Underside of the tortoise, frozen in the nitrogen night, blinking white as it flips like a coin in the air. Spear through sky, spear through the break in the black that trails the turtle's spiral. Catching up with the slow gloom that dies in his eyes, touching his belly like a flame licking frost. Sea creatures exploding over the desert, watery fireworks splash over us in our sleep.

Hey, that was an attempt to beat blogger's block. So. It's been a little while...

Things have been slow here. I'm steadily learning more and more in Logistics, though, and have been able to do some actual work. For instance, yesterday I spent several hours painting numbers on some new motorcycles that will be sent to a site in Shabunda. Since it has been established that I will be going to work in Kalemie, my time here has naturally begun to feel temporary-- the prelude to my real Congo experience. With that perspective, it's been frustrating not knowing exactly when I will be departing. There are issues with housing availability there (Currently, there is no room for me).  So, I am looking at possibly another month before I leave. Feeling in-transit is a little unnerving, along with the advisement that I spend this time learning. When told simply "to learn", I don't know how to react. How do I study French for a month? How much more can I know about the slew of forms used to send/receive/purchase goods? I want to have a job. To have work to do when I come into the office up until I leave. Living with this awkward uncertainty is a learning experience, in-and-of itself.  

I can't let this frustration become depression and stop me from learning all that I need for Kalemie. Potentially, I am resolving some serious issues that I haven't had to deal with before.

Another struggle has been adjusting to my unrequested limelight as a white person in Congo. When walking down the street in Bukavu, I seriously feel like half the city is staring at me. I hear "Mzungu" and I hear "You don't belong here!" All-too aware of the harsh poverty that these people are suffering in, and having it literally staring at me wherever I go, I have felt condemned. My body is a display case, my heart beating selfishness, arrogance for all to see. It is true that the faces looking at me are simply curious, not judgmental. I condemn myself: What will you do about their suffering? How can you take seconds and thirds, while people starve just outside your door? Why should you be rich and they be poor? Questions that I don't dare answer. How can I face such a responsibility as caring for another person?

It seemed, before I left America, many people thought of my upcoming work as mission work. And me as a missionary. However, I have known all along that in my heart I don't have the capacity to give of myself. This is why I came, this is my "mission": to go to the edge of self-sufficiency and comfort and to see what the opposite looks like and how I will respond. Here, I will either throw up my hands and turn my back or I will step off that edge. Imagining that descent is sickening and tiring. I know that I will be faced with many questions that won't ever go away. 

Pictures galore! One from the daily FH staff devotional (I look particularly enthused) and one from my barely-belated birthday, celebrated on Friday's game night. The rest chronicle the ups and, more frequently, downs of Keith's and my attempt at braving Lake Kivu in a rickety ol' racing kayak.

Get ready to scroll!

What I'm up to recently (mostly during the evenings): Reading One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest and Leopold's Ghost, listening to Elliott Smith's album "Figure 8", and playing the classic computer game "Oregon Trail". We've been watching quite a few movies here, too, ranging from Last of the Mohicans to Starsky and Hutch. The Kotopolous family is wonderful, and I've really enjoyed spending some time with the kids, Daniel and Johnathan.

**Thanks, Kostas for the photos!

***And thank you for reading! By the way, if you have any questions or you'd just like to talk, e-mail me at nathandbrien@gmail.com. I love hearing from you!

Tanks, Trucks, Tortilla Tales

Wednesday: 

Sitting at a table playing hearts and majhong for the better part of my time was getting a little monotonous. It's been a slow start at the office, with a lot of my responsibility allocated in simply studying French. Tackling a language by engaging with native speakers is a nerve-racking venture, at first. That was the pressure point I was teetering on, Wednesday, knowing that I could spend another day reading a mixture of Congolese history and FHI grant proposals and policies (speckled with countless retreats to the freecell/hearts/minesweeper/majhong window); or I could attempt an offensive on the language barrier. Luckily, I have friends who nudged me towards the second.

