There were always kids hanging out on our front porch. Sometimes I'd go out and speak Lingala with them. They loved to have their picture taken!

It was easy to make friends with the kids in the neighborhood. They were ideal for practicing my Lingala! It was great fun, although they liked to find the bounderies and push them :o)

Right across the street from our house was a school. So there was always lots of kids voices early in the morning, and the boys liked to play soccer in the street there in the afternoon.

The World cup factored big into our time in Ouesso. The mayor provided a big screen television for people to watch it on...in the field right outside our house! So from about 3-10pm every day we got to listen to the sports announcers and the cheers of the crowd. That's our house to the left of the photo. Those two disks you see above the trees are some kind of really tall radio tower.

One of the cool surprises of our trip was for the first week there was a Swedish missionary staying with us in the house who had worked in Ouesso years and years ago (he's the white haired man on the right). It was his first visit after like 40 years. Many of the church leaders we met in Ouesso had been trained by that man, so they really honored him. We felt like we got to be part of a historic moment.

This is just a preview of things to come. My teammates Byron and Annette and I are headed up north to Ouesso for 6 weeks. I don't know if I'll be able to blog or not but I thought you'd like to see where I will be. Our main purpose will be to study Lingala, a Congolese trade language. It will be my first experience outside of the city so I'm hoping to learn a lot about village life and travel in Congo.

This is the house we will stay in. It is owned by some of our colleagues in Brazzaville who are involved in a translation project for one of the languages in the area. We hope to follow up on the recent distribution of the first portions of Scripture in that language.

We are hoping to take a dugout canoe (with a motor) down to a village and stay for a week. We would like to visit some pygmy tribes and answer some language identification questions remaining in the area.

Sometimes life in Africa is like living in a fish bowl. Or perhaps a dolphin tank, where the spectators come to watch! This is Chantal (age 10) trying to do her school work with a flock of children looking in. I'm sure I will have an interesting time in Ouesso!

This is the church I have been going to. It is pastored by one of the employees in my office. It is an independent charismatic church. There are normally about 25 people in attendance I think. I REALLY enjoy the singing and dancing, and certainly wasn't let down by the service on Pentecost. The only problem is once I get the complicated clapping in sync with my feet moving I am unable to actually sing the song! I don't think the joke about not being able to chew gum and walk at the same time would make any sense to an African :o)

One of the pleasant surprises here has been my ability to keep in close contact with home. We don't have a very fast Internet connection but I'm still able to use Skype to call home. I just got off the phone with an hour and 15 minute conversation with my mom that cost me...NOTHING! Yay for Skype. Not only that, but we put a wireless router in my apartment building so we don't even have to go to the office to get online! As I write this I'm sitting at my very own dining room table. Who'd have thought?!!

This is Nicaise, one of the main translators of the Munukutuba New Testament that was recently published. He works for the Bible Society and we often see him there or at our own office. Everyone wanted me to take his photo with all the cameras and phones and flash drives around his neck :o)

I met the coolest girl the other day. She's from CA but she works out of Kenya. She came here to interview refugees who want to go to the United States. I took her out cloth shopping so she wanted to treat me to dinner. We ate at Hippo Campe, an Asian restaurant near where I live. We ate sooo much food! But she gets a really nice daily food allowance, so no worries! Thanks Jenny!

When we got to the restaurant there were all these white people. I was so surprised! So I asked the waiter what was going on and he said it was a US Embassy function. Cool! I even saw the new ambassador. We actually haven't had an embassy or an ambassador since the wars in the 90's, so it's cool to see things getting under way again. I hope they will host a ball and build a swimming pool! :o)

I took this picture more for the garbage than for the goat. It's hard to describe the way plastic bags and other trash just accumulate on the ground. This is in the middle of a neighborhood with sand roads. The goat is just wandering around free though he must belong to someone I'm sure.

The other day Elizabeth introduced me to some friends of hers who came over for a visit. It was a holiday (the equivalent of Labor Day) so they invited us over for a meal.

We in turn invited them over to our house. We supplied the chicken but Nadine worked the magic and made a delicious meal, probably the best African food I've had so far.

Alas, my roommates Elizabeth and Erica moved to another town called Nkayi. They even packed up Fiver the cat and took him with them on the airplane.

