More From My First Day In The Camp

The camp is very large and spread out in small enclaves. The place is very clean and the people here work hard to live as well as possible. There is a great deal of committee work and collaboration.

I met with the English Club for some time. We talked about their goals and current activities. We talked about the differences between British and American English and why the former was latter was far superiour :)  We did our first contextual lesson when they told me the secretary of the club was working out in a garden. I asked them what that exactly meant and we started to delve down into details - verbs, vocabulary, tenses, etc. We had a good time and they liked the methodology and were willing to permit me to continue without teaching grammar overtly. We need to get a hold of some dictionaries and I am working on that.

More of the shelters that flow around the landscape. The refugees are from the Central African Republic, just 15 miles to the north.

Most of the people here take very good care of the camp and themselves. It is beautiful place of vibrant fabrics and earnest smiles.

Not sure what this building is yet, but I like it.

Walking back up to the car after a great day. To my left is the president of the English Club, to my right the president of the camp. Everyone was gracious and excited to get started. They asked if I could just live in the camp with them (something I would love) and I had to explain that it would be against UNHCR policy. They were also a bit disappointed that I need to leave each day by three for security reasons in case we have mechanical difficulties on the hour long journey back to the UNHCR center. I will be there Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I plan to add Saturdays as well. I am ready to work!

Nostalgia Defeats Nausea!

I woke up on my third day in the DRC to get ready for an early flight to Libenge, partway to my destination. To my chagrin, I woke up with "running belly" as my Jamaican friends call it. I was not pleased at all by the development. My stomach hurt and I wasn't sure I could safely eat or drink much. I managed to make it to the small municipal airport then bounced around from office to office as I navigated customs, immigration, etc. I had the sudden feeling I wasn't ever going to tell someone who is lost, unsure, or of a different language just to go somewhere. I was confused at each step of the process and a little more help at times would have been comforting. I am also sure those folks thought they were being clear and helpful.

The two flights on this plane were fine despite my stomach. I was looking forward to getting to Libenge then taking a smooth boat ride up the Ubangi River to Zongo where the UN facilities were. When I landed, the UN representatives met me and were very friendly. I was a bit dismayed when the told me that they would be taking me by car instead of by boat. I had an idea what that meant in terms of road conditions and my ailing stomach. My driver, Julius, was very friendly and I shared the trip with two other passengers going on to the Central African Republic. We didn't waste much tine and were off quickly. Off quickly as well was my notion that the roads in southern Tanzania were the worst roads in the world - hah! I am totally impressed by the Toyota Landcruiser. I laughed at the places that vehicle went. The driver, who also speaks Swahili, told me the roads were bad. I laughed and said, not bad just fun. He smiled. We crossed bridges I wouldn't walk over, dodged pigs in puddles, families on motorcycles, woman carrying ridiculous loads on their heads, and young kids who would veer off the road just in front of us crashing comically and smiling. Goats, chickens, ducks, dogs, and children were everywhere. The sixty mile journey took five hours.

 I needn't have worried about my stomach at all (I did forget the cardinal rule of travelling here - bring toilet paper!), for I was immediately immersed in a wonderful deja vu back to my days in Tanzania travelling all over. The road, the sites, the people, the animals, everything was familiar and comforting. Most of all, the hundreds of smiles and waves along the way distracted me from all things internal. We stopped by the refugee camp as we swapped out fuel pumps and I got my first distant glimpse of the reason I am here. I was very overwhelmed and humbled by the prospect of serving these people for two years.
An hour or so later we rolled into Zongo no worse for the wear. My two new friends headed off to the ferry for Bangui and I was introduced to my new lodgings and the supportive staff here at the UNHCR center. I slept soundly.,............
More soon

Julius, my excellent driver at the end of long journey.

Up Country Tomorrow

My few days in the comfort of Kinshasa are almost at an end. Tomorrow I will fly north on a UNHCR charter flight then maybe catch a boat for the camp. I say maybe because there is always a degree of ambiguity here, and I don't mind it at all. If and when I do get on the boat, Bryce assures me it will be an incredibly beautiful journey up the Ubangi River. I am very excited about getting to the post, and the uncertainty just adds more flavor.
I couldn't be more thrilled with Bryce's vision for this project - I understand it and buy in wholeheartedly while he is giving me the latitude to develop it my own way. I love being on the ground negotiating educational programs and the thought of blazing new trails in this area (refugee education) is really a dream fulfillment for me. I can't wait to get there and suss things out. I know I will find eager and intelligent students and teachers who will enjoy a few different perspectives on their educational experiences. There has been a great deal of groundwork laid by Bryce and his staff so I am not starting at zero. Much like a conversation we had the other day, I feel like Mt. Everest rather than Mt. Kilimanjaro - Everest being a mountain on top of mountains, Kilimanjaro being a free standing mountain.
I am glad I have two months for this adventure, time to evaluate, plan, cooperate, laugh, and write. I am getting paid to do this?  :)

So I Have Become A Big Sissy Boy (apologies for the gender slight)

This morning I completed my trip to Kinshasa via Angola around noon. I was beat down by the ordeal on Sunday (14 hours in the plane and the chaos that ensued). We left this morning at 5am for the airport and made it out to the runway by 8. Just as things were looking good, the same litany began again - an announcement in French, lots of murmurs followed by an incredulous protest, then the muffled English explanation I could barely understand. Something about the airport shutting down due to a presidential flight arriving. I was beginning to think I was cursed. The delay was minimal however, and we were soon airborne. I was delighted, but not surprised, by the applause that erupted when we touched down followed by a few dozen "merci beaucoup, Mon 'Dieu" blessings. After a little more delay, I was met by the embassy expediter and taken out to a van. He loaded my baggage and then disappeared leaving me to wait twenty or so minutes in the warm African sun as he fetched some CDC folks from the same flight. At that point I was tired and a bit self indulgent with my concocted misery, at least until I struck up a conversation with one of the CDC women in the van,

We laughed and talked about the flight and the various personalities we had encountered. When she mentioned a young African girl and her matronly white escort, I smiled. I had been behind them in line for awhile and was enchanted by the petite, quiet ten year old. She clung to a very large doll and patiently withstood all the delays and chaos as only a innocent child could. I briefly wondered how the ordeal was on her, at least until my back started hurting and I returned to own travails. Anyway, the CDC worker told me she had gotten to know the little girl and the woman escorting her back from France. I was told that woman was a volunteer and that she was bringing the little girl back from Paris with a new heart. At that moment I discovered again that I have a degree of humility, and that I still have some maturing left to do.