Issued with a logistician's blue-smock garb, I fell headlong into the  world of warehouse-keeping. Anisette, a purely French and Swahili speaker, was my mentor. He gave me a couple of drone-jobs like counting cassava and labeling some records, both of which felt so good to be doing-- work, in whatever form, was welcome. 

This day was not, however, to be defined by small, mindless tasks. At noonish, we set out in a big truck ( like a semi-semi) for a fueling station nearby. I met a few guys who apparently work with the truck and often contract with FH, and conversed quite a bit with them in the back of truck while we were fueling. One of them in particular, Abu, became a friend and was a huge help with my language "studies" during that day and the next. 

Seven or eight metallic barrels crowded us into the corners of the truck's bed. The petrol gun snaked its way over our trailer walls and, braced by Anisette's hand, gurgled frothy "essence" into each hollow tank. I was so happy to be there, screwing caps on gas tanks and explaining to Abu that my birthday was tomorrow (J'ai dix-neuf ans. Demains est mon aniverser.). Faces stared up at me from every direction, grinning at the white boy in the blue smock in the back of a truck.

That day was ripe with new experiences and Thursday would burst with many more.

Thursday:

I spared no time this morning turning on my laptop and checking my e-mail. After the morning devotional, I went straight to Logistique and found Feston, who smiled and brought me to Anisette. My smock was waiting for me, its blue wrinkles and deep pockets beckoning me to another adventure... I was to escort the the cassava convoy to the airport, today! After counting out 60 bulging backs of manuk sticks and cashing them into the Big Truck, we rolled out from behind the FH sliding gate and into the frenzying streets of Bukavu. I don't know if I've mentioned anything about the "roads" here. In short, they remind one of a black diamond skii runs.

After about 2 hours of mogul-navigating (we were stopped by the police for 20-30 min), we arrived at Kavumu Airport. Side note: Law enforcement here is charistically corrupt, so most encounters with the police are incentivized  by the possibility of bribe. Upon trying to pass through security to enter the airfields, we learned that there was a fee to pay for each additional person admitted... So I stayed on the outskirts of the facility. For 3 hrs I made conversation in a thatched cantina with various jolly Congolese and explored the airport's dusty promenade with Abu. For a while-- after the truck had reemerged, emptied of its first load-- we sat up in the stout cabin to escape the heat for a while.

Towards the end of my stay at Kavumu, I helped load the truck full of cassava that was stacked up on the ground, waiting to be fed through the gates. Heavy lifting. A sparse line of skinny men and boys turned like a conveyer belt, hoisting the clumsy sacs onto their heads and up into the hands of those in the truck. When I crept to the pile and loaded a sac over my shoulder, shuddering under its painful weight, I had obviously upset the previously-ordinary spectacle. Laughter broke out, and several kids ran instantly to me, soliciting their labor for payment. Declining adimantly, I drudged on to-and-from the truck, laughing with the people there over my awkward attempt to help. It just feels so good to work with people here. When I am a part of their system, performing identical motions, I am their toiling brother. Equal, escaping the pointing fingers and cries of "Mzungu!". 

....

Thank you for the birthday e-mails!! Yesterday, Thursday, my birthday, was a wonderful day. I was sung to twice (once in English and once in French), I went on a great adventure, and Keith took Lewis and I out for dinner at L'Orchid, followed by Cuban cigars with Kostas. Tonight we are having birthday cake! THANK YOU, EVERYONE!

For dessert, we had ice cream rapped in crepes that they set on fire!

Here are some some pictures Kostas took of me at a monestary nearby:

I am learning how to make tortillas, this morning! Also, I should tell you that I have decided to go to Kalemie, 400 mi. South of Bukavu. I will be leaving at the end of the month and will be spending the rest of my time in the DRC there. Kalemie is located in the Katanga district/province and is a site for many of our new projects. While Bukavu is a big city, Kalemie is more like a small town/village and is in close proximity to FH field sites. 