Actually, this is how the cat travelled to Nkayi. We called in a vet to sedate him, though he just kept stumbling around in a daze until we tied him up in this basket. He woke up that night in his new home!

This little guy was a surprise to find in my cupboard! I was like "Uh, what do I do now? That is completely disgusting." I thought I was just being a wuss but when I called in Elizabeth who has been in Africa a year and a half she freaked and was like "It's huge!!" We fed him to the cat.

I decided my profile pic needed a little spicing up. I love wearing funky african head scarves! I'll admit, on this day the cat was afraid of me. (Sorry I don't why the picture isn't showing up. Just click on the box, or else just look at the little profile photo).

Mundele on the Bus!!

Wednesday I had a funny experience here in Brazzaville. I went to the tailor to pick up some new outfits I had ordered and took the bus back home. I like taking the bus (vs a taxi) because it’s a point of contact with the people of this city and makes me feel more like a real person who lives here. The buses have various routes with certain stops. They are basically vans with four back seats. Each seat is made for 3 people, but of course they manage to squish 4 in each row.

This particular day I got in a bus that seemed especially cramped, only a few inches of leg room between the rows. After a couple of stops there weren’t any other passengers, just the driver, the monitor who collects the money and calls out for people to get on at each stop, and myself. So the monitor says to me “Vous allez au centre ville?” “Are you going downtown.” “No,” I said, “I’m getting off at Congo-Pharmacie.” “Oh, you live down there?” “Oui.”

Couple minutes later, a whole load of people want to get on. A lady tells her 2 year old son to climb in, but he just looks at me in terror and starts crying! Everyone starts laughing, including me, and I hear them saying “mundele” which means white person in Lingala. They’re like “Ha, ha, he’s afraid of the white lady.” The mom finally convinces him and they ride along with him staring at me in wide-eyed suspicion. I hear the monitor say the words “mundele” and “Congo-Pharmacie.” He’s basically telling everybody on the bus that the white lady is getting off at that stop. I turn to look at him and he seems a little surprised that I understood. I’m thinking, come on now, how many times a day do you think I hear the word “mundele” ringing in my ears? He starts laughing and saying something about “les blancs, les blancs” (white people, but in French this time). The lady next to me turns around and yells something which I think was to the effect of “How would you like to be talked about like that?”

So we get to Congo-Pharmacie. Now with the limited leg room it’s a little hard to get out. Not to mention to climb over someone to get out. Not to mention the fact that that someone has a child in her lap. So I tumble out of the bus with everyone staring at the “mundele” who is getting out at Congo-Pharmacie. I mean, they’ve been waiting for this right? The monitor is laughing his head off. “Les blancs, les blancs!”

This whole time the monitor has been having trouble with change. You may think that AIDS or poverty or whatever is the biggest issue people face here. Nope, it’s lack of small change. Seriously, it’s a problem every day, everywhere I go! Well, a bus ride costs 150 francs (about 30 cents). All I have is 2,000 ($4). He has 1,500 but for the other 350 he starts giving me 5 and 25 cent pieces (the equivalent of pennies and nickels). I say, « C’est quoi ça? Qu’est-ce que je peux faire avec ça? » What is this? What can I do with this?! The whole time he’s laughing, “Les blancs, les blancs.” So I say, “Take it, I’ll just pay for the place of the lady and her son.” His eyes light up and he smiles and jumps back in the van. As they drive away he hangs out the window, “C’est bon, c’est bon! Ha, ha, les blancs!” It’s good, it’s good! Ha, ha, white people. I walked home unable to wipe the smile off my face.

Le Blog Déjà Vu

OK, so for those of you who have been faithfully reading my blog for awhile, you have to check this out, it’s hilarious. A girl in my organization is studying French in Switzerland now and her blog is like déjà vue! (Hi Angi! Yes I'm writing about you) She was living in my apartment and eating Jean-Pierre’s food (now she’s living somewhere else), she’s hanging out with my friends, eating cheese, talking about how expensive the restaurants are, not able to speak Spanish without French coming out, getting inspired by the outdoor beauty, going to my school and my church. It’s kind of freaky actually. Check it out: http://tencentangi.blogspot.com/

It was just another thing to make me reminisce about my time in Europe. I wrote this last week: I don’t think I realized how good I had it in Neuchâtel! I’ve been looking at some pics, marveling that I lived in such a beautiful place and got to do so many cool things and met so many wonderful people. I’ve been in ecstasy thinking about the things I ate, especially the way I got to eat chez Jean-Pierre on a regular basis. Not that I’m not experiencing interesting things here or being poorly fed, but I’m coming to a new appreciation of how magical my sojourn in Europe was.

