I finally finished the process for getting my missionary visa to live and work in the country. The immigration officer was trying to convince me that it would be best for me to marry a Congolese man because that is the easiest and best visa I can get. Then he said “and your children could grow up to be Barak Obama!” Barak Obama is seriously just about every African’s hero I’ve met. Most don’t know anything about him except his father was an African and he will soon be the president of the USA. They told me I should have my passport back within a month but my Congolese friends reminded me that this is Congo and I should be prepared for 3 to 6 months before I see my passport again. We’ll see
I still have no electricity. There hasn’t been any since before I left Congo in September. Everyday they say tomorrow it’ll be fixed, but who knows when it’ll ever get fixed. Most days no one is even bothering to work on it. Thankfully the opposite has occurred with the water. I think we now have water almost all day long! It is so wonderful to just be able to get water whenever I need it and not to have to wait in line.
My big problem has been that my roof leaks pretty badly in every room. The worst spot is on top of and all around my bed. They waited a week and then did a few things to fix it so now it only leaks instead of pours. Who knows when they will manage to fix it all the way but I am thankful for what I got.
It rains so much in Congo. I wish I could measure how many inches we are getting but it must be significantly more than Zambia. Farmers here have never experienced a drought which happens every couple years in Zambia. It makes life so much more difficult. Like starting a fire in the morning, drying clothes, walking around with all the mud. I guess I’ll get used to it. It’s weird because when I left Zambia the rains hadn’t started but they are in full force here. The saddest part is a missed eating flying ants.
The pastor got right to work giving me a schedule. I have been going all over town. I am constantly learning new places. First I went to Shituru and the best part was the drunkard who I had been sent to talk to was there for the very first time and sober! It was so encouraging. We had visited with some families in the community before and a new family came. After the service the guy asked to speak with us privately. He confessed to be involved in all kinds of sins from drunkardness to constantly buying prostitutes. He had felt convicted and compelled to change his life. Then he called in his wife and explained to her his decisions. She was blown away. Another woman was demon possessed and we did some deliverance ministry. Apparently there is a big thing here called The husband of the night where through a traditional ritual women are married to demons who are supposed to make them good wives to their real husband but actually torment them in dreams at night. I don’t have all the details yet but it seems very common. Needless to say the service was powerful. I absolutely love going around encouraging people. Its always good times with the children either trying to scratch off my white skin or screaming bloody murder when they see me, women trying to teach me to cook Congolese food, and people who just need a touch from God receiving it. It’s about being a community ready to help people out.
Tomorrow I am going to Kolowezi another mining town about 70 miles from here for a woman’s conference. There will not be a translator so it’ll be interesting trying to understand everything. I do pretty well with one on one because I can ask them to clarify and vice versa but when it is someone giving a speech I struggle. I guess it is times like this that I really learn because I have no choice. I should be getting back on Saturday. On Tuesday I start teaching English again. Things are all coming together nicely and I am excited about all that God will do. Thank you for your prayers.
25 November 2008
12 November 2008
The Adventure Continues
Well the Congo adventure continues and it started off with a bang consisting of unforeseen problems. It started off with the typical problems the taxi driver failed to show up on time and his phone had gone dead and then the bus had accidentally booked too many people on the early bus but didn’t realize it when I called ahead to confirm there were no problems. So after securing another taxi I sat for 3 hours under the hot African sun getting sun burnt, waiting and hoping the next bus would have space. I switched in and out from reading my book and using the Tonga language with the other people also waiting for the bus because I knew it would be a long time before I had the chance to use it again.
Things weren’t too bad in Lusaka and I made it back to the bus stop before the 6AM departure time. Unfortunately in typical African fashion we left 3 hours late. All went fine until we reached Kapiri Mposhi. The conductors decided to take on more passengers than they had seats which is technically illegal in Zambia. People began arguing and complaining and yelling matches broke out all over the bus. They started yelling “rubbish bus” “never use Chembe” (Chembe was the name of the bus company). I couldn’t agree more, you couldn’t pay me to ever use Chembe again. So from then on out all of the passengers were angry and the ride was cramped and uncomfortable. In Ndola one man who boarded and had to stand up was very vocal about his dislike for white people and was angry I was riding the same bus as him. He eventually got embarrassed when none of the other passengers shared his views and retreated to another area of the bus where people hadn’t heard his racist remarks and kept quiet. Very few Zambians have any problems with race or foreigners so his attitude was a bit shocking it was also shocking for the other Zambians who heard him. In fact not long before he boarded the bus the people who had just exited the bus had been joking around with me for being a Tonga. Its funny how one person sees me as a true Zambian and the next judges me by my skin color to be a foreigner.
