Playing in the dark - thank God the power finally went out - July 24, 2012

I know it sounds odd but I thank God the power finally went out on Monday night. It was going to be a usual night like any other, after prayers and dinner, I watch some TV with the girls in their verandah-esque open-to-the-outside TV/sitting room. I usually watch for a half-hour or so then it’s time for me to tuck myself in, 'je me couche'.

Monday night was different and how I enjoyed it! Sometimes after prayers and dinner I end up dancing with a few girls, even if I dance well they laugh. Sometimes they laugh because I catch on so quickly and it’s a surprise to them. My favourite experience has been dancing with them to “Sh’took my money”, which I think is ‘she took my money’, it’s a great and fun African song in English so for me it’s easy to understand and everyone else gets it as well; it’s a very popular song, I’m sure I’ve heard it everywhere I’ve gone. There are even dance moves and gestures for the song and everyone sings along. “Sh’took my money, sh’took my money, sh’took my money, and I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.” (search on the web).

So Monday night I plopped myself on the couch as invited, “Marie-Lauren, assiez-toi,” but we were watching music videos and some people were already up dancing, then I was invited to dance also, they know that I can and I never refuse an opportunity for dance or to learn a new move. So now a bunch of us are dancing.

And then the five Austrian girls that are also volunteering for the summer and who arrived on Sunday night pass by on their way to bed, they are encouraged to come dance, because now it’s a dance party, not your usual TV-watching night. When everyone is watching tv, you can sometimes pass by, say ‘bon soir’ and be on your way. Monday night was different, there was no way you could refuse the energy that was in the air, it was infectious.

Then, all of a sudden, in the middle of everyone singing along to the video and dancing, the power goes out, and everything goes dark. And not just for a minute, because here in Kinshasa, in Gombe, the power is always on, if it goes it’s for a few seconds, or sometimes it flickers, but in the five weeks I’ve been here the power hadn’t gone out for any length of time. As in most big cities that consume a lot, conservation is a concept that is not practiced as much as it is preached. Even though the power could go out at any minute, people have air-conditioners and use electricity, there is work to be, done business goes on and here there is bread to bake. It wasn’t until the big power outage of summer 2005 in eastern parts of Canada and the United States that Canadians started to take electricity consumption and conservation seriously and were at first asked to use power more judiciously and then charged time-of-day rates to encourage conservation.

In the dark, there were shouts and hollers of ‘awws’ and ‘ooohhhas’ s if we were asking some
grand poo-bah to ‘turn the lights back on please, we were having such a good time’. The fun didn’t stop there. With cell-phones as flashlights, the girls guide each other, taking great care with the five new girls, down the stairs to the courtyard. It takes me a moment to join, I watch for a bit, take pictures from upstairs, it’s really fun upstairs because the flash from my camera is the only light in a sea of darkness. Then I hear my name and they are calling me to come down.

We begin with a game much like “duck, duck, goose” but the words are different and it’s a song everyone sings while they clap their hands rhythmically to the music. It’s enchanting and I wish I had recorded it because I can’t remember it now. It was really great to see the girls having so much fun without the amenity of electricity. I saw their leadership skills in action as one by one, they each took turns choralling everyone, instructing the game and leading us on an adventure in the dark. Katey, a young-ish girl who smiles lots and seems to me to be shy most of the time begins the song for the game. It is played, simply, it is played and we the outsiders, the volunteers, look on and participate. When a scarf is dropped behind you, you leave your seat on the ground and run around the circle of seated girls and women trying to catch the person who dropped the scarf to the music that is being sung while hands slap laps in an ever-increasing pitch and frequency. Once you make it back to a seat after you have dropped the scarf and run away from the person chasing you, the music begins afresh, slow at first then faster until the next person makes it safely to a seat before they are caught. Katey continues to lead the song throughout this game.

We then play a child’s game like “London bridge is falling down” but faster, in French, and with 30-odd women and girls the tunnel we create with outstretched arms seems very long. I hear a few of the words in French and my partner Matilde sings it clearly for me so I can sing it. We wind our way to the front of the building from the courtyard with that game. Then when it is finished because our arms are tired and no one wants to run through the tunnel anymore because we are not all little children, though there are little ones-'les petites', and our bodies can take only so much running while squatting, we race to the courtyard at the back and start a new game.

