Sunday, December 10, 2006

Long Silence

It's been a long time since I posted anything on this blog. I've been busy and sick. The men recently bought a minibus which has started operating. They had their hearts set on getting a large truck so that they could transport people's produce to markets outside of Meheba, but they didn't have nearly enough money to buy such a truck. After some serious brainstorming, they decided to operate a minibus for the next five months. It should produce enough money that by April they will be able to sell it and buy the truck they want.
While I was in Solwezi withdrawing money for them to buy the minibus I found out that I had malaria. I've never had malaria before. Apparently it was a mild case. It wasn't really so bad. I was tired and achy in the morning and sweat more than I have ever sweat in my life at night. I've got a cold right now, which is not as serious but more annoying. When I had malaria I also had some open oozing sores on my chin and neck. When I saw the pharmacist about it, he said he thought it was probably herpes. I will be angry if I have herpes. I've never had herpes before and I have definitely not been engaged in any kind of activity that would expose me to herpes. It seems like every time that I leave Africa I get sick. I'm not sure if it's a coincidence or if there's a reason for the pattern. Maybe it's similar to how one gets sick at the end of a stressful semester in college. You push yourself hard and your body complies and then reacts violently when it is safe to do so.
I guess it's a safe time to get sick. There's not much left for me to do here. Yesterday was the last workshop with the women. Only four of the ten came because it was food distribution day, which everyone had forgotten the day before when I asked if they would be able to come at three in the afternoon. In was anti-climactic. I talked with them a bit about what I expected of them when I left and what they could expect of me. This is very important. When aid and development workers leave, all kinds of promises they made seem to emerge. "So-and-so promised me a camera." "He promised me he would help get me a scholarship to university." "She promised to buy me a computer." It can get crazy. Even when you think you are super clear, there's always someone who tells the people come after you that there was something you promised them. The best you can do is to do your best to be clear with everyone you worked with and friends you had about exactly what you will and will not do. It never seems to be enough. There's always that person you told, "I will try to research scholarship opportunities for you if I have time," which ultimately turns into a promise.
I'll be leaving in two days. Tomorrow the participants are throwing a huge graduation/going-away party in Zone F. Eighty people are invited, but I swear the amount of food they are buying is enough to feed 150 people. I'm planning on some serious food coma. I saw the invitations yesterday, and they are planning on the party going from ten in the morning to five in the afternoon. I have no idea what we are going to do for seven full hours. There will be speeches, handing out of some sweet certificates I made for them (certificates are a must here), food, and music and dancing. A week ago when I mentioned the party one of the women mentioned something about "needing to see how I move on the dance floor." But I can't imagine we will be dancing for four or five hours. Maybe I should bring a couple jugs of water just in case.
The next day I will be leaving. Everyone has been asking when I will return. I don't know. I tell them that I would like to return next year, but I'm not sure if it'll be possible. It's hard for me to imagine that I will never be back. I envision coming back at some point - maybe not until 2008, but at some time in the future. But now they are talking about repatriation of the Congolese starting in 2007 and possibly closing 2008. They seem to just be rumors at this point. It's hard to say how serious to take them. But it's possible. It is, after all, a refugee settlement. Sometimes I forget that.
Meheba has been around for so long. When I look around I see communities. The communities are much more diverse than any other you would find in a rural African setting, but they are communities nonetheless. It's hard to imagine these people all moving away to different parts of different communities - scattering all over Congo, Angola, and Burundi. I try to imagine the places they will be going, how they will get there, how they will live there; but I can't. I only see them in Meheba. But they don't. They aspire to return home.
In the interviews I have conducted with some of the participants, I ask them where they consider their home - Zambia or their country of origin. I expected that some of them would say Zambia - especially the ones who have lived here since they were children. But every single one has said that they consider their country of origin (for most, Congo) their home. They do not feel welcome here. They long to go to a country where they have the same rights as everyone else - where they are not treated like animals (a metaphor they often use to explain how Zambia treats them) and they can move about freely without fear of being imprisoned. But Congo is not safe enough to return to yet.
My translator received news recently that his cousin was shot when he was fleeing from a group of thieves who stopped him along the road. He had been carrying a backpack on his bicycle and they stopped him to take it. They resolved to kill him, so he ran and was shot in the leg. He escaped, but will have to have his leg amputated.
Few people in Congo farm. They prefer business and it is dangerous to work out in the bush when there are so many rebels and bandits. There are no jobs. People have to start businesses. If you want to survive you have to start some kind of business. Most businesses require transporting valuable goods from one place to another - making a person a target for those bandits and rebels out in the bush. Security has not been established outside cities, so you are constantly putting yourself in danger just trying to make ends meet to feed your family. It's a tough choice to make. In one place their movement is restricted by government, in the other by the threat of banditry. What would you choose?
I told the participants to let me know what their addresses are when they move. I want to keep in touch with them and find out what their lives are like wherever they end up, and if what they learned here in Meheba with PACE has helped them to improve their communities there.

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