There were constant delays for no particular reason and I didn’t reach Chingola until 5:30PM. It is a 7 hour trip for a usual bus so there was no way I could have calculated such a crazy delay. I had even ridden with Chembe before and had gotten there hours earlier. I wasn’t sure of the exact time the Congolese border crossing closed so I asked some people and they said it was 7:30. All border posts in Zambia close between 6 and 8. I knew it was a gamble to take the taxi to the border because if they closed at 6 I wouldn’t make it, but I felt like it was a gamble worth making because I thought people from the church had traveled to Kasumbalesa to meet me and it would greatly inconvenience them if I came a day late (little did I know they hadn’t sent anyone). We picked up an immigration officer half way to the border who assured me the border doesn’t close until 6:30 which was great.
So I quickly exit Zambia and still had 10 minutes to leave Congo. The only problem was once I got to the Congo side the guards told me they were all closed. Apparently the Congo side closes at 6 which really doesn’t make sense but then few things do in Congo. So I used my sad eyes and extremely respectful Swahili to flatter the guards and plead for them to help me just this once. After all they were all still there and it wouldn’t be that hard to stamp my passport. Unfortunately they absolutely refused. By then it was probably too late to leave Zambia and find a place to stay there. Once I explained to them my situation and that I was a missionary all of them jumped to my attention and began saying they would help me. It was a forced wake up call for my French and Swahili as I had no interpreter and hadn’t used either in over a month. I answered the officers in Tonga a few times and once I saw the confused looks in their eyes recognized my mistake and searched my head for the Swahili equivalent.
Finally they explained to me their plan. They would allow me to stay in a hotel in Kasumbalesa and send an armed security man with me because there are so many crooks in the area. They said they knew the perfect place for me to be safe. I inquired about my luggage if I would need to bring it back the next day. The said “you are a soeur (a sister like a nun) so we trust you and want to help you. We are very sorry you are having this problem today and so tomorrow you can stay at your hotel room and we will send the immigration officer to stamp your passport. There is no problem and we are very happy you are here.” I was shocked at there kindness because many times it has been quite the opposite experience for me.
Congo is a catholic nation so when they see a single woman missionary they assume you are a catholic sister and so I am frequently called Soeur a nickname I encourage because it prevents random men from proposing to me which still happens far too often. Their kindness was wonderful and they arranged for a cab and took me to a nice little place with armed guards and a walled fence. After helping me negotiate for a good price they left me. In the morning they came by to get my passport and some money of course for their help. In an hour they were back with my passport stamped and a taxi ready to take me to Lubumbashi. I arrived at the pastor’s house in Lubumbashi were I usually stay without any further problems. I have never been more convinced that God goes before me to prepare the way.
Then of course once I got here they told me to wait until tomorrow to go to immigration for my 2 year visa and then today again told me to wait until tomorrow. I am back to understanding about 50% of what is going on. They said something about an administrator being out or too busy. Hopefully everything gets worked out, please pray.
It has been nice being back in Congo. The inability to communicate is once again my biggest frustration. I have been most enjoying the time with the girls around my age from our churches in Lubumbashi. They all want to learn English and are very patient with me and we can communicate every well. We are always making each other laugh and it helps me learn a lot more about Congolese people. Last night I introduced them to some simple computer games and they absolutely loved them. It makes me wish they lived in Likasi. My favorite of the group is a girl named Sabine who got married last week and no longer lives in this area. I hope I will get to see her before I leave Lubumbashi.
