jog along the residential streets where the Mosley’s live. I had a chance to read a newspaper article dealing with the complex situation in the Congo, it seemed like a good idea to do some reading before heading into this country with such a dramatic, complicated and disastrous history. We continued to hear about unrest and fighting in eastern Congo, but were assured that Bukavu and Goma were safe.
We left in mid-morning, Felix drove us, through Burundi parallel to the Congo-Burundi border and on through immigration into Rwanda. Along the way we saw a number of United Nations buses, loaded with peacekeeper soldiers (some that I saw were from Egypt) heading towards Congo. The roads in Rwanda were definitely better than those in Burundi. We enjoyed getting to know Felix, someone who MCC has hired and seems committed to improving his country. He did his best to explain the complex situation in Eastern Congo—he is a very insightful person. We passed a number of tracts of land filled with empty brick houses. Felix explained that these houses are to be used when refugees are repatriated from Tanzania to Burundi.
Felix drove us to the Rwanda-Congolese border and left us there. We walked across a rickety bridge with our luggage. This was the same bridge that was clogged with Hutu refugees at various times, especially in 1994, fleeing after the Tutsi genocide.
Tim Lind, MCC representative and Serge, MCC’s partner from ECC, and assistant in Bukavu, met us on the Congolese side. I felt the contrast, entering Congo from Rwanda. Things seemed to have a rougher edge to them, Bukavu somehow felt more desperate. It was definitely more crowded.
We drove to the Swedish Mission guest house in Bukavu. Washing our hands, I noticed that the water spigot was electrified, and Hana found out also. We managed to develop a way of turning the water off and on without getting shocked.
Ruth and Tim met while Hana and I rested and read. There are a lot of volcanoes in Eastern Congo and surrounding Goma, we learned, but the main one that is active is the one near Goma. This one erupted a number of years ago and covered much of the city. This is also the one that Ruth climbed in 1982 (a previous life).
Later in the day, Tim explained some of his perceptions of the Congo, a country that has seen its many natural resources drain outside of its borders to make wealthy almost everyone involved except for the Congolese people: The Belgians, the Americans, the Chinese, Mobutu, the Rwandans, etc. The image of the vast Congo River, always emptying into the Atlantic Ocean, a constant state of draining of the country, is the metaphor of a constant extraction of resources—everyone else but the Congolese being enriched—creating sort of a national self image of relentless depletion. This, in turn, contributes to a certain rawness—a caustic quality of relationships and of life in general in the Congo—until, that is, one gets below the surface and understands the deep sense of hospitality that is present there.
Ruth, Hana and I attended a luncheon meeting in which we had a chance to learn about programs that repatriate refugees to Rwanda. MCC provides assistance to these programs. Outreach workers (“animators”) go into the remote areas to identify Rwandan refugees who have been there since the mid-1990s, work to convince them that it is safe to go back to Rwanda, bring them to the church to meet the pastor, and sometimes to their own homes, out of the jungles and on to the UNHCR refugee processing centers. We met Rev. Bulambo Lembelembe.
Peace and Reconciliation, Sanitization, Lobbying, Advocacy, Mapping
Later, we had supper on a large porch overlooking Lake Kivu. The food took a long time to come, and we listened to frogs that sounded a bit like little bells. Because our food took so long, when it finally came we ate it in a hurry, and left the restaurant after 9 PM. The streets were almost deserted, and the driver drove rapidly, seemed a bit worried. I asked if there was a curfew in Bukavu and although there isn’t a formal one in place, there is a sense that after a certain hour the streets are unsafe.
Friday, July 13
The morning sounds outside of our room in the Swedish mission are birdsong, roosters crowing, children playing and people talking, some distant drumming and at one point a band, sounding like a military band with lots of brass, playing the Congo national anthem. There are some large cana lilies in the courtyard outside, also honeysuckle and large poinsettia bushes and purple coneflowers. Yesterday, someone gave me another flower, unnamed, and said that it is good to eat. Indeed, it did taste sweet.
was a cook who made some breakfast for us. She was sweet and smiling, albeit with a glint of fear in her eyes, fear that I would at any minute try to start speaking French with her. She overheard me trying with someone else and saw that I was not someone to be trifled with.
