The Congo visa story does not have a happy ending. It has been a difficult week of ups and downs, hopes built and squashed, possibilities presented and retracted. In the end, I just couldn't make it happen. The demands were too convoluted and too expensive to meet.
While it is not a personal thing, (my own search for a visa included numerous tales of others jumping through hoops and standing on heads only to be denied at the end, despite all their acrobatics and money and effort ) it still feels personal. It is a reminder that I am - yet again- an "other." I do not belong and have no connection to claim. This Congo that inspires an intense longing and desire to fill my senses with her air, her sounds, her energy. She has rejected me.
I am left searching for the next step. Luckily, there are quite a few things to be done. Among them- start learning Bambara. It will be helpful to have some familiarity with the language before we arrive. July will be here in no time.
-And while I am too tired to try and make a smooth transition, this story somehow feels connected to me and has been popping up in my on-line browsing, inbox and social media. An overwhelming sense of powerlessness fueling so many human interactions these days.