Good times. I was in a hurry to move on with my life, but now I'm realizing I'd love to go back, at least for a visit.

Lest anyone think I'm suffering here, I just need to tell you that I made THE most delicious grilled cheese sandwich yesterday, which is saying quite a bit since they're my specialty and mean quite a lot to me.

More than one way to boil water...Who knew!?!

OK, so when you live in a multi-cultural community, the things you used to think were normal/standard/obvious now become foreign/relative/optional. Take boiling water, for example. Now if you were to boil water, say to make a hot drink, how would you do it? APPARENTLY everybody in England, Ireland, and Australia owns what is called a "kettle." Now what comes to mind when I say that word? If you're an American, you need to hearken back to your college days and remember those electric gadgets for boiling water in your dorm room. That's right, folks, proper British tea is boiled in a hot pot. I for one, am quite disillusioned.

I boil water in a "tea kettle." A pot that goes on the stove. Somehow this just seems right. To the rest of the world this just seems stupid. I mean, this is 2006 afterall. Sigh. What do you think? How do you boil your tea water?

OK, here's a funny thing that has become commonplace...peanuts are stored and sold in old liquor bottles. It's pretty funny to see all of them around our house...Really, we just store peanuts in them, I promise.

OK, we may call him "Terrorist" and "Little Devil" and "Naughty Boy" but Fiver can be sooooooo adorable. He provides endless hours of entertainment and conversation. He's moving with my roomies to another town and I don't know what I'm going to do! Here he is with "Reading Lolita in Tehran" a book I highly recommend, especially for literature buffs or anyone interested in Islam.

It doesn't matter where you're sitting or standing, beware of flying furry critters landing on your shoulder! He used to always jump on my shoulders while I was eating my oats and yogurt for breakfast. He'd position himself right next to my face, hoping that just once I'd miss my mouth and he could have a spoonful of Quaker goodness.

The cat also likes to climb onto the window shades. It's rather cute and it's funny how comfortable he makes those hard slats look.

Fiver the TP fiend strikes again

Holidays in Congo

Wow, so everyone really has been clamoring to know why Easter isn't celebrated here! I talked to one of my colleagues who is a Congolese pastor about this yesterday during coffee break. Basically what I gather is that the celebrations that are important here are still the traditional ones, not the ones that have come from outside the culture. For example the grieving process is still really important--for a year you don't shave or you dress all in black all the time and then on the one year anniversary of the death (say of your father) you have a big party and officially end the mourning.

I guess Easter is somewhat acknowledged in the churches, but it's not really of cultural importance here. I think maybe it's partly just a poor understanding of the significance and the way Easter corresponds with the Jewish Passover. The Catholics, however, are very much linked with the liturgical calendar, so they celebrate Easter, but I would be surprised if the celebration extends much after the church service is over. I don't think it's a "family holiday" like it is for us.

On Easter Sunday I went to 7:30am Mass at the cathedral just up the road with my teammates Byron and Annette. Many of the protestant churches here don't celebrate Easter, so we decided visit the Catholics. The service was wonderful. I especially loved the girls in little Girl Scout type uniforms dancing in the aisles and the choir that sang from up in the balcony. Afterwards we had a delicious breakfast of fresh pastries, papaya with lemon, fried plantains, and coffee.

I ate Easter dinner with my 3 roomies and our Kenyan friend Patricia. I was quite impressed with our roast chicken and mashed pototoes, salad and fried bananas. It wasn't mommy's cooking and I missed my sister's deviled eggs, but we didn't do too bad.

On Easter night we had our usual Sunday night service, but we focused on the Resurrection. My friends Gabrielle and Elizabeth led us in a great time of worship.

I led a meditation time where we thought about the life God has brought to us, the things He's resurrected or redeemed for us. When we'd thought of something we each went up to the cross and placed a flower on it. The symbolism was quite apparent as the wooden cross filled up with colorful branches. I thought of two areas where the Lord has brought me life: In my singleness, which in some cultures is considered a curse but which the Lord has used to help me serve Him more, and in my boisterous personality, which has always been a struggle for me but which the Lord has used to keep me dependent on His grace.