Thanks for reading!

I wasn't able to get a hold of those photos, today. Tomorrow... I should have them up. Posts look better with pictures. So here's one of me blowing out a candle.

Also, I was wondering if anyone would be interested in receiving notices by e-mail whenever the blog is updated? If you'd like that, please let me know at this address: nathandbrien@gmail.com. There may only be 10 spots available. I think that should suffice in meeting the monstrous demand...

Alternatively, you could subscribe to my feed to receive the content, automatically. I'm not really certain how all of that works, but it's probably not too difficult to figure out.

If anyone from Target is reading, Hello! Hopefully you guys are continuing to clock me in every day, like I asked (part of my severance package).

Goodnight, friends and family and maybe someone I've never met before who eerily searched the phrase "and maybe someone I've never met before who eerily searched the phrase"! Love you!

Great, Unstoppable Things

Hi everyone!

On Wednesday of last week, we visited a site near Mwenga (The name is too foreign to survive in my memory; and for that matter, I don't know how to spell "Mwenga"). The drive was about 3 hours, and toured us through some of the most beautiful landscape I've ever seen. Upon our arrival, we (There were six of us.) trickled between a cluster of small huts onto a narrow path, cutting through the residence and dispersing into the cassava fields. We went to witness the first cutting of the cassava, an essential part of Congolese diet that, after reaching sapling-like stature, can be cut down, chopped into small pieces, and planted again. FH has had a program there to kick start a system of cassava-farming as a sustainable source of livelihood. After a short distance and several venturing "Jambo's" and giggling "Jambo sana's" (Swahili greetings-- I'm not sure of the English translation), we stood in the midst of a unanimous, tongue-wharbling (kind of whoop or holler combined with the circling of one's tongue around the mouth) welcome. Children's big white eyes fixed on our white faces in wonder, and their mouths cracked into stupefied grins at the sight of the ivory tower that is Keith, who stands (or maybe sways) at 6'7". Behind them, fields of cassava cradled scores of black arms swinging machetes. I was given the chance to swing with them for an hour or so, wacking away at the cassava feet, and dismembering them into meter-sized sticks, as per the length of bamboo swingy clumsily from my measuring hand. Maybe a minute had gone bye before I was sweating through my shirt beneath the yellow sun.

After acceding my blade to far worthier fingers, I joined the others back at the start of the path where a bunch of kids were inching their way towards the "Mzungus!". Several bouts of "Look at my digital camera" and thumb-wars ensued. None of which I was avidly involved in, due to discomfort of the bowels or my "rite of passage in Congo". However, after surveying and nearly obliging to the available "facilities", I decided to hold it. Needless to say, the jostling ride home was a test of will-power. The addition of a broken down, fuming motorcycle pressed up against my knees was a bonus. It sounds bad, I know (due to some lavish word choice), but it was really a great adventure.

On our way back, it finally rained! The day before had teased us with a drop or two, but nothing like this. A low, black ceiling poured over us for most of our re-entry into Bukavu.

Thursday, we went to a village in Bohozie (spelling?) to visit a feeding center for malnourished children. I tried to be taken into silliness and laughter by the smiling baby-faces that surmounted bloated, starving stomachs. Most of the time, it's easy and fun to connect with kids, even if they speak a language you've never heard of before. Now, I was feeling sick with poverty. Every new spot my eyes would flee to held some evidence of it—this great hunger, suffering, darkness. I am crumpled into a corner, helpless against it.

I'm sorry I don't have many pictures of the things I've described. I've been holding out on writing this entry so that I might include more. Tomorrow, I'll post pictures of the cassava fields and all that. These pictures were taken at the feeding center.

Thank you for your comments on my entries, thus far. I truly appreciate anything you have to say (advice, questions, observations, whatever). And thank you for checking back on this blog and reading!

