ECOLE MATERNELLE, Christmas (Take II)

Noël du Monde

My cousin Sarah, a former teacher, gave me many posters to share with the children in Aru. Among them were a set of images showing children around the world at Christmas time. For the two older classes, I summarized short stories of how Christmas is celebrated in Germany, Hawaii, Mexico, Sweden, Netherlands, Japan, Israel, Russia, England, and the United States. Describing and convincing them that snow actually exists in other parts of the world was difficult. And they definitely didn’t understand the snowman. It’s okay. Their complete silence for almost 20minutes was enough to let me know it was appreciated. I also placed a large map on the chalkboard and we had a great time pointing out all the continents, and trying to find the Congo…

They seem so sweet, I know…

I realize that I keep repeating the number of children—300—but seriously, they’re a lot of work.

1) Crowding them into a hot, small room for almost one-hour of singing/repeating all the songs they’ve memorized (sometimes it sounds more like screaming than singing, but maybe that’s just me).

2) Hours can be spent on trying to get their attention and taking attendance. Projects that involve supervision can take an entire week to complete: One by one by one by one by one…and so on.

3) Bathroom Breaks. As if the teacher hadn’t spent enough time organizing them in the classroom, she has to lead them all outside to the bathroom, patiently waiting and keeping them in line, then head back into the classroom to do it all over again. “Sit down, quiet, no talking, sit…” Often the teacher bursts into song just to get everybody’s attention.

I know how this may seem. You may find yourself asking: “Why don’t the children listen? Isn’t there any discipline?” Let me tell you. There is discipline and the children do listen. At the same time, there are 50 of them and 1 of you. Think About It.

4) If the children are sick, there is no nurse. Oftentimes the teacher will lay an old, thin rug on the concrete floor of the classroom and the child will rest. If they are really exhausted, they will simply fall asleep at their table in the midst of all the noise.

5) Play Time. Imagine the number of toys they have to share—hardly any—it would test even the most patient of us. And when I say toys, I’m referring to a few Legos and recycled bottle caps.

6) Snack Time. Passing out cups filled with water (lids are a luxury we lack) and warm soup or mashed fruit to 300 little kids. These are actually their most behaved moments; letting us know how much they value a meal.

7) The Teachers. To be honest, very few of them have any idea how to teach. Granted those who become teachers are well-educated and top of their class, but when you compare the teacher-training they have access to in Aru to all that we have in the West, there are some very serious discrepancies. Every teacher is genuine and means well, but at the same time, what to do…

In any case, having been a part of this chaos for the past month, I left school the other day questioning the practicality and success of these situations; where six teachers are expected not only to control, but educate 300 students. As I was preoccupied with these thoughts, I crossed paths with a young girl about eight-years-old and was suddenly reminded of the other option: she was carrying atop her head a very large basket filled with bananas, making her way to the market, where she will spend the day selling her family’s modest produce.

Access to education for the extreme poor is nonexistent. If the family has money, the sons will be sent to school first. It would be impractical to send girls, knowing their expectations—to marry and raise a family—don’t earn income.

ECOLE MATERNELLE, Christmas (Take I)

So I mentioned briefly in the previous blog that another responsibility of mine is at the preschool. Please imagine 300 children (ages 3-7) six teachers, one secretary, two cooks, and a Director. Scary, I know. It’s also reality.

After one month, I know the names of the trouble-makers and recognize the faces of those who listen. The teachers are some of the most patient women I have met, and the Director takes on way too much responsibility.

Our days begin at 7:30 with drums, accompanied then by one-hour of singing, all of which I hear during breakfast because the preschool is just around the corner. I arrive at 8:30 and by then almost every child is in their classroom. In each of the six rooms there is one teacher, roughly 50 students and hardly any supplies. For example, each classroom has one pair of scissors and they share four paintbrushes between them. Imagine doing an art project with 50 students that involves cutting or painting. Yes, it takes all morning.

“THE PROJECT”

Despite all the heat that Africa bestows upon us each day, I feel that Christmas is closer than ever because of the rather ambitious project we just completed.

To be honest, it was exhausting and so I will spare you too many details.

We started this project in the middle of November. The supplies included: mud/clay, left over cardboard pieces, old watered-down paint, four paintbrushes, and chunky glue. The older children molded mangers from the mud and the younger children, stars. We glued cardboard strips to the sides of the mangers so that they could be carried. We covered the mud with paint and Sr. Jeanette (the Director) also gave me little angels to glue onto each of the stars and little plastic baby Jesus’ for the mangers. In the end, I assisted every child at several stages with the gift.

