None of which make living in Kinshasa any easier. I stopped at the bank today- unsure if it was open or not, I pulled into the spot just before the closed gates (usually open when the bank is open. Reasonable, right?) After noticing a few cars still in the parking lot, I decided to pull ahead and park just off the road, thinking maybe those cars would be exiting any second (haha.) Of course, the roadway was filled with traffic and I waited for an opportune moment to merge. The bank security saw me idling and came over. Yes, I knew I had to leave but of course, figured it was traffic permitting. After watching me wait and look behind me for several minutes at long lines of cars, he came over and tapped on my window. "Pull ahead," he said as he motioned forward, grinning hugely. Friendly even, the way you grin at the town idiot who talks to herself.
Which is kind of what I was doing. I have had that kind of week where it made perfect sense to me to roll down the window and tell him I was waiting for a break in traffic before pulling out onto the roadway. Logically. It wouldn't make sense to pull out into traffic. And therein lies the error. A bystander jumped off the car he was sitting on and stepped before me to motion exactly where it was I supposed to be. I didn't need guidance, I just needed some patience to let the cars pass. After visiting the ATM and getting ready to pull forward into an empty lane of traffic, the helpful (?) bystander again flew from his perch and landed in the roadway, ready to help me steer into the path of any oncoming (now nonexistent) traffic. I had now become the incompetent mondele who couldn't drive. It wasn't until much later (and maybe a beer) that I realized they all thought it would be perfectly normal to pull right out in front of the 10 wheeler cement truck coming my way. Of course, the supreme logic didn't hit me until after I had already ranted about an entire country of backward thinkers (the exact words were less precise and a bit more cutting. I was in a state.) People pull out in front of cement trucks, speeding taxi buses and motorcycles carrying small children all the time. It's the way things work. Otherwise you would be sitting on the side of the road waiting forever, just hoping for a free space and a safe moment like an idjit.
But I do realize now that most of my woes stem from (still) trying to impose my order of thinking on people who think another way. If only I could understand, and even more so, accept, the logic of Wonderland, I would be in a much better space.
After months of storing up old glass mayonnaise bottles and tins of canned tomatoes, I finally asked Mama Vero to get rid of the garbage. She had a solid look of confusion on her face and I realized I needed to define "garbage." While I fully support recycling and reusing, I just couldn't think of a way to use 50 glass mayonnaise jars and 75 small tins of tomato paste. Artist though I might at times be, I was out of ideas. Yes, these are garbage in my world.
I know that many in Kinshasa reuse the glass bottles to fill with any variety of liquids from gasoline to cooking oil. We've designed recycling centers at the school to consist of large drums to hold glass, tin and paper garbage. The idea behind this was that any campus workers who found a need for the glass and tin could then help themselves to the barrels. A multi-service center. I can get rid of my glass and people who need can benefit from reusing old (and free) containers. A perfect system which does not necessitate me storing months and months of reusables in my kitchen. Sort of.
Other definitions of garbage include food that has gone bad (no, the refrigerator doesn't keep it good forever) and food that is still good (I know we haven't eaten all the bread in two days but we want to eat it, it's not bad yet.) And items that appear healthy ( I don't want these things, in this bag here, that came from the hospital-the plastic and other items that could keep germs) but maybe they aren't really (no, really, even though you washed them, I don't want the containers that came from the hospital where there are germs and other bacteria we can't see lurking in the small cracks and crevices that just can't get clean.) That was a week long affair - trying to explain that one. And maybe I am a bit paranoid, but if you have spent any time in a Kinshasa hospital, you would probably agree old plastic containers should just go in the garbage.
These are just a few examples of things that need to be redefined or rethought in order to obtain peaceful synchronicity. It always seems to be the weird balance of people who think for themselves at the precise moment when you don't want them to, and yet, when it seems a clear moment of logical thinking is in order, there's nothing. I strive to find the balance and am continually missing it.
The results are terrifying. I become enraged, disgusted, disappointed, discouraged and disoriented. It's not just Congolese. I think there is something in the air that affects us all. I ask the sub to have kids complete pages 2 & 3 and she replies, "No problem I'll do my best to make sure they complete pgs. 1-5." Wayside Stories at it's best.
I am mystified. It transcends language, country of origin and educational experience. It's the air we breathe and it requires us to accept the boundaries of Wonderland as our new frontier. Alice seems to have fun and gets only mildly agitated in her new world, but she is a visitor and the story doesn't last long enough for us to see how truly crazy she becomes. I have tried shirking my link to logic and reason, crossing over to the land of no expectations and complete surprises. It's challenging.
I've developed a few strategies for this. One is to make observations rather than emotional comments. "Look, there's a taxi who has decided to stop in the middle of the road and look for passengers. We are waiting behind him (for 20 minutes, maybe we should sing along to this great song on the radio, kids.)
Other strategies include making lists, repeating, repeating and maybe even try repeating if that doesn't work. Pictures and explanations are mildly helpful. I have noticed that lengthy explanations only serve to muddy up the real issue. I am pretty terrible at making things black and white, but in Alice's world, gray is only yellow and so it doesn't help at all.
It leaves me just plain crabby. I end up thinking things like, "No, I don't want to practice English with you just because you think it will be fun and expect me to try and understand all the mangled words you say. I have no idea what you are talking about. No, I don't want my children to reveal all of their personal information to a complete stranger just because we both happen to be waiting in the same line..." Days like these I envy the Chesire Cat....just a big smile....ability to vanish.....no need to form any sort of logic. I aspire to that.
