Thank you!

Dear friends and family,

I would like to thank you for your prayers, words of encouragement and support these last days. It has been overwhelming. I have been safely resting in Uganda since Friday making plans to return to Congo soon.

Due to the sensitivity of the events last week and security risks, I can not publicly share here all that transpired. I will be sending out a mass email of my story so if you are interested in receiving that please send me your email address.

Thank you again for your love and support. Please continue to pray for D.R. Congo as a country and a people.

Blessings,

Kristie

Les Mbororos

About one month ago I made a trip to one of our field bases in Ango. It is the base I wrote my last blog post from. It was really great to be there and get reconnected with why I do what I do. One of the days we made a field trip to visit a group called “Mbororo.” They are an Arabic nomadic tribe that has migrated either from Chad or Central African Republic. The main reason they migrate is grazing pastures for their cows, which are HUGE and more the size of a horse.

Aside from the interesting group of people we were going to go visit, the actual trip itself is an adventure in and of itself. I haven’t had the opportunity to see much of Congo outside the walls of my office, so I was really excited to go. Congo is such a beautiful country with so much diversity. We traveled through forest, rivers, savannah, and rain forest all in the space of 2 hours. If the roads were better, two hours probably would have been only one but c’est la vie! Our driver told us that there were elephants and lions in the region but unfortunately we didn’t see anything. You know they are around as their meat can be found in the local market.

We anticipated needing to travel about two hours by car, 30mins by motorbike, and 30 mins walking to reach a camp of Mbororo. We completed the two hour by car bit and were greeted by a small group of Mbororo who were staying near the road side. We were informed that there was no camp but there were a few families living in the bush about 30mins walk. They suggested we come back in 2 weeks but we convinced them that we had already come all of this way and would really like to do it today. They graciously complied. We strapped on our backpacks, jackets, and boots in the blazing African humid sun forgetting the sunscreen and started off all the while praying I didn’t step on a poisonous snake in the 7ft grasses.

We hiked for about 30mins and were first greeted by the sight and smell of the Mbororo’s cows. They aren’t the friendly, cute kind of cows. These are cows with attitude, which I probably would have too if I had been forced to walk thousands of kilometers.

After the cows, we were greeted by the father of the family. We sat under the men’s hut while we caught our breath and drank water with floaty things in it. They had never seen white people before but were nonetheless very hospitable and welcoming. In order to communicate we needed a local Conoglese to translate from French to the local language of Lingala. And then one of the Mbororo spoke Lingala and translated to the others in Arabic. They explained that the main reason for our visit was to learn about their life, culture, and inform them they had access to our medical services.

We finished our brief introduction to the men and were then escorted to meet the women and children. They are so beautiful! Their skin color is a milky light brown, crazy hair, and obvious love of color. The women and children of course were much more timid having not seen white people before but also due to Arabic culture where men are the main point of contact. We tried to warm the situation up with taking some pictures and showing them their faces. Seeing their own reflection was a first since they don’t have mirrors and definitely not cameras. There were varied reactions from amazement and shock to giggles and even a few tears.

We were able to spend about an hour with them learning about where they have come from, their life, what they do on a day-to-day basis, and some of their biggest struggles such as being persecuted for the age-old struggle between pastoralism and agriculturalists, forced to travel south from their home due to climate change, no access to medicines or health care, and having to fetch water from long distances and from the same source their cows drink from. We only scratched the surface of their life and stories. When a nomadic group travels thousands of miles you can’t even begin to fathom the things they have seen or experienced along the way.

We prepared to leave but a sudden thunder storm forced us all to find refuge in their house. Despite the obvious language barriers, such a confined space allowed a closer interaction with the women and children. They began to laugh and share through smiles, gestures, and unspoken languages. Due to the lateness of the day, we were forced to commence our hike back to the vehicle through the drizzle. We said our good-byes leaving more as honored guests than white strangers.

Looking back on this trip weeks later it still lays fresh in my mind. Interfacing with people with such a different culture, background, language, and way of living does nothing but leave you in awe. I have so much respect for such people as the Mbororo who have obviously lived through so much. It is a reminder that we as humans are very adaptable and resilient – more so than we give ourselves credit for. There is also happiness and joy in the simple. It doesn’t mean simple is easy but rather quite challenging however we often put so much value on the things that aren’t simple. It would be very easy to look at the Mbororo and say we have nothing in common but even despite our obvious differences we as humans are all connected and desire the same things: to be taken care of, valued, respected, and the right of access to the basic necessities of life.

Jungle Rejuvenation

5:50AM. Beep, beep, beep goes my internal alarm clock. Even though my real alarm clock isn’t set until 6:45AM, my never ending to-do list jolts my body awake almost one hour before it is necessary to greet the world. Recently I have been living the definition of busy-ness. Starting work at 7am, ending at 7pm, not taking lunch breaks, dreaming about work, working weekends, being woken up by work all has been the definition of my life as of late.