The children have also been practicing a poem for months. After Christmas, I really hope to never hear it again. They sang it at least a dozen times per day. The teachers and I made cards for every student with the poem handwritten inside. Did I mention there were 300 students? Honestly, I had to have written the poem close to 100 times myself. Though for a few, I recruited my community members for help, and they were happy to oblige.

FINALE

The Christmas project concluded in 2 scheduled events. First, there was a promenade to the Education Minister, a visit to the Canossian convents, and of course a quick hello to Sr. Alba in the Cyber Café. Rather than describe the experience of taking 300 children for a walk through town, I have attached video: (coming soon, having technical difficulties)

Second was the presentation of the manger and star gifts to their parents. On Wednesday, the parents came to receive their children at 11am. The previous two hours were spent passing out packaged biscuits and a lollipop to each of the children and placing their manger/star with the Christmas card & poem in front of them, as they sat somewhat patiently waiting. I loved meeting all the parents and seeing the affection they shared with their children. Many gave hugs and kisses, which prompted laughing from the other children. It was a wonderful day!

AK-47s & Pagnes

On Wednesday morning, as I crossed the road to Cyber Café, I was surprised to see approximately 200 Congolese military soldiers marching along. They were chanting in French, or maybe it was Lingala? I wasn’t actually paying attention, having been distracted by all the AK-47s that were swung across their backs.

Fully clad in army green uniforms, these men represent a country that has seen the greatest number of deaths since WWII. More than five million Congolese have died since independence from Belgium in 1960. At the time, Belgian authorities left precious little for the Congolese to call their own. In accordance to well-known European colonial behavior, after years of raping the country’s resources, they split. In other words, they left the country ill-equipped—financially, academically, and medically—and provinces and tribes poorly-divided; essentially, on the brink of destruction.

The Era of Congolese Democracy & the Cold War (1960-1990)

Divisions within the Congolese government resulted in the following: nation-wide revolts sparking secessions; the execution of Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba; the intervention of the United Nations; and the rise of Joseph Désiré Mobutu.

Mobutu was a product of the Cold War; favored by Western, capitalist powers and responsible for ruthlessly eliminating leftist revolts in the Congo. He was also admired for giving a sense of nationalism and pride to the Congolese people; changing the traditional European city names of Leopoldville and Stanleyville to Kinshasa and Kisangani, respectively. In an effort to purge any trace of European influence, he also changed the name of the country to Zaire.

However, if the West had been paying attention, they may have noticed the flight of foreigners, acquisition of private property and rising nepotism within the government. But the actions of the Mobutu regime continued to either be ignored or go unnoticed. And central Africa would suffer for it.

Post-Cold War Era

After the Cold War, Zaire was abandoned. One reason for this desertion is attributed to the fact that nobody had the slightest idea how to save the country; a country that at every passing day fell deeper into corruption, division, poverty, and violence.

In 1994, at the time of the Rwandan genocide, Tutsi refugees crossed the border into Zaire. Hutu extremists pursued them, killing native Congolese as they did so. Soon, with the support of Rwanda and Uganda, Laurent Kabila, a commander in the South Kivu province of Congo, marched on the capital city—Kinshasa. By this time, most of Mobutu’s allies had either changed sides or fled the county; there was hardly any resistance in the transition to Kabila.

Regrettably, most of what defined Mobutu’s Zaire, defined Kabila’s République Démocratique du Congo; creating a government comprised of individuals to whom he owed favors; as the rich became richer, the poor become desperate.

Greed & the Death of Millions in the New Millennium

Over the next several years, the Congo declined into a perpetual state of bloodshed. Rwanda and Uganda soon turned against Kabila and violence committed by all sides ensued. Throughout the country, village after village was destroyed, people were either massacred or forced to survive in the jungles without protection or access to food and healthcare; disease were quick to spread and even quicker to kill.

When the United Nations arrived in 1999, the Lusaka Peace Accords created a cease-fire, but it did little to end the violence. Selfishly motivated by economic interests and territorial expansion, though disguised as unified peace-interventionists, the involvement of Rwanda, Uganda, Angola, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Chad, Gabon and France culminated in the assassination of Laurent Kabila in 2001.