Things weren’t too bad in Lusaka and I made it back to the bus stop before the 6AM departure time. Unfortunately in typical African fashion we left 3 hours late. All went fine until we reached Kapiri Mposhi. The conductors decided to take on more passengers than they had seats which is technically illegal in Zambia. People began arguing and complaining and yelling matches broke out all over the bus. They started yelling “rubbish bus” “never use Chembe” (Chembe was the name of the bus company). I couldn’t agree more, you couldn’t pay me to ever use Chembe again. So from then on out all of the passengers were angry and the ride was cramped and uncomfortable. In Ndola one man who boarded and had to stand up was very vocal about his dislike for white people and was angry I was riding the same bus as him. He eventually got embarrassed when none of the other passengers shared his views and retreated to another area of the bus where people hadn’t heard his racist remarks and kept quiet. Very few Zambians have any problems with race or foreigners so his attitude was a bit shocking it was also shocking for the other Zambians who heard him. In fact not long before he boarded the bus the people who had just exited the bus had been joking around with me for being a Tonga. Its funny how one person sees me as a true Zambian and the next judges me by my skin color to be a foreigner.
There were constant delays for no particular reason and I didn’t reach Chingola until 5:30PM. It is a 7 hour trip for a usual bus so there was no way I could have calculated such a crazy delay. I had even ridden with Chembe before and had gotten there hours earlier. I wasn’t sure of the exact time the Congolese border crossing closed so I asked some people and they said it was 7:30. All border posts in Zambia close between 6 and 8. I knew it was a gamble to take the taxi to the border because if they closed at 6 I wouldn’t make it, but I felt like it was a gamble worth making because I thought people from the church had traveled to Kasumbalesa to meet me and it would greatly inconvenience them if I came a day late (little did I know they hadn’t sent anyone). We picked up an immigration officer half way to the border who assured me the border doesn’t close until 6:30 which was great.
So I quickly exit Zambia and still had 10 minutes to leave Congo. The only problem was once I got to the Congo side the guards told me they were all closed. Apparently the Congo side closes at 6 which really doesn’t make sense but then few things do in Congo. So I used my sad eyes and extremely respectful Swahili to flatter the guards and plead for them to help me just this once. After all they were all still there and it wouldn’t be that hard to stamp my passport. Unfortunately they absolutely refused. By then it was probably too late to leave Zambia and find a place to stay there. Once I explained to them my situation and that I was a missionary all of them jumped to my attention and began saying they would help me. It was a forced wake up call for my French and Swahili as I had no interpreter and hadn’t used either in over a month. I answered the officers in Tonga a few times and once I saw the confused looks in their eyes recognized my mistake and searched my head for the Swahili equivalent.
Finally they explained to me their plan. They would allow me to stay in a hotel in Kasumbalesa and send an armed security man with me because there are so many crooks in the area. They said they knew the perfect place for me to be safe. I inquired about my luggage if I would need to bring it back the next day. The said “you are a soeur (a sister like a nun) so we trust you and want to help you. We are very sorry you are having this problem today and so tomorrow you can stay at your hotel room and we will send the immigration officer to stamp your passport. There is no problem and we are very happy you are here.” I was shocked at there kindness because many times it has been quite the opposite experience for me.
Congo is a catholic nation so when they see a single woman missionary they assume you are a catholic sister and so I am frequently called Soeur a nickname I encourage because it prevents random men from proposing to me which still happens far too often. Their kindness was wonderful and they arranged for a cab and took me to a nice little place with armed guards and a walled fence. After helping me negotiate for a good price they left me. In the morning they came by to get my passport and some money of course for their help. In an hour they were back with my passport stamped and a taxi ready to take me to Lubumbashi. I arrived at the pastor’s house in Lubumbashi were I usually stay without any further problems. I have never been more convinced that God goes before me to prepare the way.
Then of course once I got here they told me to wait until tomorrow to go to immigration for my 2 year visa and then today again told me to wait until tomorrow. I am back to understanding about 50% of what is going on. They said something about an administrator being out or too busy. Hopefully everything gets worked out, please pray.
It has been nice being back in Congo. The inability to communicate is once again my biggest frustration. I have been most enjoying the time with the girls around my age from our churches in Lubumbashi. They all want to learn English and are very patient with me and we can communicate every well. We are always making each other laugh and it helps me learn a lot more about Congolese people. Last night I introduced them to some simple computer games and they absolutely loved them. It makes me wish they lived in Likasi. My favorite of the group is a girl named Sabine who got married last week and no longer lives in this area. I hope I will get to see her before I leave Lubumbashi.
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