31.7.16

call of kinshasa

My artist friends (and mere acquaintances) from DRC have been calling me. They are looking for residencies and invitations for work in Abidjan, "meme just pour la fete de decembre." One of them finally clearly said he was looking to escape the turmoil of the elections.

Even as I still dream of (returning to) Kinshasa, they are looking to leave. The photos of recent events speak to their fear.

This photo is already being called "historic" Supporters of the opposition assemble
Or maybe it is this photo, which I find incredibly shocking. Kinshasa is not the US (or Paris, despite the delusions of Bandal) and calling out your president like this just doesn't happen. Or, at least it didn't.

People are tired, it's clear and elections or not, something is going to happen come November.
I have another friend who has fled under threat of arrest and I am sure he is watching the events from afar with un coeur brise. It can't be easy for him to be so physically distant from what  has been his passion for years.

So I am here, wondering how to get back, wondering if I really want to get back and thinking of all those who haven't a choice in leaving or staying.

My summer has been full of (work) and trying to determine my future path. Just when I think I have my goals set, someone shares this video with me and I know where I am going.



It is not just the saga of the street kids, but the emerging street families that presents the most concern. I'm praying on this one. While the country deals with elections and presidential glissement, there is a section of the population that will remain forgotten. Unfortunately it's the section that is generally thought of as the future.

9.7.16

birthday blessings

My neighbor Assita stopped by to invite me to her birthday party. She was beaming with youth and joy that was contagious, if not slightly bewildering to me, I don't really "get" adult birthday parties. The mom in me associates birthday parties with screaming kids, smeared cake patches and crooked birthday hats. All I can see are bowls of soggy chips and plates full of half eaten hors d'oeurves. I have a long relationship with the joys and stresses of celebrating the children in my life...but not so much experience outside of that,

Having recently read an article in tiny buddha about the power of yes in making friends  (which is apparently a thing- from Yes Man, the book and the movie, to Shonda Rimes) I decided I needed to accept. I imagined stopping by a bit after the party had gotten into full swing, saying hello and trying out a few conversations and then heading to the gym for a much needed work-out. I guess this approach is called "making an appearance" and doesn't do much to actually instill friendship or create new connections, but I was hoping it would keep the neighborly ties pleasant.

I also planned to bring along Ousmane, always helpful to have at least one friend on hand when walking into the unknown. We arrived about an hour after the time we were told to come, which turned out to be perfect as everyone else was just arriving as well. We were shown to a few tables on the porch, a quiet porch where everyone was waiting. My dreams of a quick appearance began to slowly evaporate.

We waited, chatting quietly. Others arrived, though not many. In total, we were about 9. Our hostess came out to move us to another table and then Assita herself, looking transformed in a beautiful blue dress and flowing locks, insisted we join her at the table of honor.

As she made somewhat ceremonial introductions, Ousmane whispered to me that he had seen two of the women on TV. I nodded, not having seen them myself but realizing that we were among colleagues and friends of Assita, a screen writer and actress, so all things were possible-and probable.

The party began in a formal way, with glasses being served and soft drink selections presented. We were offered a choice of entree- rice or attieke- and served a healthy plate of food. Everyone commenced with the business of eating and Assita continued to beam. She has this inner light that is truly beautiful.

The party was far more intimate and calm than I had imagined. I didn't have a word to say to anyone, but it was a quiet party. The two divas were keeping us entertained with commentary and stories. They were out going enough for all of us.  Two young men sat across from me but I hadn't figured out their relation. They were serious and quiet-did I mention that as the theme of the party? - but pleasant.

The food was tasty, well presented, well eaten. We all remarked on the healthy dose of hot pepper at one point or another, but it was good. Our hostess, (I can only remember her as the mother of one of Mohamed's friends) is known for her delicious plates and she takes orders a week or more in advance.

The sun was setting and my gym fantasies were all but extinguished. I wondered what would happen after the food- being in completely foreign territory, all notions of what a party is having been set aside completely. There is really no way I could have been prepared for what happened next.

Apparently the two young men were ministers of a sort. I would have guessed the older gentleman to my left as the minister of the group, so I was somewhat surprised when they began praying. "Blessings for our sister," one of them began in a beautifully deep and rhythmic voice.

He went on to say that birthday celebrations were not about birthdays, really, but a chance to give thanks to God for life, for all that life had brought so far, and all it might continue to bring. He mentioned that many people didn't reach their (next) birthday and so each one signaled that you hadn't completed God's plan, there was still work to be done. He made a lot of good sense and I liked where he was going. He talked (preached) a bit more  and then came to a point when he asked everyone to say prayers for Assita. The whole table began talking aloud, not in unison but individual verbal expressions of giving thanks and asking for blessings for her as well as themselves and their families.

Ousmane and I were conspicuously quiet- or would have been but most everyone's eyes were closed as they were filled with the power of sending positive intentions to Jesus. It was quite emotional. Despite our differences in belief systems, I couldn't help but be awed by the concept. I haven't actually experienced a room full of people directing their energies at one person so concretely before. I began to imagine the different forms this could take. I was moved by their devotion and sincerity.

I was reminded again of the African praise singers, or griots, only rather than singing about past accomplishments, they are there to manifest a positive future.

Later Ousmane told me about a similar experience in the Muslim community. If you have bought a new house, opened a new business or other momentous life event, your friends and family will gather to pray for you. Someone will read from the Qu'ran "jusque les gents plure"- until people are moved to tears. It sounds so beautiful, this gathering around and praying, or wishing well for another with all that you are, or sending positive energy in megablasts- however you want to frame it.

We made our exit soon after. My whole perspective of adult birthday parties, and birthday celebrations in general now altered.

Assita beaming with joy 

Us- with the guest of honor


Ousmane and the 2 divas



3.7.16

Mirror Image

As I rounded the corner, I saw an oasis of girls gliding down the lane. They were an African postcard image, 4 girls, different heights but all long and thin carrying a variety of bowls, bags and baskets on their heads. They were young and wearing dusty clothes with shiny smiles which only seemed to grow as the road between us shortened.

The sandy path we shared didn't allow for much more than 2 people to pass. As they shifted into single file, one of the girls looked up at me, her smile growing so wide and so bright I began to wonder if I had something on my face. I'd come from painting and had washed my hands well, but I hadn't even looked in the mirror. They greeted me with choruses of "Bonjour Tantie"  and just as I was imagining streaks of blue and orange running jagged across my chin, the little girl with a smile that made her eyes dance exploded into giggles. "Tu est jolie-deh," she said, clearly unable to keep her thoughts inside.

The group moved past quickly, talking and laughing among themselves. I didn't even get a chance to say I'd been thinking the same thing about them.