How these Sisters are foster and adoptive mothers, good ones at that - August 29, 2012

I had lunch with the Salesian Sisters at the Provincial House on a Wednesday. It was very nice. I got the chance to listen to them share stories about their work, their lives. It is always enlightening for me. I have heard from some of the girls how they regard the Sisters, especially the one or ones they are closest to as family. Those girls who don’t have parents, neither Mom or Dad or no Mom, usually end up in the care of the Sisters and many stay until they can be on their own.

 

I recall talking to Mathilde about it when she told me about her pending engagement party. I asked if she was inviting or expecting family to come to the ‘presentation’ but she told me that Sister Hildegard is her family and that is who she is expecting. Mathilde has neither mother nor father. I have been blessed to see the girls who have grown up with someone stable in their lives and are now ready to leave the nest and be full-grown, contributing members of society. I have also seen the little ones who struggle to find that someone.

 

At lunch that day, Sr. Josephine talked about Rebekka. Rebekka is a small child about two years old, round face, cherubic cheeks, bright eyes with pools of black, a generous smile, she is round, bubbly and a little chubby. I always saw Rebekka when Sr. Josephine came from Sanga Mamba to Café Mozart for supplies or to visit. Every time Sr. Josephine was there, so was Rebekka. All the girls loved her, she is such a sweet and alluring child. Shy at first, but friendly. It took her a while to acclimate to the Austrians, she cried at first because she hadn’t seen white people before, but then she got used to them. I hadn’t heard her story before, but at lunch that day Sr. Josephine shared her story.

 

Rebekka came to the Sisters at Sanga Mamba, starving and malnourished, beaten and abused a year ago. A relative dropped her off one day. She was a skinny thing then and looked the part of the starving child and didn’t say a word, she was very young, but either extremely shy or too traumatized to say anything. Sr. Josephine talked to the Sisters at the table and I sat right next to her so I heard her story first-hand, though in French. At this point, I had spent 10 weeks in Kinshasa so my comprehension was very good. I heard words I’m familiar with working in child welfare:  abuse, maltreated, traumatized. Unmistakeable even in French.

 

Sr. Josephine explained to us as she had to the relative that they don’t normally take in such young children. Children come to them to attend school and live there as ‘internes’ when they are old enough for school five years old or thereabouts. Rebekka was very young. Sr. Josephine was reluctant to take her in at that young age but couldn’t refuse, the child was young yes but needed someone to take care of her and raise her. How could Sr. Josephine say no to that? So she took her in and became her adopted mother.

 

Sr. Josephine was at the Provincial House in Lubumbashi for a week, and told us that she talks to Rebekka on the telephone every day while she is away and that Rebekka calls her ‘mama’. She is surprised now that the child is talking so much and tells us about it because when she first came to Sr. Josephine she didn’t talk at all, not one word. But after time with Sr. Josephine, Rebekka began feeling comfortable, safe and loved. The last time I saw her before I left Kinshasa, she even sang for me ‘bon anniversaire’. What a sweet child! It is always hard to imagine that someone would abuse such a beautiful, innocent, little child, but they do and it can’t be explained or understood. I am grateful and happy that in the DRC the Salesian Sisters are there for these girls, especially the littlest ones. They are sisters to some and mothers to others.

“A-eh Marie-Lauren!” and how that greeting started and evolved – August 29, 2012

Just by being here you have an impact. But you never know what that impact is or how it feels, you just know you are here to be with people, to show them you care, to help, to lend your skills, to do whatever it is that you can do. I didn’t realize my impact or influence on the girls until the night of Bijou’s wedding.

It all started with Katey. I don’t know why, I don’t think it was because I am Canadian, I don’t think anyone here knows the universal Canadian ‘eh!’ and I am 99% sure I didn’t use it here because I was speaking French instead of English, but you never know when it is ingrained as it is. It may also be that is how Katey talks. One morning, it began very musical and rhythmic “A-eh
Marie-Lauren!” and I replied with the same melody “A-eh Ka-tey!” and so it went. Every morning and then every time we saw each other, “A-eh (name)!” It became like a greeting and salutation all in one, it reassured the other that everything was all right, spirits were good, one’s health and happiness was intact enough to say ‘hi-howareyou-Imfine” all in one word.

