Dr Matern and I

I am not sure who wished the bad karma on Dr Matern and my interactions together, but somehow, someway, something bad always happens when we are in company. Dr Matern is the chief adviser for all Medair medical projects here in Congo. You know he is quite smart, because, well, he is a doctor. I find him to be a bit ditzy and the type of person whose mannerisms just make me laugh. He is quite pointed and direct, which is a trait sometimes hard to come by in Congolese culture thus adding to his already unique compilation of behaviors. When working together, often times I find myself following in his smiling wake cleaning up some of the small disasters he unknowingly creates.

Dr Matern is with us here in Isiro for the next week helping to close a project. Since he arrived today and I had to take something from him, I decided to give the chauffeur the weekend off and drive to the airport myself, later fully regretting this decision.

I arrived a few minutes early at the airport which 50 years ago was a beautiful place. Today, it is depressing time capsule of broken windows, decrepit baggage belt, paint that hasn’t been reapplied in well, 50 years, and a cheesy bar with plastic chairs where local authorities are found slurping their beers and eating fried, juicy caterpillars that were only minutes before squirming in a bucket with their friends lucky enough to enjoy the upcoming flight on Congo’s blacklisted airline alive, at least until it crashes like most Congolese airplanes eventually do. Thankfully that wasn’t the case today and Dr Matern arrived safe and sound disembarking the plane looking a bit dazed and confused all the while sporting his chic Medair cap and trademark smile.

For once I was thankful for Congolese impatience and pushiness as he made his way to the front of the airport authority line to get his papers stamped releasing us from our need to grace the airport with our presence any longer. We walked out the door bags in hand only to discover our vehicle had a flat tire. I was a bit surprised for two reasons: we had just changed that exact tire the day before and Dr Matern hadn’t even been in Isiro for more than 10 minutes and we were already faced with a dilemma.

After changing the tire the day before, the mechanic remembered to put the spare in the truck but not the jack or the lug wrench. It was soon apparent that there really is no African ingenuity that can substitute for a jack and lug wrench needed to change a truck’s tire. Dr Matern and I hunkered down in the hot truck listening to hip hop on the only radio station that picks up signal preparing to wait for someone to bring us the necessary tools from the base, only 9 kilometers (5miles) away but a 30min drive. Vehicles surrounded us and the thought crossed my mind to ask one of them for a jack and lug wrench but I honestly didn’t have the faith that they would have the tools either. Let’s be real, Congo is the place where we deal with the crisis when it occurs instead of planning ahead, like we were so accurately demonstrating.

Dr Matern relaxed in his seat to only shoot up a few seconds later having an epiphany but backed with more faith than me to actually ask one of the owners of the vehicles around us for the necessary tools. Thankfully someone had them and came to our rescue. Dr Matern hunkered down in his recently shinned dress shoes and creased dress pants proving to be more macho than I originally gave him credit for. I sincerely thought I was going to have to be the one to organize a positive outcome to this travesty. But, Dr Matern came through thus equaling the score. Moments later we sped down the airport road in fourth gear, the only one in Isiro you can do that with. I smiled and waved at the solider trying to get a bribe from me enabling his drinking habit, which I gracefully talked myself out of when entering the first time. Another victory for Team Kristie and Dr Matern, however, we will see how long this victory dance lasts as Dr Matern is in Isiro for another 7 days!