Sorry For the Hiatus

Countless new things have bombarded my brain this past week. I haven't been brave enough thus far to sit down and hash any of them out, here. I wish I had more and better pictures to show you, but right now I only have a handful of scraps. At least you will be able to see a bit of the scenery I am experiencing.

Anyway. Some of the things I've done so far… I've been swimming several times in Lake Kivu. On Sunday, Kostas and Keith and I swam from the nearby hotel, "L'Orchid" to Kostas's house, where I am staying. Probably the longest swim I've ever made, at over 1 mile. I've also been introduced to the staff of Food for the Hungry Congo (FH) and have received all of my orientation at the office. These last two mornings, Keith and I have gone in and done some actual work. "What is that you are doing?" you might ask. Well… My involvement with FH will take the form of tasks in communications and in logistics. Most of my time, at least for a while, will be spent studying French. I realized immediately that the little bit of French I know will be sufficient for such phrases as "Hello." and "Nice bicycle." My understanding of the language has already improved, though, due to this sudden immersion. I'm very excited to become more proficient in conversing with the people here and, thus, deepening my relationships. The people here…

Wonderful people. There is a very warm community of ex-patriots that I have been introduced to. I, myself, am living with the FH Congo Director and his family. They, Kostas and Katie Kotopoulos, have two beautiful kids, one 4 (I think) and the other 1 year-old. The Congolese people have been very friendly and patient with my studdering French, and I have made many friends.

I devoted a very short paragraph earlier to things that I've done so far. Really, there has been much more, and you will hear more details about my new life in the months to come. Thank you for reading and thank you for your support. I love to think about you, my friends and family, and about home. Adjusting to this new environment is proving difficult, but with your love and affirmation I am able to cope and to open my eyes.

It is thundering, right now! The rainy season has been making excuses and neglecting Congo up until now. Repairs on some roads in Bukavu have launched perpetual dust storms to be braved in blind land cruisers or from behind blackened handkerchiefs. Everyone has been waiting for the rain. To turn the dust to mud. To fill our empty hours with that serene sound. Pitter-patter. I love that sound!

From The Bukavu Office

I arrived here in Bukavu yesterday afternoon after taking a small prop plane to the Rwandan border and meeting up with an FHI worker there. Keith, a 24-year-old guy going to work in Kalemie, met me at the Kigali airport in Rwanda. Yesterday, we were introduced to the town and FHI staff and to our current residence. The deluge of new sights, languages, customs, etc. has been overwhelming. I was extremely tired after my virtually sleepless two-day journey (I did catch a two-hour snooze in Amsterdam) and had to fight delirium until 7:00 last night, when I crashed into a deep sleep. Keith and I left this morning for orientations at the office, and that is what we're waiting for, now...

I will have much to describe and many observations to divulge to you, but for now I am at a loss for words. I have to go, now.

LOVE

View From Gate F4 (AMS to Nairobi)

That's my ride...

Chasing some tail.

Schiphol

Hi everyone! I have safely arrived in Amsterdam and now have 7ish hours to kill. I'm gonna brush my teeth or something. Maybe sleep somewhere. Next stop: Nairobi!!

Love,


PS. If anyone wants to skype, I'm "ndbrien".

I'm Off!

I just wanted to point out again that this trip wouldn't be possible without all of your support. The vision is being realized today when I leave for Congo, THANKS TO YOU!

I'll try to update you from Amsterdam...

So-long's Eve

The watch on my wrist tells me that its a quarter to 8. Most of you read the last sentence arbitrarily, using it only to propel you towards the meat of this post. Let me tell you... the watch is a hearty subject, for both of my wrists have been naked for 5 years.


No longer! I don the chronotrinket thrust high in the air-- Excalibur pulled from youth's stone, granting the unsuspecting wielder sudden manhood... and rite to world-conquest. A Timex.

On a gloomier note, I said good bye to my close friend, Liam, tonight. Tomorrow afternoon will take me from home, from family. These last couple days have been choc-full of goodbyes and now, suspense. "All my bags are packed. I'm ready to go..."