Moldy Grape Pie

One of my favorite homemade treats is my mom’s grape filling. It is fall, family, love, and palatal goodness in a jar. I brought one jar to Congo with me last June and saved it for a special occasion. That occasion was Gab’s 30th birthday. I told him it was the most precious gift I could give him to celebrate this milestone. It was a conditional gift – he had to share it with me and only me. It was our secret. Monday night we delved into that pie with moderation, only eating a few forkfuls in order to savor the deliciousness for tomorrow not knowing what awaited the next day.
 

It has been a long time since I have experienced all of the fall holidays in the US sequentially : Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. It feels more than ever that Thanksgiving is a forgotten holiday – there is Halloween and then there is Christmas nothing in between. Stores are even opening on Thanksgiving advancing black Friday shopping a day early. It is as if commercialism is trying to eat family dinner, or at least downplay the significance of such a powerful family tradition. 

I have been thinking about Thanksgiving a lot recently as the holiday marks the anniversary surrounding the events that led to the evacuation of my team from Congo. Instead of eating turkey, we ate curry and rice three times a day in a Bangladesh UN camp. The two days before the holiday, Thanksgiving day, and the day after were perhaps the worst days of my life. These days are randomly re-lived in my subconscious.

I remember calling home Thanksgiving morning with reports of being shot at, crawling on the ground, and hiding in a sandbag shelter. Moments before crying with my sister on the phone telling her I didn’t know what was going to happen to us, I collapsed in Gab’s arms experiencing a complete mental breakdown. Through the sobs I whispered to her "Happy Thanksgiving" not even sure what that actually meant for me and my team.

This Thanksgiving gives pause for reflection. It reminds me of the things I took for granted such as safety, a  bed, and non-spicy breakfast food. But even more than that, I realized what I was really thankful for : communication, airplanes and committed pilots, family and the host of people praying and supporting me to the extent that I will never completely know.

If you are one of those people tempted to go shopping on Thanksgiving in order to score the best deals, I would encourage you not to. It was the laptop, camera, shoes, and clothes I left behind when we evacuated not sure if they would be stolen or there when and if we got back. Those things were the fartherst from my mind when I called home last year on Thanksgiving day. All I wanted was a piece of turkey and my family, not a black Friday 50% off sweater.

When we got back to Congo after one week of rest in Uganda, Gab found the grape pie molded in the fridge. The value I had placed on that pie had drastically depreciated ; however, the things that jar represented as listed above such as love and family had a new, more important signification. Thanksgiving will always be that for me now – moldy grape pie.

Not Over Yet

I have been out of Congo for two weeks now. I suppose that I had ideas in mind of what this post-Congo experience was going to be like and continued PTSD was not one of them. While I was in Bunia these recent months, I was fine. I would say since May, I had maybe two PTSD induced dreams. I assumed leaving would be the cure all. I thought living outside of my one road, one restaurant bubble would be my therapy. I was wrong.

In the last two weeks, I have experienced more symptoms of PTSD since immediately following the events almost one year ago in November. I have developed a strong fear of crowds, crowded places, or large venues in general. Today while wondering the streets of Paris and one of the most beautiful gardens I have ever seen, I subconsciously planned my escape route in the necessary event destroying my ability to enjoy the moment.

Previously every loud, sharp noise sounded like a gun shot - that all subsided but now it is back. When I disembarked the train in Paris, I heard a loud bang. I jumped and went through the motions of protecting my head. Everyone else around me continued walking as normal giving me the que that I was the only one worried about the unknown noise.

I can say that I am quite exhausted ! It takes a lot of brain energy to always be on hiper alert mode. It can also be discouraging seeing myself still struggling with this when I thought ‘getting out`  was going to be the end of it all. My environment is so unpredictable. Back in Bunia I expected riots, gunshots at midnight, the sight of AK-47’s everywhere - it was all so normal. Now I don’t see any of that anywhere but I am still expecting it. I feel quite vulnerable. I don’t have any thing or any one around me which previously before kept me safe. I feel like people can read my mind and with that use it against me.

I have forced myself to live life as normal. I have gotten on planes, trains, buses, into shopping malls, and walked for miles in open places. It has been a huge challenge. I am so absorbed with knowing everything that goes on around me I have lost my sense of direction or whereabouts which is then another frustration.

I am not sure what else to do aside from keep trying. I have a constant battle being played out in my mind : mentally freak out and then mentally calm myself down again. It's a constant roller-coaster. Living an isolated life isn’t an option for me but suffering mentally isn’t a desireable one either.

My Check-list

Gab says I like bullet points and lists. He also says that I over think things and analyze too much. He thinks that Excel has gotten into my brain and lives there. This is quite different conception of how I function compared to my sister Jackie who thinks that I live by flying by the seat of my pants. Maybe I am a mixture of the two...

