It is definitely getting closer and I am definitely getting a little nervous. I've repacked each bag at least twice, trying to be more practical each time. It is my goal to stay within weight limits and have only one extra bag. I keep finding things I want to bring. So much for the hundred thing challenge. I have actually discarded a lot through my repacking rituals.
Right now I'm grappling with the bike issue. I really want to take Mohamed's bike. It is small enough to consider and reliable for hours of entertainment. He loves his bike. I do not want to be trying to purchase a bike in my first month there.
It shouldn't be an issue, except I'm trying to get to Congo on a shoestring. (After all, why should this part of my life be any different than the rest of it?) Somehow I missed the incredible visa fees and so am running very close to low right now. Maybe we'll make it. Getting reimbursed isn't much help if you haven't got it in the first place.
I've done this before, travel to Africa on a shoestring. I remember we went to a doundoumba, a large celebration with drumming and dancing. Kakilambe showed up, the traditional African bogeyman. Only when he shows up, it is on large, towering stilts. He is covered in long, flowing raffia and a dark mask. Somehow, he is able to dance and drum from up high on his perch and is truly a terrifying spectacle. He began to follow me around the crowd. I had a very distinct feeling of being in a spotlight. The field was too barren, he was too high and my skin was too white. Nowhere to go. He wanted money, a gift, a small sacrifice. Only I had nothing to give. For a moment I felt completely desperate; he was going to follow me around all night, demanding the riches he knew I must have. He did eventually move on to someone else, but for those moments, I felt completely exposed.
My trip went something like that. I had used every penny I had just to get there, maybe I had some in reserve for bottled drinking water (ahh, Coyah.) But there is no way to convince people in such a country that you have come all the way from America and have nothing to spend. It is quite rude actually, not to give small sacrifices to those around you. I suppose it is a bit like tipping the service industry here. It becomes a small way to show you are pleased.
It was impossible to talk about how hard it was to find the money for such a long voyage across the ocean. Hard work? Difficult times? In America? Surely, you jest.
Which is how I ended up, days later, holding a tiny African queen. She was a little beauty whose young parents were encouraging me, yes, take her to America with you. I was quite shocked. I could only smile politely and decline. It is not so simple really.
In my youth, I became easily frustrated by this argument, remembering my two little ones and how much I struggled to provide something like a home and a life for them. Yet, here I was, halfway around the world by a stroke of luck. There was no way to explain the contradiction. People are starving everywhere.
It's been a long seven years since my last journey. I have definitely become something of a different person. But I'm still traveling to Africa on a shoestring. There are things to remember here.
