Daily Life Begins!

It’s a bit long, but this is my usual daily routine:

So, my day usually begins around 6, a little before. I get dressed—but I get to put on a maid outfit. J The first thing we do in the morning is clean the residence where we live. I get do clean the living room, study room, and the living room with one of the nursing students. I honestly love it. It’s a wonderful way to start the day, opening the windows and cleaning the rooms. I get to make sure the beautiful residence I’m staying in gets taken care of. It’s a little oasis in the middle of the poor rural-urban neighborhood it’s in. I have my own bathroom with potable running water! That truly shows you how majestic it is! It makes you feel at home knowing that every morning (except Sundays J) everyone you live with is cleaning some area in the residences to ensure its stays nice.

Ok, so at 7:30 we have breakfast together and then we are off at 8. It’s an early morning, but I’m beginning to get used to it.

I help Carolina with her French from 8-10 and then we head off to ISSI so we can prepare for our courses. I prepare for my classes until about 1ish and then have lunch with some of the doctors that work at Monkole and the director of ISSI.

Then from 2ish to 4ish I help with some of the development projects that the Monkole hospital initiative is working on. This hasn’t become quite concrete because I’m supposed to have had a meeting with the administrative director he hasn’t come. I have come to learn the African way of life. J Things march at their own rhythm here and you just have to have patience and wait. I will have another entry on this subject when I know more.

Then until 5ish I prepare the last minute details of my class for the day. From 5 to 7ish is the class—Tues and Thurs are English (about 35ish students for now, but divided into 2 levels, one level a day) and Wed and Fris are Spanish (much better size—about 10, so all can come both days). This week was chaotic because I had to give a placement exam and Monkele Hospital sent us a list yesterday of 70 other people that were interested in the classes. The Hospital is covering half the payment of the class if the person attends regularly—they are considering it part of their professional formation. Lets see how many I have next week!!!

Then 7:15ish is dinner with everyone. From there we normally help pick-up and then around 8:15 we all get to sit in the living room and chat about the day or watch the news or a movie. After that I finally have some free time, although by 10 I’m already out. J

Oh and Saturday mornings I teach the nursing students at ISSI from 8-12pm (2hrs of Spanish and 2hrs of English).

It’s pretty packed but there are a few free spaces here and there. I love it though, my students are hilarious and there is not one class that isn’t interesting! I only speak in the language I’m teaching and it was so funny to see all their worried faces this week—by the end of the first class they were relieved to find out that they could still understand my if they just relaxed and also took gestures into account. I have doctors, and technicians, pharmacists and receptionists, and even one of the maids that helps at the residence. J I have people from all walks of life walking into my classroom!

And it finally hits...

I think today I finally realized how little help I can provide in the end of it all. I came to Kinshasa primarily to learn, that I already knew. But I also wanted to help—or in some way empower those that I will be teaching. I found out today that some of the students that live in the residence with me won’t be able to take my course because they can’t pay the small amount the Institute (ISSI—more info on the left panel) is asking for. I know that ISSI is asking for something reasonable and are not making any profit, but I felt so bad when a few of the girls told me they wouldn’t with a look of disappointment. Here I was and some of the girls living with me couldn’t learn the materials I had brought to teach. I talked to one of the directors in charge of residence and she told me the frank truth I needed to hear—I can’t put the weight of the world on my shoulders. True—I could do no more...instead I suggested that maybe one of the evenings we could have an open practice time were I could be available for those needing help with their homework and to practice with those that couldn’t come to the courses. She said that would be a good idea—and at least that was resolved for the moment.

And finally…I went on my walk today with Carolina (the other Spanish girl living in the residence who is giving classes on child birth to the nursing students) around the neighborhood and just five minutes into the walk I saw a child be run over by a car. At first I think I was in shock, but then I realized it was real. People started gathering to see what had happened and people started running towards the hospital (luckily it was right there—Monkele—next to the school were I’m teaching--the pic is the new hospital they are building, more on it later). I felt so helpless because I knew I could do nothing and that if I went to talk to them I would probably only agitate them more seeing as I was a foreigner with no tools to aide.

There are very wise women who are in charge at the residence where I live—they have come to learn what it means to help, but at the same time what it means to survive as a person. Tomorrow I begin my courses in spite of the day. At least today gave me a rejuvenation for preparing as much as possible to be able to teach as much as possible through the means I have to help—my courses.

