Processing...

My psychological, zen sister, the title I have been referring to her as of late, told me I need to process. In the wake of the traumatic events that happened in November, I have been sort of lost as to what processing is. I even asked her « what does processing look like ? » Her response – « talk about it. » Talking is very hard ! I am a strong mental processor, not verbal. I analyze everything and come up with answers, conclusions, and solutions in my head – right or wrong. Talking leaves someone vulnerable to criticism and judgement. I have lived through other experiences in my life where I didn’t deal with my emotional and psychological pain and thus this time want to be cured.

Over the past weeks, I have found that post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a powerful thing. I think one of the attributes that makes it so hard to deal with is the fact that you can’t control it. PTSD manifests in the most random ways, times, places, and many different, unexpected things can trigger its onset.

The symptoms I have experienced most are nightmare's, flashbacks, anxiety, and jumping at sharp noises. Nightmare's are brutal as then it creates a fear to even try to sleep. Flashbacks you can’t stop from coming or going. Anxiety is exhausting. These first three can be experienced in your head but jumping at random sounds is an outward sign of what you are dealing with inside thus demonstrating to those around you, you are not ok.

As each day passes, the PTSD does as well. I no longer experience anxiety attacks. The flashbacks aren’t as vivid and long lasting as before. I still have nightmare’s, which have been the most painful to deal with but they are reducing in frequency. I sometimes jump at random noises but my pulse isn’t out of control like before. I am learning to be patient with myself. I have a new-found desire and appreciation for mental health. In the wake of PTSD and a traumatic incident, I am left with many questions and find myself fighting for answers.

In the moments and midst of the events in November, I had to ask myself : what is important to me ? I had always said that I would be willing to risk my life to work in Africa because I am convicted this is where I am supposed to be. If I ever died working in Africa, it would be ok because it would be where and doing what I love. But – that was before the test. I had to re-evaluate and probably still am, my bold statement. In order to move forward, I have had to accept that risk. 

The second thought is the act of actually dying. After three days of gunfire, stress, and uncertainty the idea of dying was a welcome relief. In the moment, I wasn’t surprised at this thought as it was natural. I think it has only been afterwards that I reflected on the meaning of that emotion. Of course I don’t want to die and I don’t entertain morbid thoughts, however, in the moment dying seemed very peaceful. I have asked myself, am I ok to die ? Have I achieved what I wanted to ? Are my relationships what I want them to be ? Am I proud of the person I am that I would die with dignity ? All of these questions are very hard to grapple with and challenge every part of your life : spiritual, mental, physical, relational, and psychological.

My final question is what I want my future to look like. I say « is » because I haven’t found the answer to that one yet. It is continuous. It seems as though my life has been lived in foreseen, planned blocks of time with anticipated end dates : four years of college, 1.5 years of graduate school, seven months in Madagascar, and now a signed, two year contract in Congo – which would naturally be reaching it’s end in 2013 if going according to plan. In some ways living life like this is very comfortable. You can’t predict the future but you can anticipate what is coming next. I have come to the conclusion though, I don’t want this for my future. I am held captive to predetermined time and space. I am tired of expiration dates. I want some more question marks in my life.

The new year is always filled with fresh desires, new found aspirations and dreams, resolutions, and changes to be made. I wouldn’t say the clock turning to January 1, 2013 in and of itself is what has provoked me to make 2013 different but rather my recent life experiences. I have been taught that life is unexpected despite the boxes I tend to live in. I realized there are pleasant surprises waiting to be discovered. I have seen the good, bad, and ugly of humanity in many different ways but somehow have to find a way to keep on loving and living .

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.