Of course after the service we had our usual Sunday night icecream. These are my friends Heather (17 year old tutor) and Brent (7).

Waves--another song

The wind just kicked up outside of my boat
And I can hear the rain start to pour
Don’t know when I’ll see the end of this storm
But I know the One that I call my Lord.

He is Jesus, He’s the One who calms the waves
He walks on water asking for my faith
He calls to me to join Him on that lake
Don’t be afraid, in spite of these waves.

He is sleeping inside of my boat
I start to wonder, will I stay afloat?
Seized with fear I cry, “Save me, O Lord!”
And he awakens to speak peace to my storm.

He is Jesus, He’s the One who calms the waves
He walks on water asking for my faith
He calls to me to join Him on that lake
Don’t be afraid, in spite of these waves.

I will weather this storm
I will step out of my boat
I will walk on water in faith
And in the rain and on these waves.

(PS: My songs kind of make me sound unhappy. I'm not. But often the hard things inspire creativity.)

A Song About Nothing: The Story of My Love Life

God has started giving me songs since I've been here in Africa. I wrote maybe 9 within a month's span. Most of them are based on Bible passages. Some of them can pass for poetry, so I'll post them here, although they're certainly more powerful with the music. I have written one melancholic love song, which for some reason I've decided to post first. Careful what you say about it, it's quite personal!!


What can I sing?
It’s all been sung before.
Nothing left to say
when all is said and done.
Nothing new here
under this sun.

It’s the same old story
of a love unreturned.
Nothing left to write;
let’s just close the books.
Nothing new to see;
it’s last season’s look.

Yet I’m reviewing
this issue again.
Nothing’s sorted out
‘cause I’ve kept it all in.
Nothing to end
when we didn’t begin.

But I need to tell you what’s been on my mind,
Even if it’s not new or inspired.

‘Cause I can’t pretend to be alright
When you don’t know what’s inside my heart.

I’ve called you friend and brother,
But have I told you that I love you?

What can I sing?
It’s all been sung before.
Nothing left to say
when all is said and done.
Nothing new here
under this sun.

We have storms a few times a week. They usually roll in like this from across the river. I like it at night when I lay in my bed listening to the rain hammering the metal roof of the carport just outside my window and then suddenly, though I wouldn't have thought it possible, it starts pouring down even harder. The thunder usually just consists of ominous rumblings in the distance, but every once in a while there will be a bright flash and before I can get to "One-one-thousand, two..." a thunder clap hits that jolts my body and makes my heart race. It's quite exhilarating.

Probably not the smartest idea to be on the wet metallic roof during a lightening storm, but hey, look at the cool picture I took :o)

The Price Isn't Right

I live in possibly the most expensive city in Africa. Prices are outrageous. Not just compared to other African countries, but compared to anywhere. It depends on what you’re buying, but lots of things are more expensive even than what I would pay in the US. Actually, the US has some really cheap stuff (Thank you, China). There are some things that are less expensive here, like some fruits and veggies, but there are other things that are so astronomical you can only laugh and wonder if anyone has ever bought it before.

Examples:
Pineapple $2 (good compared to US)
Spaghetti noodles $0.50 (I think that’s cheap, but they’re probably cheap everywhere)
Board game like Clue or Monopoly $120 (seriously)
Large avocado $0.20 (awesome!)
Tailor made skirt and shirt $12 (Does anyone even use tailors in the US?)
Ice-cream cone $1 (nice)
1 plate of Chinese food $10 (This is the European price for Asian food…no cheap Chinese take-out like in the US. By the time you buy a drink and some spring rolls you’re up to $15/person)
Small bottle of Coke $0.50 (reasonable)
1 liter of juice $3 (expensive in my opinion, but worth it sometimes)
Bottle of olive oil $12 (too spendy, but necessary sometimes)
Small wedge of cheese $6 (spendy but it’s the cheapest available and it’s worth it)
Roll of toilet paper $1 (use sparingly)
Long, skinny baguette $0.50 (cheap compared to US, but normal for Europe)
Can of Pringles $3 (expensive but nice to know they’re there when you need them)
Laundry detergent $7 (expensive but what can you do?)
Shaving cream $10 (forget it, use soap)
TV $300 (don’t need it or want it)

OK, I’m having a hard time thinking of the really expensive stuff because I never buy it. You can live without most of it. My roomies and I spend $30 each per week on groceries. It seems like a lot, but colleagues from places besides the US think it’s not much and even our American colleagues think we’re doing well.