Sister Rosalie has come out with a light and a word of caution. She only speaks in French, but like everyone here she gestures so you don’t miss what she is saying even if you don’t understand the words. Sister Rosalie is in charge of the girls in the dormitory, that is her work. She reminds us that it is late, by now 9:30pm, and we have neighbours in the apartment building next door who
are not playing games in the dark and might like the opportunity to sleep quietly. Sister Rosalie is encouraging and walks around us with the light balanced on her head. It’s a thing here and everyone can and does it, sits, stands or walks balancing something on their head.

The last game is “le lyon appelles” and it is also played in a large circle. My friend Bijou the petite leads this game. Bijou is still recovering from the emergency surgery for appendicitis, it has only been three weeks or so, so she plays the games cautiously. I notice she plays the first game without the running, instead she does a slow but steady crouch. She directs the tug of war game because we wrapped arms around torsos to make a human chain and that would not be good for
people with abdominal surgeries. Bijou has a raspy voice, she is very intelligent and well-travelled, speaks English and has a fiancé Salvatore. Bijou’s voice is constant through the game. This one is the most fun, it is more thinking than running, and one has to concentrate. I’m out early so I join the others in the middle of the circle while the game continues. I attempt to balance the light on my head but only for a few minutes because it is straining, different and
new.

I’ve handedmy camera to Sonya who braided my hair a while back and she has taken pictures throughout. This is the kind of fun I’ve been hoping for but didn’t want to impose. The girls here work hard during the day and for most of them the only time they get to chill and relax is at night when the work is done and they can watch tv. So often, I’ve wanted to lead a game or a song and say something in French that is like, “Hey gals, let’s dance or sing or something!” but that would be me imposing my wants and desires and I’m here for them to learn from, listen to and encourage them. For me, this was another dream come true.

Sister Rosalie comes out when we finish the game to send us all to bed. It is now very late and we are all tired from the games, but we’ve had a good time and enjoyed the darkness and the moments it lends us. I stay up to chat with Matilde for a while about her fiancé and mine, and her upcoming engagement party. Matilde lets me practice my French and corrects and adjusts as needed. I enjoy hearing about the girls’ dreams and desires for the future, very uplifting for me.

Shall I wish for the lights to go out again?

Parlez en francaise en Congo - Am I nervous? Bien sur! - June 26, 2012

I’ll be in Kinshasa by dinner time. I’m looking forward to a vastly different experience from my everyday in Toronto, Canada and my vacation week in Paris, France. I’ve heard about the Congolese people from new friends on Facebook (thanks Sabrina and Zaya) and I saw beautiful, adorned women in the lineup at the airport to go to Congo. Women in long dresses with sequins and jewels adorned, bright colours like fuscia and black, bright pink and aubergine, red and silver. Heads wrapped in matching or complementary scarves. Some with babies wrapped around their backs. All dressed up and made up. Wow! I cannot match them in my yoga pants, tired face and head wrapped for travel in non-matching scarf. But I hope to match them if I can by borrowing a little Congo culture when I’m there for 11 weeks.

A good friend asked me if I was nervous, if I had butterflies. I said ‘no, not really’. But it caused me to think about it. I was okay before being in Paris, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, nearly everyone I encountered spoke a little English; it’s like everyone in customer service, travel and hospitality was bilingual. I won’t exactly be a tourist in Congo, so I know it will be different. My experience in France will not compare and I don’t expect it to. I am most nervous about ‘parlez en Francaise toujours’. At the airport, I needed people to repeat questions and directions, and I barely understood the spoken French. I can read it but listening and hearing is different.

Am I nervous? Do I have butterflies? Yes, I do. Mostly because I will be in a foreign environment but mostly because of the challenge I have hoisted upon myself to ‘get bilingual’. My boss asked me if I had a plan to learn French. I thought it was obvious. Immersion! I have always considered
immersion to be my best plan for learning and practicing French. But I also recognize I actually do need more study, so I’ve got my grammar book and my French-English dictionary and I will need to practice reading, writing and speaking. Practice is something I will get in Congo, what I am most happy about being in Congo is that I will have little choice but to ‘parlez en Francais’.

I know it will feel odd at first, but the years of study and the conversations with friends, listening and watching Quebecois television will become useful somehow. Talk about getting out of your comfort zone. I’m putting myself out there and taxing my limits to become a better, stronger
person through this experience. I can only do this by the grace of God and with the support and love of family and friends and through the fellowship of the Filles de Marie Auxiliatrice (Daughters of Mary, help of Christians), Salesian Sisters.

I hope the next blog will be bilingual. J’espere ca la prochaine blog sera bilingue.