A Note from Brent

As my wife would tell you (assuming anyone reads this blog) I can create expectations for almost any event in my life. But because I was instructed on the laid back lifestyle in Africa I decided it would be best to limit my expectations.

One expectation I could not seem to get out of my mind unfolded this past Saturday. It started by simply remembering to put a soccer ball into my backpack before heading to the building site. Saturday turned out to provide a lot of sitting around time. This made my "expectation" possible.

Within moments of pulling out the soccer ball I had a crowd of boys anxiously wanting to see what was going to happen. I received help placing some bricks for goals and corner posts. I divided the group into 2 teams and indicated the start of the game by a whistle. Though mayhem ensued, the game was all I ever hoped (or expected) it to be. Kids having fun playing the game I adore.

They played with so much enthusiasm and excitement. We didn't need the side and endlines as the tall grass and new brick school created the natural boundary much further away then the ones I had created . I came away with cuts on my leg and arm and a big smile on my face. Thank God for the soccer ball donated by a soccer team in Calgary.

Bits and Peices Gathered about their Time in DRC

I've gone through my texts and notes scribbled on papers to gather all of those short little observations and bits of information obtained while they were in the DR Congo:

One night Desi was texting me and finally said he was still awake because of someone playing keyboard across the street. Then he texted me a while later and said- great, now the singers have started! And I wrote back that I didn't think he'd have trouble sleeping to music. He said he didn't but the music was so incredible he wanted to stay awake.


Before starting work on the school they spent a day fixing up Margaret and Dominic's house. They fixed the windows- rescreened them all (to better keep mosquitoes out) and fixed the broken glass.


The men did Home-Based Care as well along with the building project. I'm sure we'll hear more details of that when they get back. From the snippets I've heard things are very dire for families living there. But this isn't that much of a surprise. And some stories have already been posted of people they've come across. He says, "you don't understand- these kids have nothing. Just nothing- and every one of those kids are laughing and smiling..."

The always-needing-a-translator has been a difficulty of the trip. Desi has already determined to take French courses (and we'll practice at home, of course) because he's already looking forward to going back but wants to be better able to communicate next time. Not everyone knows French either- but a lot more know French than English! And while doing home-based care and wanting to be encouraging to families... the difficulty of the situation is only compounded by the language issues. Desi did say that he found it so much easier this time around to be encouraging even when faced with the devastating realities of life for them. This can be shocking and difficult at first.

He texted me one day about a little girl named Esperance. A very sick 8 year old with HIV. She was finally able to go on ARVs 3 months ago but was still extremely frail and sick in appearance.

Ruth had invited them over on several occasions for supper. Desi always remarked that she even had such great desserts. She was spoiling them with ice cream and mango puree or cheesecake. They also heard from her many stories of what it was like living there, especially in the early 90's. They were broken into and beaten by a mob of 15 men. Once, the older German missionary who, just passed away from cancer, was beaten into a coma lasting 11 days. But she never left. She just fortified her house. This is the house our men were staying in. It had a phone line connecting her to Ruth, It had a panic room. It had a switch in the kitchen that sounds a siren on the roof. It had metal bars and padlocks and locks of all sorts.... She spent the remainder of her time in DRC as secured as was humanly possible. But she didn't leave. And Ruth has weathered the difficulties... What kind of courage or patience or most of all HOPE would it take to stay?

Throughout their time there I've gotten texts about the water and power. Both were intermittent (email too) and on some days there was neither. Sometimes they wouldn't have water for days at a time. But Ruth took care of them, bringing them water and even heating it up for them to bathe. They are going through a lot of drinking water due to the heat, bottled or well-boiled. Desi said that water boils amazingly quick there. The difference in power voltage was very apparent.

The building projects in Africa are always a unique experience for our Canadians. They poured the foundations, they had to do a lot of negotiating and exercise a lot of patience and diplomacy to get concrete for some of the work (due to the mines who use it all leaving little for anyone else). They rehired the contractor, Maurice, who'd started the preparations for them. He is, of course, knowledgeable and it seemed important that he remain in the loop since the project will be left still in need of a little work so he was rehired for two weeks and then they were going to negotiate a price for finishing the job.

There is another school on the block being built by World Vision. This is a bit of a complicated issue and came largely from a local man pitting one against the other. But peace and a relationship has been formed between World Vision and our guys who see that the need is greater than even both can fill anyway. The confusion is that the WV school is a school that one must pay to attend, with the money going to a church who will run it. Hands at Work only builds free schools and they provide a meal every day. It seemed important to Desi that they communicate. One thing Desi did was to see the plan for the other school and to modify the Hands at Work plan to have matching roof lines so that the two schools would relate to each other. World Vision didn't understand the significance of this at first, but Desi explained that already there is a bit of a class division going on in the community and yet there was a need to not further divide the community by education. So having the schools match, as they are right near each other was one way of trying to not distinguish the paying school from the free school. The local chapter of World Vision there understood and agreed. The relationship will be maintained by Farzam, another Canadian working with Hands at Work long-term.