An important thing to keep in mind when considering these prices is that the average Congolese person makes $800 in a year. I think our guards at the center earn about $80/month. They are obviously not partaking in a large portion of the items available in this city. I don’t know how they manage. A house lady who does cooking and cleaning makes maybe $6/day, but usually only finds part-time work. Another factor, however, is that if the employer has the means they are expected to pay for things like medical expenses and school fees which would otherwise be way out of the employee’s budget. Somehow people manage. And somewhere there are some very rich Africans buying some very expensive things because there aren’t enough ex-pats here to keep the deli stocked with European cheeses or buy up the overpriced entertainment items.

Not Mr. Roger's Neighborhood

I haven’t written much about my home here in Brazzaville. My neighborhood is rather sleepy, but it’s interesting nonetheless. Our compound actually used to be the North Korean embassy (yes, we have performed the necessary exorcisms to be able to live and work here). Next door is the Cuban embassy. A few lots down is the United Nations. Kofi Annan was actually here last week. I didn’t see him, but we did notice a prodigious number of street sweepers around town. I’m sure Kofi was impressed. At the other end of the street is a cathedral. When we take a taxi home we say “between the cathedral and the UN.”

Across the street from our place is a typical little “Mauritanian store” (many businesses here are identified by the nationality of the people who usually run them). It sells anything from rice to shampoo. I typically go there for cold pop or emergency toilet paper. Went there last week when, as I was in the middle of making tabouli, I discovered the couscous in the cupboard was full of nasty bugs. I got myself a weevil-free box and was back to the kitchen in no time.

Speaking of the kitchen, it’s a dangerous place. I tried to cut my thumb off today. That was 5 hours ago and I’m still bleeding through my bandaid. Not that you needed to know, but I needed to complain.

OK, I guess that’s all I have to say about my neighborhood. A few blocks away is the Meridian Hotel, apparently a nice place to go swimming or take tennis lessons, but I haven’t done either. Also nearby is the university, which we visited last week to present the linguistics department with the latest edition of the Ethnologue (the world’s most extensive catalog of languages, published by my very own organization, I’m so proud). I might even take a linguistics course at the uni. Good way to learn the French vocab I'll need for writing linguistics papers and a great venue for meeting relevant Congolese.

About a week ago I hosted a smoothie party at my place. Smoothies are fun in Congo because of all the nice tropical fruit! FYI, passion fruit juice has an amazing amount of flavor! (If you have the patience to strain out all the seeds!)

Everyone filled their cups with fruit from the dining room table and then took them into the kitchen to blend it with yogurt, honey, and juice.

The smoothies were highly enjoyable! This is the SIL Congo country director's wife, Cami, in my living room.

Transported by a Tune

It’s amazing the emotions a song can evoke. I was sitting in this great café, The Exotic Palace, here in Brazzaville this morning, enjoying the air-conditioning, eyeing the case of baked delicacies, and marveling at the size of the pot of coffee placed before me, when the sound of James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful” started playing. It struck my spirit with tender force, practically bringing me to tears.

My introduction to this song was driving along the highway at night with my sister and her son after just getting back from 8 months in Switzerland. The song came on and my sister instinctively turned up the volume. My heart was pierced as my 4-year-old nephew’s sweet voice from the back seat chimed in on the chorus “You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. It’s true.” He knows most of the other words too, but I haven’t heard it that many times to be able to remember them. James Blunt is one of those amazing singers, though, who makes a song carry strong feelings of sentimentality even if it’s the first time you’ve heard it. So between this innate nostalgia and the memory this brought to mind, I was very touched today in that great café here in Brazzaville, Congo of all places.

A Muddy Tale

I’m feeling the need to write something tonight. Haven’t done enough writing since I got here in Africa. Well, I did write 5 songs last week, so I’m getting out my creative energy, but I haven’t recorded enough about my experiences and observations. It’s important to write those things down because with each passing day everything that’s different here is becoming commonplace and pretty soon I won’t even notice it anymore.

