Why do I write about happy stuff?

I got an email today from a high school teacher who is teaching a class on Africa and the Middle East. She said this...

"We have spent the last few days talking about Congo and my students have voiced over and over again how they can't believe this is the first they have heard of it, especially considering the magnitude of the situation."

The class has been reading my blog and has posted questions for me on their blog .
Check out their very interesting questions, as well as their other entries on the blog, and it will make you happy for the state of education in the US. (At least in this classroom!) I am afraid I won't be able to answer all their questions, but I am picking a few of them to answer here in the next couple days. Please feel free to add a comment and join in the discussion, whether you are a student or not. I think you will find it interesting. Here is the first one...

QUESTION ONE

"You talk about the hardest thing about living in the Congo is being white, and you also talk about how they like Americans and are friendly to you, so I'm wondering why you think that's the hardest thing? "

What I meant was that the hardest part of my experience in Congo was being white. There are certainly many, many things more difficult than my own experience there. In fact, let me start out by stating that I love Congo and have deeply enjoyed living there.

But on to the question at hand. The hardest part (or at least one of the hardest parts) of my experience in Congo was being white. And yet, as I said, people were extremely welcoming and friendly toward me. Yet still, I was always a "white person" and a foreigner, and would be greeted with those names every time I walked out the door. And of course every time we label someone, there are stereotypes that go with those labels. In this case, a white person is often assumed to be rich and willing to give out money. Are these the worst stereotypes to have? Perhaps not, but any label can begin to weigh very heavily. Many of the white people who are in Goma are often working with non-profit organizations that are there to give out aid to refugees, and so you can see how the assumption would begin that white people are rich and are there to give out stuff. But when you are living there for years and you don't have a supply of anything to give out, it gets a little frustrating to wear that label every time you walk down the street. Sometimes you just want people to see you and not your skin, and that is not always easy when you are in the minority.

The second thing that makes being a "white person" or really an American of any color, difficult is that we are rich. No matter how humbly I live, or how poor I am in America, the truth is that I still have many more resources than most Congolese people. So what do I do with that? I found it difficult to be white in Congo because of the way that I was perceived by others, but also because of the way it forced me to perceive myself as part of a larger world, which in all reality is incredibly unjust.

"and also you talked about a lot of the good things going on in the Congo and in your life, and all I have seen and heard is the bad stuff about the Congo and I'm wondering do you see it and just not want to write about it or what?"

Hmm...Do I see the bad stuff and just not write about it? Why do I write so much happy stuff? Interesting question. Once I had the reverse comment. A young Congolese man pointed out that all people ever hear about Congo is negative stuff, and that I should depict Congo in a more positive light. So I guess I try to communicate some of both. It is a rough place with many difficult issues going on. But the people really are incredible on many levels, and the amazing thing about Congo is the way that life always goes on. I remember having visitors come to Congo shortly after the war started escalating last November and they were amazed to find that there were vendors in the streets, dance music blaring from the music shops and children playing soccer. Those images don't often make it in the coverage of "war-zones", but the fact is that the people of Congo have long ago learned to continue their lives in the midst of disaster. This doesn't mean that the disaster doesn't exist, or that it isn't terrible...it is. But it does mean that what you picture when you read the news articles about "the crisis" isn't the whole picture. I have spent the last three years just living life in Congo and working with some amazing people, and I guess that is what comes out in my blog.

But the war is very real. The refugees are very real. The epidemic of rape is very real. The disorder and insecurity are very real. If you dig around my blog a bit, I think you will find some of those entries as well.

All of that said...yes, there are things I don't (and can't) write about. I am just a regular person, I am not a war correspondent or a historian. I try to write about regular life and regular people, because that is what I know, but also because I think it is an important side to the story. We need war correspondents and advocacy groups to document the scale of the crisis, but we also need to be reminded that it is real people who live in the midst of it.

Grassroots organizations

Here is the next question...

My first question is this: when you first arrived, was there any hesitation to receiving a foreigner into the community? Did it take time to gain the people's trust or was it easier than you expected?

I would also would like to piggy-back off of "Mama Rena"'s question: I have many friends who are strong proponents of grassroots organizations in comparison to international orgs. coming into the country and attempting to solve their problems. What is your position on this issue? Should both types exist in order to aid international ties for future development, or is it best to have a solely grassroots initiative?


Ok Jacqueline, you managed to sneak a lot of questions in there! I'll do my best!

1. Congolese are very welcoming people. They like to talk and are quick to joke and laugh. I appreciated this very much when I first came here because I found it easy to engage the culture.

People here are particularly happy to talk to people who have come from Europe or America. I can not count the number of conversations that I have which go like this...

"where are you from?"

"America"

"oh that is GREAT...I LOVE Americans...Do you have a husband? oh...that's ok...how about a younger sister? Oh...how about a friend I could write to in America?"

People are anxious to have any connection they can to places they see as offering a better life. Additionally most Europeans and Americans who are here work with aid and development organizations or churches. And who wouldn't want to have a friend in high places, especially one that has come here to "help"?

I also found Congolese very friendly because I was trying to speak Swahili. When I came here I didn't speak French or Swahili. I decided to learn Swahili first (and I am still stuck on French). But the fact that I was trying to learn the street language here really made people happy. Even though I would butcher the language, they loved to see a "white person" trying to learn their own language.

Other than wanting to learn Swahili, I didn't think too much about trying to build people's trust, probably because they are so welcoming.