They were told before leaving not to even bring shorts. Shorts aren't worn and can be insulting. On the first day they met Maurice, the contractor, he changed from his pants into shorts when he started work. So the following day- our team all showed up working in shorts too. They were SO grateful given the heat to be allowed the freedom. While we were suffering Spring blizzards they were equally suffering end of Summer heat waves.

They went to a "market". It was actually just a shopping district of Likasi with little shops and storefronts. Dominic had to do the bargaining for them because of the language barrier. (I know this would have been a bit of a disappointment to Desi, bargaining is his favorite part) I'd asked him to keep an eye open for bushmeat- but he said they told him that it was only seen in outside areas, not seen very often anymore. They bought cloth.

They worked many long days and Desi spoke a lot about the corruption that was so much a part of normal life in a country with no economy, where real business is almost impossible. They would get bags of cement that had been opened and with some cement replaced with fine sand and the bag resealed. Corruption at every level. I'm sure we'll get an earful when they return. There were many meetings to negotiate all sorts of things and to build relationships... This has been one of the most difficult elements of life for Margaret and Dominic and they sometimes find it insufferable, like Pastor's wives blatantly stealing food from orphans... just crazy stories. They are finding it increasingly difficult to trust anyone. This only encourages Desi about the need for teams to go in and help them out and strengthen them. They are living this reality and need all the support and help they can get.

Desi loves it there. He finds the corruption sometimes exhausting but also a familiar game that doesn't scare him out of liking the country. He said that even with the language barrier he can tell from tone of voice, eye movements and hand motions what is really going on and he's been able to navigate the waters. He describes the people as beautiful and he's met some really special and devoted and moral people. He loves the brightly colored buildings and the spirited culture. Lots of dancing and singing... People walking everywhere. Little to no begging. And exciting, fun type of busy- more social and free. People are more reserved at first than in Zambia, but are very nice. A married man with kids is called "Papa", like sir. Even the guy you're negotiating with in the market. The kids put their right hand across their chest bow their heads and say "bonjour Papa." Women are called "Mamie." Desi loved this endearing element.

I got this text once. "So, if you run over a chicken or goat it's not your fault. But if you run over a duck, sheep or pig you have to pay to replace it. Law of Congo."

Every now and then we (the wives) hear reports of the men huddled around an iPod to watch a movie. Bob sat out of the first one to do some writing, but even just the other night I get texted that the 5 of them all watched a movie on Paul's iPod. This is a funny thing to picture, I think.

Anything else to add? Feel free to comment to this post.

Sounds of a Sunday morning in DRC and details of their return itinerary.

Desi recorded a few sounds for me on his phone. (wish we'd thought of that sooner...)

This first one is of the church service on Sunday morning.

And this next one was recorded when later in the day the Home-Based Care Volunteers cooked a meal and had a farewell party for the guys.

Their itinerary:

Monday: Drive to Lubumbashi and stay a night at the guest house where they stayed on their way in

Tuesday: Fly out from Lubumbashi to Ndola, Zambia. They'll be there overnight

Wednesday: Fly to Johannesburg. They'll stay there overnight.

Thursday: Fly out to Calgary with a 4 hour layover in Frankfurt. (But because of the timing they'll have to stay in the airport in Frankfurt this time, nothing is open yet.)

Desi texted me at 3:40 AM last night (Monday morning). It said "made it to the guest house, dropping off bags and going shopping for curios".

I look forward to seeing everyone midday on Friday!!

Bob's follow-up update

This is a follow up to Bob's earlier story:

I asked around about the possibility of getting a small water testing kit to check for bacterial levels in the water well I mentioned. From the response I got there isn't one on the continent. Plan B was to get in to see the World Vision office in Lukasi and ask for their input or assistance. Much to my surprise Desi and I got right into see the head of WV and he gave me two of his staff to go directly to the site. The good news is that the residents already understood not to use that well for drinking. I also learned that there was a serious Cholera out break there and an NGO had given everyone chlorine to treat their wells. So all's well that ends well.

Bye for now
Bob

The Story of Longtin

The latest news from Desi:

Did you know you can find real life heroes living in a slum? I tell you, you can, I met one today, a broken old man who has something to live for.

