Seed Fair

The Sand At Tanganyika

I waded out into the sideways current, watching my feet move slowly over the sand below. Pebbles and a few bigger rocks populated the small valley that I descended, and they were rough and pricked into my feet. Small, choppy waves moved up past my waist. I came quickly up onto a high landing, a sandbar, and stood still for a moment. Then I sat down and found a spot to stare at out on the horizon, a fishing canoe. The lake lapped up close to my shoulders and every new patch of skin it chilled tilted the line of the lake against the sky just a bit. My legs tucked up underneath me a little out to the side and I relaxed, drifting out to sea.

When I'm driving in a car, watching all the people go by and catching their stares for a second, I forget that I barely speak their language. The little bit of French I know comes more naturally to me now, and sometimes I can react in French rather than translate a reaction into French.

I've thought a lot about things I want to do, while I've been in Congo. Writing, fishing, coal-mining, playing music, wood-working, and traveling all seem interesting to me. None of these I'd want to do forever, and some for less time than others (coal-mining). Kalemie is really nice and simple. As long as work isn't a drag, I think I will really like it here.

Taking pictures in the Congo seems to be generally difficult. I've been dissuaded from showing my camera in public more than once. Apparently, people have been arrested for taking pictures of the sunset, and stuff. So, I don't know. This blog needs some more pictures though, huh? Getting pictures when I'm out at our field sites should be simpler, I think.

I was talking with Jean this morning about myself. He asked. I told him what I aspired to do with my life in the future, which was rather ambiguous, and we talked about some options for my work, here. The two things we discussed were data-entry and communications stuff (writing newsletters, updating our country blog, etc.). Guess which one I'm going to prefer.

(Written 10/19/08)

*Monday, 10AM. I'm going to a seed fair tomorrow and will bring my camera along.

Kalemie

400 miles south of Bukavu, I jumped out of a little propeller plane at Kalemie airport. Vincent and I stretched our legs in the sun that shone bright in the evening over the endless Lake Tanganyika. All that pushing and shoving, frustration and dejection, hoping and doing, and there I was, rubbing my tired eyes on the threshold of my new home. Sometimes you get to be somewhere, and you can't remember how you got there or what made you so sure about leaving.

Keith and I are sharing a room and silence, except for the sound of “Hear Me Out” by Frou Frou. It's pleasantly bare, the concrete floor letting chair legs and the soles of shoes prop, visibly cockeyed, from equilibrium, whereas a fluffy carpet might disguise the shadow beneath a deck shoe or the small, dark space between a chair leg and the floor. I like to look over at the stack of books on my new desk, balanced precariously against the creme-washed wall.

We live with a South African family, here. Dudley and his wife, Grace, their daughter Dawn and son David. Also Jean, the provincial director, lives here. The power had just returned after a week of darkness when I arrived, this evening. With it came a weak but encouraging trickle of water. We dined on luxuriously soft bread rolls and a Lazy-Susan-full of Nutella, strawberry, raspberry, and plum jam, and tuna. I became acquainted with two dogs, a cat, and a parrot.

I am writing this on the night of my arrival in Kalemie, but since we don't have internet access at the house, I won't be posting this until tomorrow morning at the office.

................................................

It's Friday morning and I'm at the office. Just finished with the morning commune, and I have been welcomed warmly by just about everyone here. Right now there isn't a wireless connection here, either.

I was telling Keith on our way to the office that I really liked the environment here. Things seem simpler and less obtrusive in Kalemie than they did in Bukavu. The dirt is less red from all the sand that's mixed with it, and the lake isn't broken up by peninsulas and stopped short before the horizon like it was in Bukavu. It pushes far out like an ocean, and when I look across I think of it as saltwater. We don't weave ten minutes through traffic mayhem in a brutal-white Land Cruiser to go to the office. We just walk five minutes through the sand and a small grove of trees and across a solitary pair of train tracks.

When I woke this morning, a cup was drifting noiselessly on top the water in a bucket in the shower-room. I liked washing with a cup. When rinsing shampoo out of your hair with a cup, you don't need to close your eyes. The steely shower-head's relentless spray would scatter foam into your eyes and all over. But the cup is much more precise and gentle.