What I did spend a lot of time thinking about was how to break out of the box that people see me in. People trusted me, but they often trusted me as a white person, a foreigner who might help them out or give them something. The same thing that makes people want to talk to me, sometimes makes them see me in only one light. That said, I have been honored by the many people who have pushed beyond that. Sometimes I feel that the very people who have the right to ask the most from me, are the ones who have never asked me for a thing, and instead have given me the most. The SHONA women are some of my closest friends. They call me "Dada", which means "sister". When we marched in the women's day parade last year, I will never forget their reaction. As we marched together, people on the sidelines would often call out "mzungu" (white person). This is a common event here in Congo, and happens to me many times a day. But they truly seemed surprised by it. It was as though they simply couldn't understand why people kept calling me mzungu. To every single person they would calmly and earnestly answer "she's not a mzunugu; she is our sister".




On to the second part of your question...
2. That is an interesting comparison: between grassroots organizations and international organizations. Of course my natural inclination is to cheer for grassroots organizations. But unfortunately from what I can see here, many grassroots organizations and international organizations tend to have the same problem. They are often looking for funding. The constant search for funding tends to consume vast quantities of money on its own, creating top heavy organizations with people in offices getting much of the money meant for programs. The eternal quest for grants also tends to create organizations that take their shape based on whatever grants are currently available. For example when a lot of publicity is given to raped women in Congo (rightly so), grants for programs working with these women suddenly become available. And the next thing you know, you have a whole lot of organizations whose goal is to work with these women. But what were these organizations doing before? Whatever that program was, it is too often forgotten.

So I guess in both local and international organizations, one thing that I would look for is an organization that is driven by commitment to a specific goal (and by specific I don't mean "saving the world" or "ending poverty") and is committed to that goal long-term.

And perhaps more importantly I would look for organizations that have low operating expenses. This is perhaps my biggest frustration with international organizations. They often seem to consume so much money!

But one word on behalf of international organizations:
There are some roles that I believe the international community needs to play because local people can't. For example, organizations that research and publicize human rights abuses act as a watchdog in many countries where it is simply impossible for local groups to speak out. I wish that we, as an international community, would spend more time asking ourselves what exactly we have to offer. I do believe there are roles for the international community to play, but it often seems that we think we should play all the roles. when we take over responsibilities that can and should be held locally, I am not sure exactly what we are accomplishing.

But on the other hand...

There are MANY local NGOs here. I have been approached by many of them. They thought I might like to donate. Or have friends who would like to donate. For example, one day I was approached by an anti-smoking youth association, who also believe in helping the environment. What do they do? Well, nothing yet. But if they could just find some funding...

There is a strong belief here that no organization exists without outside funding. When I tell people about SHONA they say "oh, and you have found some good funding for this in the US. Perhaps you can help me find money for my organization". When I try to explain that we have no outside grants and operate largely on the money from our sales, they just don't believe me.

What is missing in Goma, are true community-based grassroots organizations that are led and funded by the community. These are the type of organizations that would be best suited to see and respond to the true needs of the population in a long-term, sustainable way. I often ask myself why they don't seem to exist here. Perhaps they once did, but when they saw the lifestyles of international NGOs and the possibilities of international funding, they changed course. Or perhaps the level of corruption in Congo makes it difficult for such organizations to exist without becoming simply one more way for the people on top of the organization to make a buck.

But I do believe this is one thing that Congo truly needs. I see the level of insecurity in Goma and wonder why people don't form community organizations to create security in their own neighborhoods. I see how strong the women of Congo are and wonder why they can't band together and use this strength to create real change in their country.

The women of SHONA attend weekly education classes. The courses cover basic French and Math, skills they need to succeed in this world. But we always have one class that has a wider focus. We just finished a course in "Faith and Action". We studied Harriet Jacobs, Rosa Parks, Mother Teresa and Wangari Maathai. I don't know why more community groups don't exist here right now, but I believe that change is possible.

Sticks and Stones...and the election too

"Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me."

What is the hardest thing about living in Congo?
The war, the insecurity, the lack of healthcare, the pollution...
No, absolutely not.
The hardest thing to me about living in Congo is being called mzungu (white person)

Seriously.

I've lived here over two years. I've probably been called mzungu atleast a couple thousand times. When am I going to get over it?

My husband suggests I stop walking around. Choose my company a bit more carefully. I suppose I could. But what is the point of being in Congo, if I live behind walls the whole time? I like to be out there in the streets, I like to hear what regular people are saying...

Except that what they are saying, half the time, is mzungu...

And this is why I am thankful for Obama's inauguration today. I don't think he won because he is black, and I don't think he one inspite of being black. I think people were just too busy looking at other issues.

And this is why in the end I can't get over being called Mzungu. Because here I am, in someone else's country, trying my hardest to get to know the people who actually live here. And too often, all they can see is my skin.

A year ago I thought Obama would never be president for the same reason.

Here's to change.

those we love

You gotta give it to our parents. They will go anywhere to be with us! Goma is not for the faint hearted. It is not exactly a tourist destination. And yet in the past two months we have had both my parents and my husband's parents here to visit us (along with a niece). They arrived as fighting in Eastern Congo is heating up again. And yet we all had a wonderful time.

Everyone loved seeing our parents here. I guess Congolese are used to seeing white people arrive, with aid programs or business deals. But they are not used to seeing them arrive with parents in tow. Sometimes, as I walk around Goma, i think that the children in the street don't believe that I am real at all. White people are simply strange beings from another planet, so rich and fortunate that nothing can ever touch us. Our lives are like the jewlery in a shop, glittering under its protective covering. But everyone has parents. Everyone can understand the love that brings parents half way around the world to see their child. Everyone can understand what it is like to have your loved ones far away. As i talk to friends across the world, as we try to hammer out lives for ourselves in the most disparate of worlds, it seems to me that this is one issue we all return to again and again. The people we love are simply too far away. I wish the world were smaller, so I could have everyone I love under one roof, or atleast in one country.

But in the meantime, until the world gets smaller, I am so grateful for loved ones who make the trip, even when it requires 20 hours in a plane.