On Thursday I had an interesting excursion. My German friend Lydia wanted to go to my tailor and she is a very busy person so we went as scheduled even though it had been raining for quite some time. Our African colleague Lidi tried to tell us that there would be a lot of mud, but we just put on our plastic sandals and said Oh, that won’t bother us. When we arrived in Lidi’s neighborhood we got out of the taxi and saw that the road would be difficult to traverse. Locals were carefully picking their way through the soggy mess. We decided to take a back road which ended up being worse than if we’d just gone straight there. We found ourselves zigzagging across the flooded areas, trying to find solid ground wherever we could. Somehow Lidi managed to not get a speck on her. Meanwhile I had the first-time experience of having my shoes suction to the ground. I kept having to slip out of them and dig them out because I couldn’t pull up on them with my feet!

For me this was just a funny little adventure. I haven’t really reflected on what those living conditions would be like. Some people’s houses were flooded all around the outside. I’m not even sure how they were getting in and out. It wasn’t raining at the time we were walking, so lots of people were milling around outside. It couldn’t be healthy or sanitary. The mud was accented with all the garbage around, creating a sort of chunky sludge. That’s one thing I’m sure I’ll stop noticing soon—the trash that decorates all the streets. Plastic bags are plentiful. Empty bottles and cartons are everywhere. It’s not uncommon to see a lone sandal melded into the dirt. I saw a man raking the street the other day and noted the irony that the leaves were more attention than the litter that is strewn all about.

One thing that has been a suprise is that I feel quite safe here. My biggest fear is falling off the road...All the streets are lined with ditches where the abundant rain can flow. They're generally full of garbage and nasty standing water. It would not be hard to fall into one, but it would make for a very grumpy day! But hey, if falling in a ditch is the biggest threat, I think I'm doing pretty well.

Just wanted to post a new pic for my blogger profile

Here's a praying mantis that hung out in my bathroom for a day.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it! For the first 5 weeks I was in Africa my ears were plugged up. No, not from the plane ride--from just plain earwax. Gross I know. But check out the cool remedies I got to try! This is an "ear candle." You can buy them at health food stores. It didn't work for me, though. I finally had a doctor wash out my ears and then I was shocked at how loud everything was! The birds and bugs were amazing!

This is some fish and plantains I ate at a hotel in Cameroon. Just thought you'd like to know. It was good.

This is the cat who lives in my appartment. His name is Fiver. Don't be tricked by his cuteness. He's really the devil. Luckily he's moving out in a couple of months. I'm sure I'll miss him then because he provides a lot of entertainment, but...see next photo.

These are the sorts of things the cat does every day. This was yesterday. Today he bit through the cord of my headphones. I'm a little grumpy about it.

One of the coolest things I did on my trip to Cameroon was go canoeing through the rain forest. We checked out 2 canoes owned by the international school and set off for a few hours down the river and back, stopping for a picnic along the way.

It was absolutely beautiful.

Slash and burn?

During my trip to Cameroon 2 of my colleagues (a Swiss and an American) got married. Katherine, the bride, asked me to take pictures while she got ready in the morning. It was fascinating to watch the hairdresser quickly braid up her hair and then proceed to sow on other hair! She looked fab.

I would describe it as an "African flavored American wedding." They did all the normal American stuff, but it was spiced up with the clapping, yelling, and dancing of the Cameroonians.

Back in the Land of the Blogging

Greetings, Oh Patient Ones!

Sorry, I went to Cameroon for 3 weeks and didn't use the Internet while I was there. But I'm back in Brazza and will be your faithful Blogger once again. I'm trying to post some pics, but I'm getting some error messages, so we'll see.

It's nice to have another African country to compare Congo to. Boy am I glad I live here! The people are so much more laid back, the traffic isn't as crazy, and it's just generally better. I don't know, something about getting marriage proposals every time I went to the market just really turned me off of Yaounde :o)

Here's some of my colleagues who work in Central Africa. They are Swiss, German, Canadian, and American. Many of us are wearing the "wedding pagne," the cloth Katherine picked out for the guests to wear.

After the wedding we of course partied with lots of African food and dancing. It was fun!