food that falls from the sky... and other things that just make sense

I grew up surrounded by apple trees in the fall and the smell of freshly cut grass in the spring. Rain in the air signaled blossoms and growth. It brought hope for warmer weather and renewal of energy. Moving to a new country means adapting to new weather patterns and the feelings they evoke. While I have never missed the winter, autumn and spring are subtle periods of transition that ease my spirit into a new way of perceiving the world. 

Here in Kinshasa, rain is not always gentle. Storms are frequent and fierce. My first storm in Kinshasa was also my first day driving on unpredictable and busy night roads. I remember an enormous feeling of reluctance to go out. I had not yet become accustomed to the patterns of weather that would allow me to determine the implications of being caught out in the rain. As the palm trees swayed and the bamboo creaked, I had visions of tropical hurricanes and deserted islands.

I've since come to delight in the intensity of a Congo thunderstorm. I can join the locals in peering at a dark impending sky and shake my head. "No, it's not going to rain today." And I can sense the subtle changes that bring a sure need to carry an umbrella.

I have also come to realize and respect the power of the rain. One bewildering image I hold onto comes from a trip I was taking out to the village. It had begun to rain on our way and suddenly the streets were clear as people huddled under storefront overhangs and gathered along sidewalks as if waiting for a parade.  I found it comical to see the masses stopping their travels and postponing their schedules to simply wait out the rain.

This rain has been falling here for years, I thought. Haven't they developed a system for coping, for forging ahead and managing this small inconvenience? At the time I'd yet to see the damage brought by erosion or the roads that developed lake sized holes after only minutes of being exposed to water plunging from the sky.

This fourth year has found me waiting out the rain, understanding it doesn't last in its intensity. Patience is the surest tool of managing my safety and the most sound method for arriving dry and intact.

There are other facets of Congolese life that I've come to understand and, if not wholly embrace, at least I feel a sense of purpose behind these actions. This past week we've witnessed a deluge of caterpillars that appear to be a plague sent from heaven itself. They've arrived in such numbers the school kids are screaming and squirming as the little worms wriggle and fall onto backpacks and shoulders. They delight in tormenting each other with the small creatures we find covering our walks, walls and ceilings.

This influx of creatures has led many to become inspective, peering closely to see how they move, how they eat and how they form cocoons. A life science dream happening right in front of us. Many students ran to get containers and offered leaves and mangoes and small piles of grass to their new friends.

But it is not just the students who are profiting  from this event. Many of the adults can also be found outside, gathering mounds of caterpillars into glass and plastic jars or even homemade paper containers. Apparently the caterpillars make a tasty meal.

I admit to spending an evening in a hot car trying to determine if the sweat rolling down the inside of my shirt was truly perspiration or overzealous caterpillars exploring the dark and cozy underfolds of my clothing. 

Though I do not partake of this delicacy myself, it strikes me with a simple beauty and ingenious. Food falling from the sky. It makes perfect sense to grab a quick and nutritious snack while comfortably waiting out the rain under a storefront overhang.

Un-perpetuating the myth

Today was a perfectly great example of an ordinary day. One of my students invited me to his birthday party, so we all went, Mohamed, Nabih and I and one other teacher from school. There is a very sweet little place not far from campus that is built for children’s entertainment. During our day, I had time to reflect.

Yesterday during our shopping trip I noticed a bowl of beetles laying amongst the cabbage and corn for sale (beetles is the nice word, I believe.) Caterpillars are also a delicacy here and they are sold from colorful plastic bowls, often with bread. During one of our writing assignments, which coincided with a read aloud of City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau, I asked students to describe their family’s staple foods and the ones they would miss the most. Caterpillars made it onto one list. I am told it might be similar to eating Cheetos- a light, crunchy snack. I have absolutely no first hand knowledge on this however. I’ve wanted to catch a photo of this unique finger food and almost shot one of the beetles, moving en masse in their confined quarters. But I really had to question the motive behind my desire. Mostly I saw it as something different and, especially to a veggie like me, so utterly foreign.

During our International Schools Conference, I had the chance to witness many perspectives of Africa and about teaching in Africa as well as presenting Africa. I am acutely aware of the level of thinking that suggests some of us may be perpetuating a stereotype by presenting only the strange and pitiable. This view suggests that we are only talking about war and hunger and famine (and caterpillars for breakfast) and don’t give enough attention to the positive aspects of Africa.

As with all perspectives, it is difficult for me to take sides. I can only be aware. So I am left to question things like my desire to shoot a photo of an odd and delightful street snack. And ultimately, not to do it. On the other hand, I did update my blog with several links relating to the treacherous past of Congo, the current war and hopefully, a few positive projects worthy of note. I added these links, not to perpetuate, but to draw attention. It came on the heels of a conversation with a good friend- thanks K- that sometimes our first step is simply awareness. While I am searching for something more substantial to fill my soul here in DRC, I can at least begin with that.

Finally, to round things out completely, I am here to write about a completely ordinary day at a child’s birthday party. There were several ‘bounce houses’- those blow up affairs where children must remove their shoes in order to jump themselves into oblivion. There was a large slide in the same manner and several trampolines. Another blow up contraption sectioned off an area for soccer. Mohamed joined in a rather lively game and actually held his own. Close by, a net was set up for volleyball. There was a restaurant as well as a snack bar selling fries and burgers and soda (and popcorn, always popcorn.)

The biggest attraction, however, was a ‘go-kart’ area. The karts were really large bikes with three or four large, sturdy wheels. They moved by pedal power and had a variety of seats. Some allowed for passengers, some were close to the ground but all were reminiscent of buggies built for crossing desert dunes. Children and adults rode around the paved track showing off their (very African- or NYC-ish, whichever you prefer) driving skills. Like a mini Kinshasa, there were traffic jams, fender benders, and traffic directors ready to help with a hefty push. Young boys delighted in taking the turns fast and controlling the skid with a hand brake. Many slightly more cautious drivers pedaled younger brothers and sisters around. Even some brave moms dared the roads in an effort to provide a quick (or slow and halting as the case often was) turn around the track. There appeared to be no time limit on the ride and children drove laps until stopped by sheer exhaustion.

There was a second area with smaller bikes and trikes for children like Nabih. He didn’t quite have the strength to make one go on his own but with some strategic assistance he managed to get around the track several times. It was a hot, sunny day full of simple, clean fun. We discussed the few opportunities for entertainment in Kinshasa, and tried to brainstorm some possibilities (water park, for one.) Personally, I think a roller rink holds potential. Most of the places in existence are picnic areas with a nice view, a cool breeze but not much in the way of actual entertainment. It is another juxtaposition- this calm and tranquil life leads to a patient people, satisfied with small things. It is a nice way to be. Of course, its also a bit boring and there is very little stimulation, educational or otherwise, for children and families. I am reminded of Florida, with its vast array of museums, libraries, and cultural venues aimed at enriching family life. We could use a bit of that here.

But today, we found a small pocket in Kinshasa to enjoy good food, conversation and small thrills. (Plus, I have been given the gift of an Indian sari- perhaps my wardrobe will be changing. I have never worn a sari before and while they are certainly elegant, I am not and so assumed we two did not mix. But! ever open to new things, I will try. )