Last weekend I wondered outside of Bunia, the city of dust, land cruisers, and my symbol of long work hours, to the peaceful savanna of a breeze, clean air, and natural scenery. I was shocked at my body’s response to the change. I realized how much I had missed the natural sounds of birds, wind, stillness. 

Monday came as it always does and with it the endless questions, middle-of-the-night-checklists, and the daily influx of 50 emails. Throughout the week it became apparent that I might need to travel to one of our field bases. In reality, I was the only one “available” enough to make the trip. After convincing the UN that the change in their flight planning was vital, I successfully secured a flight.

Arriving at Bunia airport usually is my body’s cue that it is ok to being shutting down as I am headed on an airplane on vacation; however, this particular trip was not that. Regardless, my brain didn’t make the connection between the location and my “ordre de mission” (mission order) stating this trip was work not pleasure and began shutting down anyways. Even though it was only 9am, I starting yawning. I gave myself a little peep talk reminding it I am travelling to go work some more. 

I was the only passenger on UNHAS (UNHOUSE) flight which resembles a millionaire’s personal jet with carpeted flooring, air conditioning, leather padded seats, and the warm greeting “welcome aboard Madam” from the co-pilot. It only took a few minutes to fall into a frigid slumber hoping this small rest would snap my weary body back into action despite my exhaustion and desperate need for vacation. 

I woke up in time for the decent into Ango, a town in northern Congo close to the boarder of CAR (Central African Republic). Ango is a beautiful mix of jungle, savanna, and river – one of the most beautiful descents I have made in DRC. I was once again reminded of how beautiful, diverse, and lush Congo really is. 

To be honest, I was a bit hesitant coming here because the most frequent news update we receive from our base is the weekly snake killing count. Also knowing how exhausted I am, I really wondered how I was going to be of any help. Thankfully due to remoteness, lack of power (aka internet), and arriving on a Friday, it forced me to take a whole weekend off – which I haven’t done in two months. 

Saturday I felt my body really responding, almost de-toxing from stress. Slowly by slowly I am feeling more like a human being again. I left Isiro three months ago tired of the jungle but I had forgotten how therapeutic the sounds of the birds, children singing, walking paths through mud huts with people playing drums provoking African dance, and the beautiful African sky are for my soul. The natural is necessary.

Rocks and Ditches

It seems as though I have hit a stream of bad luck as of late. 

A few weeks ago on Monday morning while on the way to the office, my colleague and I accidentally drove into a riot. A group of students were protesting the lack of electricity on their campus, which is conveniently located directly across from our main office in town. Despite people’s attempts to tell us to turn around, me being the driver, drove closer to burning brush piles and angry people. 

Random gestures from pedestrians is very common thus why the initial alert wasn’t out of the ordinary. In the process of turning around, we were close enough that our vehicle was pelted with rocks and the mob began running towards our vehicle. Thankfully there wasn’t any significant damage to the land cruiser or my head, as they flew past that general direction. The mental dilemma in that second was to either close the window and potentially have broken glass in my face or a large rock instead.

Needless to say my three point turn skills were whipped out in speedy fashion but not speedy enough according to my colleague acting like a frighten little girl in the passenger seat. 

This past week my bad luck with driving vehicles in Congo was yet again confirmed. I was sent on a mission to retrieve dinner from a local restaurant in town.  The night was very rainy thus making the dirt roads quite slick. I managed to successfully reverse out of the parking lot and narrow gate, obstacle number one down. The next challenge was to cross the small wooden bridge connecting the shoulder and the main road with about a 4 foot deep drainage ditch in-between. 

While driving a right handed vehicle and the ditch on the left side with pouring rain and slick road, I managed to find my front left tire in the crater. It made a very loud crunch. Land cruisers are very expensive thus igniting my adrenaline on top of the fact that I was alone, in the rain, with my phone accidentally forgotten at home, and the realization there are no tow trucks or AAA in Congo. 

I raced back into the restaurant searching for the manager to help me make a call after which I realized I have no one’s numbers memorized. A few minutes later word had gotten out that my very large land cruiser was one nostril down in the ditch. I joined the crowd remembering I had left the doors unlocked with my wallet inside, the only thing still existing that could potentially save me from this situation. 

Upon arriving back on the scene, the vehicle was surrounded by quite the crowd. They unanimously decided to pick my car out of the ditch. Me of little faith internally questioned how eight men were going to lift my land cruiser out of this crater back onto the road. And even if they did, how would it even start for me to drive back home ? I was certain something was broken.

To my surprise it only took about 3 minutes for these men to heave my car and place it back of all four tires again. Of course I was then surrounded by the mob asking for $100 for their services. Thankfully I had been at the restaurant for over an hour waiting for my take-out order and by that point was bff’s with several people who came to my rescue with crowd control. 

Congo always proves itself to never  be boring. Now I can add to my resume experience in escaping riots and getting expensive equipment out of a small canyon. I will never underestimate the power of the human body ever again. Hopefully my bad luck is over as it has almost been a week since my last incident.