Immediately, I began to reframe the previous 36 hours as I should have from the beginning. Instead of focusing on the inconvenient circumstances and slight degree of ambiguity, I now thought about the refugees that I would soon be dealing with. How they must have felt with no guarantees as they were disrupted and displaced. How they must of have feared for their lives those of their families. How they must have worked together to survive instead of pushing forward in line to get to the five star hotel a little earlier. I am smiling now remembering that little girl's stoic stare and fully aware that I have some work to do. I will try :)

Iran Or Angola?

When I got to the airport in Chicago, the lady at the counter told me I was booked for Iran. After several minutes, she cleared it up and I was off to the DRC, sort of. The flight was delayed but I got to Paris ok and found my gate to Kinshasa. We boarded on time, but then sat there. This was to become a theme that day. The other pattern was the myriad of updates I was to receive started first in French then in English. This would prove problematic as the messages steadily grew worse - the predominately French speaking crowd would listen intently to the message in French, then would break into a cacophony of irritation when I was trying to listen to the heavily accented English message.
We sat in the plane and were eventually updated that seven passengers were missing so Air France needed to go back into the hold and retrieve their luggage. This took much longer than the prescribed time. Finally, the French pilot came on with a very candid explanation. He started by saying he understood we were frustrated but that there was only one baggage loader and the bags ended up being on either end of the hold. TMI I thought until he added a bit at the end of the message - "Oh, and we are replacing our flight computer, this should only take a few minutes.........."
We eventually took off and the flight was ok. My back was hurting and I couldn't get very comfortable. They fed us around noon and we looked forward to arriving in Kinshasa just an hour late. However, when we started our approach, a thunderstorm rolled into the area so we circled the city and the Congo river for 45 minutes. Finally, we headed south and started climbing - I knew this wasn't good news. Evidently, a large hole had appeared in the runway from the rain or lightening strike so we were off to Luanda, Angola to land. Then the information got more bizarre.
The word spread that the runaway had been damaged the day before and that Air France hadn't been notified. Regardless, we were off to Angola, a place not too thrilled to be inundated with a plane full of Congolese. When we landed an hour later, we sat on the runaway for another two hours with no AC waiting for Air France to negotiate with the Angola authorities. Things got restless and heated on the plane, but as usual, was mediated by warm African laughter. By midnight (sixteen hours after we had boarded the plane) we were allowed into the terminal.
We were tired, frustrated, and confused as we walked in. Immediately, the took our passports and we all queued up down a hallway. After another hour, the 200 of us realized they were calling our names individually to the front. It was difficult to hear and the Portuguese accents didn't help. When our names were called, we came forward and were allowed to go into the terminal. We did not get our passports back but we were directed to transportation outside to our hotels. I squeezed into the first bus and we sat there in the heat for twenty minutes as the driver demanded to know how he was being paid. Once that was settled, a hundred or so of us were taken to the Hotel Tropico who had no  idea we were coming.
Upon arriving, we found a lone desk clerk staring at us as if to say "you have got be kidding." A few other people came out of the back and things got more confusing. They wanted our passports which were still at the airport and they also were unfamiliar with the vouchers the airlines had given us. I stood there quietly as the chaos unfolded around me.  Finally, I got my room and headed upstairs for the night. That was eleven hours ago....I haven't eaten for a day, but I did sleep for eight hours! The newest update is that we will leave tomorrow morning at 5am for the airport - fingers crossed.
The hotel room is nice and I am contemplating drifting down to the restaurant once the initial crowd subsides.
More from Luanda later, stay tuned :)

Twelve Hours From Departure

It is 4:30am and I will be leaving in just over twelve hours. It hasn't sunk in yet, I haven't let it. I tell myself I have been distracted by the seemingly endless loose ends that need to be tended to before I leave for two months, that the end of an academic term is always hectic without an impending trip of this nature anyway. Truth be told, I am afraid that I will be afraid. The last time I worked in a refugee camp, I lived there for two years. Two years to learn, make mistakes, mend them, and struggle to create small meaningful gestures and relationships that would justify my presence there. Now, two months not two years.
I will be fine, but the weight of things is slowly slipping down over my shoulders. It is a sober thing to face a dream that is built on the welfare of others. I am not a doctor, I am not saving lives, but my oath is no less sacred. I want to take all the good things a career in education has afforded me and tangle it all up in the good faith and trust I will find in that camp in the northeast corner of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I want to laugh, teach, write, and to stare up into the heavens each night knowing I have stripped myself of my ego and selfish needs to do some simple things purely. It is no longer atonement for a lifetime of regrets or mistakes - it is the communion of education, honest and bare. I don't think I am afraid, but maybe I should be :)

Almost There (the DRC)

I am heading out this Saturday in the early evening. I have an eight hour flight to Paris then another eight hour flight to Kinshasa. I am excited, yet still not packed. The school did a nice article today:
https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/39151356/05%2013%2015.pdf