Days after the assassination, the Pretoria Agreement was signed; officially giving power to Laurent Kabila’s son—Joseph. Jean-Pierre Bemba, former Congolese warlord, was named Prime Minister. Although the change in leadership ushered in a new era of democracy for the Congo and violence would generally subside, attention would now be turned to the Ituri province, a place where Congo’s bloodiest warfare had yet to be seen.

Ituri and Kivu Provinces

The dispute started between two tribes—Hema and Lendu—over property rights. It escalated into a full-scale war that soon destroyed entire villages. Uganda’s involvement plunged the region into further discord by arming both sides of the conflict, meanwhile extracting resources from the area. Soon it required the presence of the UN to physically separate the warring factions and protect innocent civilians.

Kivu province has also seen its fair share of violence, located south of Ituri. The conflict was between the military forces of the Democratic Republic of the Congo and the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (Hutu extremists), also involved were Tutsi rebel forces led by warlord, Laurent Nkunda. (A lot of factions and fighting, I know.) Nkunda has since been apprehended and stands trial at the International Criminal Court. Here is a clip of an interview with him by Nic Kristof.

http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2010/journalism-and-compassion/soundseen.shtml#video

The Ituri and Kivu provinces have also been a haven for other exiled and disillusioned rebels, in particular, Rwanda’s Interahamwe (Hutu militia forces) and Uganda’s Lord’s Resistance Army. Today, given its history, the Democratic Republic of the Congo continues to host the world’s largest UN force.

My Home

Aru, located in the northeastern part of Ituri, is known for its relatively peaceful existence. The United Nations, World Food Programme and United States Agency for International Development (USAID) are located near the town center and as I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, the construction of buildings, rising school attendance and increasing access to healthcare are all positive signs.

Each day there remains the promise for a better future in the Congo.

As they continued to march, Sr. Alba and I commented on the number of soldiers there were and even a vehicle; no doubt transporting the higher-ups of the battalion. Although I didn’t have my camera with me, there were more troops marching the following Saturday. I snapped a few quick photos.

As you can see, the majority of the picture has captured the lovely tree alongside the soldiers, but I was too nervous about making a scene; so there you have it.

MY FIRST PAGNE (-not sure on the spelling, it's Lingala, so I had to guess)

After my covert photo-shoot, Karen and I walked to the market to buy the weeks supply of fruit and vegetables. Most of what we purchase is green—spinach, eggplant, manioc for pondu and rather than delve into this highly entertaining topic, I will skip to the part where I purchase my first pagne.

Women and young girls are dressed in the most colorful patterns and beautiful styles. Although I had a difficult time deciding which fabric to purchase at the little shop in the market, it wasn’t near as difficult as choosing my pattern. The technical school—Coupe de Cuture—run by the Canossians sew custom-made attire for 4,000 USH ($2).


And yes, I’m taking orders. So please let me know if you wish to have a Congolese pagne!

Keeping It Alive (well, not exactly)

Keeping It Alive; the tradition, not the turkey.

As the two American Representatives in Aru, Karen and I were determined to serve a traditional Thanksgiving meal.

1. Shopping around town for the turkey, which was initially was 60,000 Ugandan Shillings ($25); too expensive, but when you have a few white people inquiring, obviously the price will be higher. (Sr. Graciana returned later to negotiate);

2. As it sat roped up to one of our bushes, we took photos and discussed amongst ourselves who knew how to kill a turkey (nobody had experience);

3. Karen and I went to find help.

4. Raymond, who works for the Canossian Sisters, offered us his services;

5. Back at our house, we passed him one of our big kitchen knives and after he inspected its sharpness, he killed our turkey;

6. Thankfully, he also de-feathered most of it and pulled out all those things inside;


7. We boiled water on the wood-burning stove to wash and rinse it thoroughly;

8. We plucked most of its feathers;

9. I stuffed it;

10. Clara sewed it up;

11. And we set the turkey to roast;

12. THE GRAND FEAST

FLOUR TAX

The generator—our only electric current—runs every morning. It is used specifically to operate the oven at the bakery. Two years ago, a VOICA volunteer—Luca—contributed the bakery to the community and today, volunteers work Monday to Saturday from 7am-1pm and 3-6pm. The business is overseen by a Canossian Sister.

Here’s the frustration: the generator is expensive to run, but the costs are covered by the bakery. However, the border tax recently increased on goods purchased from Uganda, which is where we happen to buy our flour. Long story short: we can’t afford the tax. So what does this mean?