Acronyms are complicated eg. FDLR (Force Democratique for the Liberation of Rwanda--Hutu) FARDC (Congolese army), FNL (Burundian rebel group), DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo).
attended a meeting with leaders of the repatriation program. The meeting was called to gather together about 15 traditional chiefs from the areas where the Rwandan refugees live. These are refugees from the 1994 Rwandan Hutu-Tutsi genocide. The refreshments included tea and biscuits. There was a huge bowl of sugar and another huge bowl of powdered milk. The Congolese way of making tea includes putting the tea bag in a cup of hot water and then spooning many spoonfuls of sugar and man more spoonsful of powdered milk into the cup.
One of the speakers was an army (FARDC) spokesperson Chinyabuuma, military commander of S. Kivu province, who spoke with great authority and a sense of self importance. We had previously met Rev. Bulambo Lembelembe—who recently came to US and Canada as a part of an MCC delegation in April—and he was sitting, in his clerical collar, next to Chinyabuuma as the ECC representative. We sat with Chinyabuuma at lunch and one on one he was just as emphatic and speechifying as he was with the larger audience.
There was discussion of the “cessation clause” and that it was postponed. This clause would stop the designation of refugees as refugees, which would make it more difficult for the church to encourage them to go back to Rwanda. The churches were instrumental in making the postponement happen.
The United Nations mission in eastern Congo (MONUSCO) has been there for 11 years with the goal of demobilization of Rwandan combatants and repatriation of Rwandan refugees. Radio programs with personal testimonials from repatriates, pamphlets dropped over the remote areas and telephones are used in their effort. There are transit centers where the voluntary repatriates gather. From there the soldiers/ combatants go on to the MONUSCO assembly centers and the refugees go on to the UNHCR assembly centers.
Tim Lind designated Hana as MCC photographer. He asked Hana to take a lot of photos at this meeting, and indeed she walked around the room, getting a lot of shots of the speakers and audience, some closeups.
A sign outside of a building in Bukavu—“English School—Meet us for Excellency and Quality.”
Serge drove Hana and me through Bukavu while Ruth had some meetings. We traveled to an old university, to a park on the outskirts of the city, to some very scenic overlooks around the city, along a soccer field where some kids were playing (who didn’t appreciate their photo being taken). Driving in Congo seems very aggressive—much as Ruth describes it—a lot of scolding and yelling out the window if that is deemed necessary to make a point. When driving, it seems, might makes right, and in general, a SUV is always “right” no matter what the driver decides to do. Congo is, by the way, where Ruth learned to drive.
Perhaps related, now I can understand better how Ruth describes driving in Congo and the aggressiveness that is required, and I can understand Masasa’s personality better too. Sort of an “in your face-ness” personality.
Serge pointed out a former house of Mobutu which, he told us, is now owned and cared for by one of his sons. He reflected that in Bukavu there was life on the streets 24/7, now the streets are deserted after 9PM. Serge stopped and bought boat tickets for us to cross Lake Kivu in the morning.
The drive through Bukavu was sometimes overwhelming, especially when we approached the market. The streets were packed solid, shoulder to shoulder it seemed, with people and motorbikes—just a mass of humanity. With a multitude of little dramas being worked out between people everywhere we looked. It was fascinating and also a little depressing for some reason. Perhaps it had to do with the desperation and the sheer volume of people everywhere, all trying their best to make ends meet and many, no doubt, not doing so well.
Hana was cautious about photos because we were told that taking casual shots, even out of car windows, is often met with hostility.
We had supper at the Lodge Co-Co. Ruth bought a T-shirt with the Lodge name on the front and the back of the T-shirt saying “Back From Congo.” Part of the menu was titled “Slow Food”. The slow food movement started in Europe (France?) and is a reaction against fast food, preparing food quickly and eating it quickly. So this food is prepared very slowly, a couple of hours perhaps, while the diners engage in conversation. The movement says that this encourages conversation, which is healthy, and also that the food tastes better. It seems that it is a subset of a broader issue to promote the “Slow Life Movement”, people need to just slow down, stop multi-tasking so much and get off those stupid cell phones! Because of our experience with the slow service the night before (without “slow food” being on the menu) we decided to make that part of the menu out of bounds this time.