Postcards From The Edge: DRCongo
Tuesday October 28, 2008
From the village, for the village.
I can’t say I was too impressed by the gecko in my mosquito net this morning. The unwanted uninvited roommate crawled across my upper lip before I woke up; I initially thought my bum-fluff facial hair had transformed overnight into a long and slimy moustache.
After a cold shower with cockroaches for company, I left with the team from our compound to visit the rural Nzundu sector of Bas Congo, situated just outside the capital of Kinshasa.
My rude awakening was not sufficient preparation for our long trek following the breakdown of our vans... again! However, our group expanded as we were joined on our 5km walk by local villagers, fascinated, as ever, by us, our cameras, weird clothing, my super-peculiar eye-brow piercing and so-called "caramalised" skin colour. It was all friendly curiosity.
Onto the fields and we were given demonstrations in the Congolese art of cow-ploughing and crop-growing. The process was terribly slow, primitive and seemingly dangerous as at moments the animals looked temperamental and pulled away unpredictably. I didn't clap and applaud when the cows did their job, it seemed too patronising, but I stood, watched and smiled in appreciation of the mass amount of hard work that goes into providing food for the Nzundu people.
The local women planted seeds one-by-one into the ground, straining, sweating, smiling and waving. Fourty-four-year-old Bianu stated her five children go to school whilst she works in the fields. When I questioned her position as a struggling crop-grower, she said: "All my money goes to my kids and their education. I would not be able to afford it without this PDI (Integrated Development Programme)."
What threw me was her response to my next inquiry, as I asked about the aspirations of her children:
"They will get their education, and get more money. Then they will return to the farm and work with us, with the family and for the village."
Such a notion was incomprehensive to me. F**k that I thought. I couldn't understand the point of striving for my degree only to go back to a struggling farm. Superman had the right idea...
Then a simple discussion knocked my ignorance astray. As my colleague Sam Faulds interviewed 23-year-old Thierry, an encapsulation of Congo said: "I’ve worked on this farm for 18 years. I grow beans, I live in the village and work for my family. I do not complain. I work to improve their situation..."
It is such the Western mentality to expand, grow, leave the nest and fulfil otherworldly dreams. I was blind when I spoke to Bianu, but my greatest respects go to anyone whose dream it is to stay and plant a better life for the loved ones unable to fly.
Leaving the village, our driver Bosco blared out some Congolese music as herds of people hugged us and danced around our van. They welcomed us, and embraced us despite major indifferences and our naivety of their situation.
My friend Anita Morais commented as we drove away: "Why do we take things for granted? If people in Congo are so happy with so little, then why are we so discontent?"
Good question...
This article can be sourced here
No comments:
Post a Comment