Without flour, we can’t make dough: Bakery is Closed; Without Bread to bake, we can’t afford to run the generator: No Electricity; Without the generator, we can’t charge our computers, cameras, or phones or run our laundry machine: Decrease in Communication & Increase in Labor; And without the generator, the Cyber Café can’t make many copies or scans and has limited computer time: Decrease in Business: Welcome to Africa

For now, the generator is run for a couple hours in the morning; as everybody rushes to charge electronics, wash clothes, and scan/copy documents. In the evenings, we are forced to drain our solar batteries (though we are thankful to have solar power at all); typically we lose electricity by 7pm and are left to cook, eat, visit, and play cards or Twister by candlelight.

Furthermore, without our Pane de Luca (Luca Bread, as the local people call it) we enjoy a coffee only breakfast, sometimes complimented by our own creative flour-substitute bread or oatmeal packets. The people of Aru resort to the packaged, tasteless and often expired rolls that are sold by the small boutiques alongside the road: if they eat anything at all.

The Sisters are trying to cut a deal with border security & are visiting with the Governor, so we’ll see when we get our flour.

12 Years Ago

Cyber Café

Almost twelve years ago I signed-up for my first email account—hotmail. I use the same account today as I did then (in addition to several others). In those days, I received friendship quizzes, jokes and horoscopes, spam mail, and every once in a while an actual message. So pretty much like today. Nevertheless, I check my accounts daily, not to mention the amount of time I spend on G-chat, Facebook, and Skype. Why do I share this story with you?

One of my responsibilities in Aru is to assist Sr. Alba at the Cyber Café. A few days ago, a 24-year old guy came to sign-up for an email account. As he and a friend walked through the door and politely, quietly requested help to create an account, it immediately occurred to me that this was going to be his first email. I was overcome with excitement and in my broken French, which translated into something like: “You important learn sit now please here” showed him to a computer.

It was also obvious to me that he had never before used a computer; I was even more intrigued and excitedly began to teach. He registered through Yahoo, which is what most everybody here uses. As we sat down, I explained what the mouse was and how it transfers onto the screen. We went through the process of answering questions for an account, with me giving more than enough information on everything about email and the internet. We reached the submit button on the screen, he clicked and we lost connection.

I would like to say that this unappreciated and rather untimely loss of connection isn’t typical, but unfortunately, it happens ALL THE TIME. Oftentimes, we have no connection at all and the electricity is a story in itself. For example:

Photocopies can only be made in the morning, between 9-12:30pm because those are the hours when we have an electric current. The rest of the time we run on solar energy, which isn’t that powerful. We spend a great deal of time rotating all the plug-ins for our four laptops, two photocopy machines, and two printers (not too much energy can be used at once). We also can’t have the lights on; except in the evening, and only if we are using fewer than three computers and nothing else.

In any case, helping Jean register for his first email (which took almost an hour) has made for one of my favorite days! Sr. Alba printed the page: “Felicitations et Bienvenue à Yahoo” (Congratulations & Welcome to Yahoo) for him to keep. I could tell he was very happy and also grateful that he registered himself. He returned the following day to write his resume!

Here’s how I see it: It’s awesome that he has an email account to connect, but it’s essential that he learn how to use the computer. It’s discouraging sometimes for me, the number of adults that I have to assist in scanning, saving documents to flash drives, and even sending emails. I try to explain and insist (which takes a lot of encouragement on my part) to have them sit in front of the computer themselves, and learn. Computers are still a very new technology, especially in Aru, and its taking time to learn the basics.

Compared to most people in Aru, I’m a genius at the computer and that isn’t saying much. I share what I know and as for the rest: all in good time. Why? Because that is our only option; Aru (like many small, developing villages) is desperately in need of people who actually know what they’re doing. This can be seen not only at the Cyber Café, but in many situations. (I will be writing more detail on this topic throughout the year.)

I really enjoy my time at the Cyber Café. Sr. Alba and all our customers are very helpful in my learning French. Some other things I’ve done at include: transcribing English, French & Lingala documents and typing project proposals for various organizations. One organization is raising awareness in surrounding villages about the Lord’s Resistance Army (Ugandan rebels). Nearby villages have been attacked and many people have fled to safety in Aru. This has caused a scarcity of resources and rising tensions between both the local population and the refugees or internally displaced persons. The organization is hoping to receive a grant to pay for seminars and Radio programs in the area. Hopefully, they will receive the funds!