Twenty years ago the love of his life went blind suddenly & he has taken care of her ever since. Just over five years ago his son-in-law died of AIDS & he began taking care of his daughter & 3 children. Five years ago his daughter also died of AIDS leaving 3 orphans for him to care for, one born HIV positive. What is the life expectancy of a child born HIV positive? I tell you it cannot be much more than 5 years.

When we got to the house this evening Longtin was standing on the front porch coughing endlessly. She is a beautiful child, though you would never guess her to be 5 as she is so small. We heard stories of how she has fought so hard, with her grandfather encouraging her. She is finally old enough to go to school, has a uniform & everything. Unfortunately, she doesn't have the strength to make the trip. Sometimes when her grandfather is feeling strong he will carry her to school, otherwise she just puts on her uniform & sits on a bench at the front of the house. When she does make it to the school, which is sponsored by Hands at Work, the wonderful lady who is their teacher goes and gets a big comfy chair from her house for Longtin to sit in.

Her CD4 blood count gets checked whenever her grandfather is able to make the 2 hour journey with her to the hospital in Lubumbashi, on the bus. Her last test results said that she was finally healthy enough to begin taking the life saving anti-retroviral drugs (ARVs). Unfortunately, there are none available and her condition is worsening once again.

There we were all squished into the living room of their tiny 2 room shack. We gave them some food that we had brought, as they are a part of the Hands at Work orphan feeding program. Margaret then told them that we were from Westside Kings Church. She told them that Westside was the one that had been supporting their work here in DRCongo. She told them that we were the ones that had been supplying food, school fees & funds for health care to the family.

The grandfather began thanking us, thanking us for giving life to his family. This is one of those times I find extremely difficult. It becomes hard to put into words due to some sort of confusion. On one hand, I am honored to play a small role in what Westside & Hands at Work is doing in Africa. I am honored to be the individual who is able to receive this gratitude, from such an incredible man, for giving life to his family. On the other hand, it is hard to miss the fact that they are still barely surviving. You have to ask yourself, "is this enough, is this the best that I can do?" Or maybe even a better question, "is my being a part of this family barely surviving worth such gratitude from a man who labours every single day for their survival?"

Did you know you can find real life heroes living in a slum? I tell you, you can, I met one today, an incredible old man who has something to live for.

A short note from Bob Wall

Here is a short update from Bob:

How basic is water? Brian and I went on Home Based Care in the townships yesterday. I asked to see their water supply and they were very proud to show me the well that had been constructed. A cup was attached to a string and dipped into a small hole about 8 feet down. Several small children painstakingly were filling discarded plastic bottles to take home. Six feet behind us is a steady stream of raw sewage which is the source for the well.

I am going to try and do everything I can over the next week to correct this lunacy.

Please tell Debbie and the Wall flowers that I miss them more than they can know but we have some work to do here. All my love. Bob

A Moment, from Paul Smith

Well, we have a story coming in from another member of the team, Paul. This is what he wrote:

I went over to see how the pastor was making out, as we had lent him two wheel barrels full of concrete to repair the toilet. When I got there this beautiful little girl of about 2.5 years old was sitting and watching the pastor work. I decided to sit down beside her on an upside down bucket.

She was adorable. The pastors wife came over and had another girl bring me a chair. I certainly didn't need one, but they brought it and I sat in it.
Then an identical girl to the first one came over wearing the same pretty yellow dress. Then more chairs came out and more people sat down. The pastors wife told me they had about six orphans there from the same family- the twin girls, a boy about 9, and three girls in their mid teens. All beautiful children. Their father passed away in aug 07.

This was all very difficult to communicate as they could really only speak French and Swahili and I have a very limited grasp of French and all I know in Swahili is "jumbo" (hello) and "mizungo" (white person - we hear that a lot) I will be unbeatable in charades when I get home.

More and more children came over to us and I just tried to be present in the moment. The pastors wife said that the six orphans' father had been poisoned. The pastor finished with the concrete and I got up to take it back to the job site, but he called a few of the boys who were sitting around and they took the wheel barrel and shovel back to the site. The pastor needed one more wheel barrel full of concrete to finish his toilet repair. I told him I would bring one back right away.

When I got back to the site there was no more concrete available for the day. I went back to the pastor's house to let him know that he wouldn't get his concrete until Monday.

I couldn't find the pastor but I did see his wife in the window. I tried to get her attention and she beckoned me to come into her home, which I did. She asked me to sit on her couch and I couldn't say no. I just wanted to leave her the message about the concrete when she got up and went into a back room saying she will be right back. A few minutes later she returned with some pictures and they were of this man who was poisoned and then of his funeral. Many pictures of his casket and mourners. I still don't know if this dead man and six kids were related to the pastor and his wife.

