Last weekend I passed the infamous "bridge" which has been laying
awkwardly in the River Ituri for the last two years - brought down by
a massively overloaded truck - which appear to be common here.
Meanwhile, a mega-entrepreneurial exhibit of Congolese
opportunism/desperation manifests itself in markets on either side of
the river with young girls selling doughnuts, kids selling peanuts,
and a bunch of kiosks and little restaurants. People are surprisingly
indifferent to mzungus (white folks) who arrive and take tons of
pictures of what looks like absolute chaos! They've just become used
to it, or are more interested in their business. Well-muscled young
men haul yellow crates of Primus beer from truck to boat, and at $10 a
day, make fat cash compared to the average Congolese. I didn't see
the stout log-chockers this time. They foist huge timber cuts upon
their heads and look like their back or neck could give out at any
time...and you'd better get out of their way when they're porting
downhill towards the ferry.
The deckhands include the piroguers, who push their hollowed-out log
pirogues as far upstream as they can before chuting across the river
with the current. Then there are the teams of 5+ who pull the fully
loaded ferries across the river the old-fashioned way - hand over hand
man power. These ferries feature the empty Primus trucks, Nile Coach
passenger buses(!!), and any smaller or larger vehicle - really any
vehicle at all! Somehow there is only one main rope - and it looks
like a big boat jam, but teams with smaller ropes hop from boat to
boat and "portage" some boats around the bottlenecks.
I was a bit bemused to realize for the first time that Primus (which
seems to make up about 1/4 of all cargo - Congolese like their Primus
could go without saying) was going both ways across the river. Why
the Primus-huckers from opposite coasts don't organize a clean swap I
just can't understand? Presumably it has to do with glass bottle
ownership?! Literally, they must spend hours or most of a day -
moving Primus off a truck, onto the the ferry, and then across, and
then on to a waiting truck on the other side.
It won't be long now until this scene changes, as the Nepalese UN
Battalion has put the new bridge in place. It looks great to me as we
won't have to wait an hour or two, and pay $50 just to cross. It
probably looks not-so-great to the several hundred people who made
their money from the bridge being in the river. It certainly cannot
be forgotten as a metaphor for much of Congo. If things actually
worked, then who gets to benefit?
Now I am the man of the house, as my roommate left. Some of his
British sayings may stay with me and even pop up from time to
time....dodgy; thick idiot; and brilliant; are all sayings I enjoy!
So my Mama has a bit less to do now, which is good because she works
hard. Yes, I have cooked absolutely nothing in the nearly 3 months
since arriving; Mama cooks and cleans everything. I would have little
idea how to manage the charcoal, search our market-less village for
ingredients, or have the patience to prepare. Needless to say, my
cooking career appears yet very hopeless. She has worked here for a
long time, has three young kids with adorable names: Lydie, Astrid,
and Don de Dieu (Gift of God). Truly she is a lovely lady, who
patiently puts up with my incomprehensible and infantile French, and
makes the best darned natural peanut butter because she knows I like
it.
Other ramblin thoughts: In Congo, people have a little more flair to
their fashion than the neighboring countries. Here, people might have
one pair of jeans, but it will either have Chuck Taylor sneakers,
clocks, or "Obama" embroidered on them. For another example, some
women have braids that literally stick out in every single direction -
which leads me to wonder if they are exempt from hauling water - which
is typically carried by women on their heads.
If I grew up here, I'd probably walk everywhere, be given daily tasks
of fetching water, soap, vegetables from the town center. Kids are
given pretty free reign, but I think they're pretty obedient and
better at sharing than most kids in the US. Also, if we were lucky
enough to own a motorcycle, my entire family of four might ride it
together when we needed to make a road-trip.
Also, while I sit here writing a bunch of goofy thoughts back to some
readers I wish to reach, talking about all these wild experiences I've
had thus far this year; villagers of Epulu mourn a park guard and a
porter who were killed in a fire-fight with elephant poachers
(apparently 3 of who were killed). Things might be all and well for
me, but for mostly everyone else here, life is a pretty big
struggle...too many people are lost here to different maladies due to
lack of available routine medical treatment, accidents and violence.
Somehow globalization through different time scales (recent debt, poor
multilateral policies, or ancient colonial hauntings) could be
considered the primary fault here, while in my US home, our problems
are comparably small and mostly home grown. Then again, the poachers
who pulled the trigger were undoubtedly Congolese - so it is not
outsiders who will fix things here, that is clear; but finally we're
starting to realize we have an effect.
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