As I was growing up, I always had targets for myself: finish school, go to college, get a professional job, travel, work in Africa, etc. I always had one of these objectives looming just at my doorstep daring me to continue and try to conquer it. I can say that I have accomplished everything I had on my 20's to-do list and even beyond that. Needless to say at some points in time during the last 6-8yrs my life felt a bit like a check-list saying in my head that the fun would come after the next step conquered.

After two and a half years, I will be leaving Congo in a few weeks. Working in Congo was also on my "to-do" list. It is a country that is so complex and it interested me even from afar. My time here has given me such valuable experiences and lessons learned. Congo will always be a part of me.

But now? I have a master's degree. I have visited eight countries in sub-Saharan Africa. I have flown more airplanes that I can count. I have learned a second language. I have met amazing people and seen amazing things.

What's next??

You would think that I am freaking out by that question, well, some day's I do but now I have someone else in my life that is giving it a new meaning and perspective. In some ways, I am lucky to have completed the checklist before meeting him because otherwise I think he would throw it out the window.

Gabriel Suarez came into my life in March 2011. I heard his name, knew he worked in South Sudan with Medair, and was then hanging out in the Swiss Alps snowboarding. I didn't think much of it. I then met this hunky Latino in person exactly one year later on Medair's doorstep in Congo, or rather in front of Medair's toilet sick with some random African bug.

Over the last year and a half our relationship has developed, changed, been challenged, been shot at, but continued. I am leaving Congo with this amazing experience behind me and an unknown future with this amazing man before me.

The check-list is finished. There is nothing left on it and I don't want to fill it up again. In one month's time, the future is completely unknown: no job, no house, no idea what is next let alone where. But just like it all has fallen into place all of these years, I know it will again. Gab has taught me that a recipe for life is a bit boring. Regardless of what comes along next, it will be our dreams, not my check-list.

Morning Annoucements

Monday 10th of June : Friday June 7th around 11pm a group of armed bandits entered a house in Quartier Bokoko, Bunia. The authorities were notified. A few gun shots were exchanged and one bandit was captured as he was shot in the leg and is now in prison.

Wednesday June 12th : The evening of Tuesday, June 11th, a small village 40kilometers from Mamabasa was attacked by the MaiMai militia group. Three were killed and a 7yr girl was kidnapped. She was returned the next day but had been sexually violated.

Friday June 14th : Early this morning there were clashes around Boga between the FARDC (Congolese Army) and FRPI (militia). Two military soldiers were killed, four militia men, and three women raped. The local community has fled the region and is now hiding in the forest. 

Good morning ! Welcome to my week ! 

Morning announcements are given every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 8:30am. If there is a major incident, as the ones listed above are normal and routine, we will receive intentional notification outside of the official announcement hour. This is how I start my morning : no cup of coffee and definitely no Good-Morning Congo displaying this summers latest fashions and BBQ recipes.

When you come into this line of work you make a promise that people will never become statistics like the academic journals or CNN portray them. And you promise you will never become jaded to human suffering like that missionary kid you went to graduate school with who disgusted you so much with his ability to recount horrific stories as if it was found in a normal children’s book. 

It is interesting because as I actually write this blog post, I realize more how horrific this all is. When I sit in the meeting three times a week, it is a part of my normal work day. I do sometimes cringe, especially when I hear of 7yr old girls getting raped, which was a real announcement a few weeks ago; and probably every week before for the last 20years here in Congo. Often times you know it is quite severe and disgusting when you see the local population shake their heads and wince during tri-weekly announcement period. 

All of this hit a lot closer to home this week. One of our chauffeurs left on Tuesday to pick up one of our medical supervisors 4hrs away. Before mid-day and about one and a half hours into the trip, our vehicle got shot at. He was driving on one of the most dangerous axes in this region, also the same route I travelled in February with this very same driver. Two bullets were fired. According to the driver, one was shot in front of him and the second shot out the window behind the passenger seat. Our organization is very well known and highly respected, which getting shot at came as quite a surprise but also burst our bubble we had been living in in regards to vehicle security. Needless to say, Wednesday morning announcement the following day felt a lot more real. 

I have frequently heard of the many people who pray for me on a daily basis. I wasn’t in that vehicle but someone I care about was. Since my time in Congo, I have come to believe more and more in angels and their work in my life. When I see our lands cruiser with a shattered back window and the trajectory of the bullet diagonal to our driver’s seat, you can’t deny he was protected. 

After being shot at not that long ago myself, this incident has brought much of my own memories back. The chauffeur is psychologically not doing well. He is experiencing PTSD and all for due cause. It is like looking in a mirror but it is quite interesting looking in that mirror a few months after and asking myself the question "is this really what I looked like?"

Please continue to pray for protection. Continue to pray for peace in Congo. And please pray for our driver – that he may heal from this trauma.