Ode to Ruth

Well, we have somewhat settled in. We are currently in the city of Likasi and have spent four nights in the same place, which makes this home. We are living in a great little house that less than a year ago was occupied by a German missionary lady who had spent something like 40 years here. She was forced to return to German due to cancer. Next door and sharing the same courtyard lives Ruth. Ruth, also from Germany has been living here for about 20 years now. She has been awesome and has more than taken care of us. Ruth had met us at the border in order to help us get across and 3 of us traveled with her from there to Lubumbashi eating her homemade banana bread all the way.

Once we got here, the following day, she let us know that there were homemade waffles in the freezer and that we should check it regularly for other surprises she might leave. I think she is happy to have some male company around as she is really spoiling us all. When the power is out she brings hot water for our morning coffees, when water is off (as it has been for the past two days) there are buckets filled all over the house. Tonight she had charcoal all set up outside in case we wanted to heat water for baths. She also let Margaret and Dominic know that she would like to have us over for supper for the next two nights. She sends her cleaning lady to our house every afternoon to clean up the house and do laundry. She said she will not have it any other way. So, I want to take up some special space here to say thanks to Ruth for making us feel so much at home.

Entering the Heart of Darkness

Update from Congo via texting from Desi:

"This is not okay" is all we could repeat as we drove through the town into Congo yesterday.

Two and a half years ago when I read an article by Stephanie Nolen on the DRC I broke. I don't ever remember crying so hard, especially not since childhood. I knew at that moment I could not have something affect me like this and do nothing about it. Now here I was in the DRC with eyes watering trying not to let it start.

Well, we've made it. It has been a long journey. I feel as though I am one of the privileged few. How many people feel the need to do something like this and actually get to do it. I am also privileged to be able to do it with four great guys. We left the farm in Zambia around 7:30 which put us too close to the border too soon. We were now to be meeting people there at 12:30 to assist in our crossing and so we stopped in a quiet little town close to the border to kill a couple of hours. Once the time got close we were off again. Within 10 minutes there were people everywhere. Big trucks lined both sides of the street leaving only one lane in the centre for both us and oncoming traffic.



Guys were running after our vehicle waiting for us to stop to try and sell us something or help us get across, for a fee, the first part of what seems to be an insane money grab but as we would soon enough find out was part of an elaborate economic system. It was all quite surreal.

I don't remember how many times I thought, "this is a first for me." I know I have done many "first" things, but this was one of those moments when all of your senses seem to be racing, trying to take in everything going on around you. I think that in times like this, because you realize you cannot grasp it all, an entirely new emotion gets created. You know how you can smell something and it takes you back to another moment in time or you hear something and you return to a feeling you once had. That is what this became in an instant, a place and time to return to. I don't really know how else to describe it.

I think it took us about 1 1/2 hours to make it through. First we had to check out of Zambia. After that we walked through "no mans land," a place filled with parked cars and trucks, people everywhere, garbage covering the ground and dust covering everything. We were almost there. We had to stop at a little shed in order to "check in." This was the second part of their economic system, although I am not sure how much this one cost us.

Next we filed into a packed hallway of people waiting to see a customs agent. Our passports and immunization records disappeared and we waited standing, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening in the offices. There were two people who had met us in order to ease the procedure who were in and out of an office, arguing amongst themselves while the guy who had been following us around, looking for a way to be of use, for a fee, was trying to keep busy by going into the office every once in a while only to be yelled at and kicked out. The entry fee was finally negotiated. 10USD each ($50 total). Not bad. Margaret turned over a $100 bill and we waited for change. There, of course, was none as the fee had suddenly jumped to $20 each. Ruth, the German missionary who had come to help us, caught wind of this and marched back into the office with $50 and a yell and came out with the $100 bill. It pays to have friends at times like this.

We were done and on our way. What I saw next was a town that God seemed to have forgotten about. I know that sounds sacrilegious, but I could not help but wonder where God is. You feel that if He knew what was going on here he would surely punish somebody somewhere for allowing such a thing. There was garbage everywhere and it stank. There were little shacks built mostly of plastic bags and torn tarps over sticks. Those with any walls were the lucky ones. Naked children playing in the dirt next to a river of free flowing sewage. I have never seen anything so appalling in my life. One sentence kept running through my head over and over, "This is not okay, "This is not okay", "This is not okay." There is no level where this is acceptable. No human should have to live the way that I saw them living today.... this is not okay. I don't really know what else to say about that...

They stayed in Lubumbashi last night in a guest house and Margaret took them to her favourite restaurant for Chinese food where she is a VIP and they even got the VIP room.(I can't wait to hear what that's like) Desi said it was really good. Today they drove on to Likasi and arrived at about 4PM. Thirty minutes after arriving to their house the power went out.