Kisantu!!!!

Yesterday we went to the botanical gardens of Kinsantu. It took about 3 hours to get there on our bus and the scenery is beautiful! Getting there was a lot of fun…amazing how the cars here function, they pile up sooo much stuff and somehow it still manages to work. Even through the dirt roads where pavement seizes to exist. J On se debrouille! Here, they make it work, no matter what; there is always ingenuity—something we have begun to loose in the ‘western’ world.

The ride there with the scenery and singing from everyone was wonderful; there is so much life and it’s always non-stop laughter.

In the botanical gardens I finally saw other people that weren’t Congolese or working were I am. It’s so rare to see foreigners in my neighborhood that I was almost shocked. And even better, some of the foreigners we saw later on in the garden were Chinese. A lot of Chinese have come here for the precious minerals the DRC provides. There is currently an agreement with the Chinese and DRC governments—in exchange for the Chinese fixing all the roads (really its starting from scratch because of the conditions they are in) the Congolese government will allow them access to the minerals found here. A sad arrangement knowing how much more the Chinese are gaining. One only hopes that the maintenance of the roads built will be kept up, because that in the end will be the problem.

I promise more pics, but the uploading here takes forever!! I have to figure out another system.

Good Morning

Mudele, mudele—what I get called on the streets. I finally took a walk around my neighborhood today. The streets are just sand filled with a lot of trash and once you turn the corner there is noooo way of blending in. J But I knew that already…it’s amazing though…everyone stares or at least says Bonjour—the best is when they try and speak English—somehow Good Morning is what everyone knows, even at 6 in the evening.

I promised to keep it short…so I’ll just follow with a pic of the neighborhood. More pics to follow of the new hospital the program I’m working with is building and a baby I made cry… the first baby ever that I freighted.

It begins!

The pics are what I see from my bedroom window.

I promise I will keep the next one’s shorter—but the first one always has to be longer!

Well…let’s just say that the start of my trip did not go as smoothly as planned. J I got this false security in me that at least if I had all my bases covered before the trip then at least I had done all I could to prevent anything from going wrong once I arrived.

While packing up all my last minute things in Paris the night before I left I remembered I had to take my malaria medicine before I left…I reached to the front pocket where I had left it to remind myself and much to my surprise…it was gone.

This is something that I would have expected once I arrived—not in Paris. It must have happened in the wee hours of the morning when I had arrived and was changing my money…oh well. A few moments of a freak out, but then wise words from my uncle and parents put me to sleep.

I got the prescription e-mailed to me and once I checked in (didn’t get charged for overweight!!!!—for all those who know how much I worry about that) I went to the pharmacy and the pharmacist didn’t even need to see my prescription--got the medicine without a fuss!

Two of my battles had been won for the day…but I knew that my greatest battle of all was what awaited me in N’jili airport.

As we descended into Kinshasa I got a beautiful glimpse of the Congo River. I have to be honest…I had almost no fear during the flight. All I had to do was look across the aisle and see this Spanish looking man holding on to the seat with dear life any time there was a tiny bit of turbulence. He had the bases covered when it came to fear, I had nothing else to be frightened of.

Coming out into the heat you could say it hit me—but I kept a smile on my face and walked like I knew exactly where I was going. There were a massive amount of guards—which was expected…then the massive amount of handlers that await trying to get you to hire them so you can make it through passport control and baggage claim without a problem. I looked for no one and went straight into the line—“Expatriates.” With the amount of other non-Congolese that were there, I felt ok. I made it through the passport check with only a “Ca va?”—“Oui, merci. Et vous?”—“Ca va…” As I passed the doors to the baggage claim I was ready for anything…especially since I didn’t know who was picking me up…forgot that part. J But I went in and just kept walking like I knew where I was, then a sign with my name and a friendly face! Joelle was so happy to see me!! Three kisses in Kinshasa—not 2, not 1, but 3!

We got the luggage with a bit of pushing, shoving and marking our place—everything in perfect order and on we went to venture into more baggage handlers. Then Christian was waiting for us outside to drive us through the mayhem of Kinshasa—to my beautiful residence. More on that another time. J