I Watch "Lost" A Lot

Bonjour à le monde! It's been slow-going here in Bukavu. Actually kind of tortuous, with transportation and accomodations for Kalemie playing hide-and-go-seek with me. It's been a little depressing, up until recently. On Monday, after several go-aheads and subsequent "actually, no" 's, I decided to bull-rush the gate to Kalemie and stay in a hotel until a room is open at the house, there. Of course, after this triumphant declaration, I found out that the plane leaving Tuesday... wouldn't be leaving Tuesday.

A small group of people who are travelling about FH sites, shooting a series of documentaries, was staying at the house with me, here in Bukavu. We were all planning on leaving together for Kalemie on Tuesday and were quite excited for the immenent atmosphere of fun and community and exploration and the reunion with Keith... and all that good stuff. But sadly, due to the transport-delay, the team had to pack up and head back to Kigali if they were to stay on schedule. While they were at the house, though, Lindsay, Sheryl, and Helmut (I'm not at all confident about those spellings. I based Sheryl's name off of Sheryl Crow.) were wonderful company! Really great people that I'm very pleased to have gotten to know a bit.

Thursday. A plane is supposed to be going to Kalemie on Thursday. That is my chance-- my getaway van, my Black Beauty (?). Most of my work there will be centered around communications (newsletter, blog, website, photography, etc.). I think I have mentioned this before, but I think it's worth reiterating: I really haven't had a lot to do in Bukavu. At the office, I spend maybe 25 percent of my time working and the rest learning French and listening to music and eating lunch and doing nothing. Needless to say, going into the office every morning has begun to feel a little pointless. And it's weird, sitting there doing nothing, while everyone else... isn't. So Kalemie, a field site with plenty of room for help which holds in store for me a job that I would actually enjoy doing and an up-close look at the impact FH is making, is looking like an oasis smack-in-the-middle of the Sahara, my friends. This is rather ironic, since Kalemie is generally looked at as less desirable among more civilized, populated, and acommodated locations. Kalemie has one thing for me that the others don't, though: something to do. I'm very anxious and excited to go. The trip has been postponed several times. Originally, I was leaving 3 weeks ago.

So I have been isolated for a while in this house. Only for the past two days have I been literally alone, here. But the natural estrangedness to a family of four mixed with a little apathy, self-pity, and guilt have set me apart from other people. It has been both good and bad. But I am ready to emerge from it. I haven't felt very motivated to write in this blog, either. It didn't seem as though there was anything to write about-- and if there was it was surely depressing. So I'm sorry if anyone felt neglected.

Earlier, when I talked about "Thusday" i might as well've said "Tomorrow". Because Tomorrow, I am leaving! I hope.

Another album I've been listening to: "Another Day On Earth" by Brian Eno.

Thanks for reading.

But I Was At The Stern, Asleep On A Pillow

This is a great album. I've been listening to it a lot lately. "Songs For Beginners" by Graham Nash.
So I've kind of been struggling a bit, in-limbo. Just kind of feel like a slug, sitting at my desk in my room, watching movie after movie every night. I hate waiting for my life change-- that's what it feels like. At least, I am waiting for my circumstance to change, for my time to go to Kalemie. There may be a window of opportunity opening up here in about a week for me to go... although, I'm really just thinking aloud. Many things need to be confirmed for that to happen. Man, I love this album (mentioned above).

Don't think that I'm living in misery, shut off from light and human contact. I've been working more consistently at the office (haven't played freecell for a few weeks) and continuing to improve on my French. Also, I have a couple of special relationships with people here that are really a blessing to me.
I've been practicing an after-lunch-nap for the last week. On Friday, while I was asleep on the floor of someone's office, there was a little earthquake here. It kind of jostled me awake, but I promptly and fluidly resumed my snooze.
I walked home early that day, and was (sort of) pick-pocketed on my way. There was a middle-aged man walking close behind me for a while in a quieter section of town. He kicked my shoe once, probably to distract me, and I didn't really presume anything from it. Then I felt a tug on my backpack (the guy must have been a little out of practice) and turned around in time to see his hand retreating from behind me. So I just stood there, staring at him, for a little bit, and then walked away. Sure enough, he had been in the back pocket of my bag, but hadn't found anything worth pilfering. All I had in that pocket was the book One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest and an unidentified piece of folded paper.
Later on that afternoon, Kostas and I went swimming in the lake. We were looking up at the flurry of rust-colored hawks above us and talking while we trod water. He asked if I had felt the earthquake earlier, and it was really weird because I thought that I'd drempt the earthquake and all that.
I hope things are good for you. I really miss my family. That includes Grandma and Grandpa and Stremlers. Love you!