Even if Katey was in serious conversation with someone or with others or if she was busy working, if she saw me she gave me her great big smile with all white teeth against her rich ebony skin and that familiar greeting. I knew that everything was okay with her, I replied signalling all was well with me. Even if I wasn’t feeling right, slightly out of sorts, lonely or misunderstood, hearing that greeting from Katey lifted my spirits and reminded me that
everything was alright in the world because I was with people I cared for who cared for me.

It started almost right away, week one for sure if not day one. It was an unusual way for me to remember her name and for her mine, but it worked. It spread to the other girls as well. They challenged me to remember their names as well. I did. I had to write down over 60 names on a tiny piece of paper and after two weeks I had them all. And then many weeks after, when there were new girls at the school beginning their training and formation, they heard the greeting and joined in. They were new to me and I hadn’t room in my head for more names so I replied with just an “A-eh!” One of the girls challenged me, she told me her name was Lucie and that she expected when she greeted me with “A-eh Marie-Lauren!” I would reply with “A-eh, Lu-cie!”

I was shocked, surprised and slightly embarrassed in a good way that the girls all knew this greeting at the wedding. I looked good, dressed in a short pink-striped dress that I bought with Matilde at the Grand Marche, I did my hair and makeup and my nails. I was quite a sight. Even Sr. Hildegard commented on the length of my skirt. They are such real people sometimes I forget they are nuns. I am looking good and I am just sauntering to my room to freshen up after dinner and before the dancing begins. I was seated early so I didn’t get to see all the girls before dinner, but I have to pass them on my way out. I was totally caught off guard when to my surprise instead of a hi or hello, ‘salut’ or ‘bon soir’, there is a chorus of “A-eh Marie-Lauren!”

Every girl there that I knew gave me this greeting, and if they were slow to join in the chorus, they added their greetings like an echoing wave. Oh my! It was fantastic. Way to make a girl feel special! I’m not normally shy, but when you are centred out like that it can be a bit overwhelming. It may have been my imagination or not, but I’m sure everyone heard that greeting cause I think a chorus of 46 or so girls can be pretty loud. I didn’t even look back as I left to see if heads turned, I imagine they did. (Pictured here is me with Terese).

Those girls were so nice to give me that attention. I had tried over the 10 weeks I was at Café Mozart to give them mine. I see that they returned the favour. Much appreciated.

La musique du Congo, the music of Congo--only a sample, just a taste – July 31, 2012

I have experienced some of the music of Congo and of Africa but only a little. J’ai ecoute la musique du Congo et d’Afrique mais un peu seul. As they say here, ‘petite à petite’. I’ve been invited to the night clubs but will wait a bit before I go out, it would be nice to go out with the friends I’ve made here and to see how the Congolese socialize and dance.

In the meantime, I’ve been to the Fikin – amusement park for children – and watched and listened to a couple concerts with live music. I’ve been singing with the girls here a little, learning some music and teaching some. Little by little, I’m experiencing Congo.

I went to the ‘Fikin’ with the Austrian girls. The sons of a friend of Sister Hildegard invited the girls out and there was room so I got to go along also. We managed to fit nine people in the SUV; there were the five Austrians, plus me, the two sons and one of them’s girlfriend. This was the closest the Austrians have gotten to the experience of transport in Kinshasa. We passed taxi vans filled with people on our way to the ‘Fikin’ and I explained, and they could see for themselves, that there were five or six rows of people in the van knee-to-knee and knee-to-back. The vans have five or six, more often six, wooden benches secured in the van for easily 24 people or 30 people. Transportation is cheap here though so 500FC or $0.50 is not too much to pay for convenience if not for spaciousness.

At the ‘Fikin’, we watched two small concerts. At the first concert people were seated and more relaxed and the host invited children up on stage to dance. I joined with a chair dance when the DJ played ‘Chop my money’ and all the littles danced on stage and we all danced in our seats. We remarked that we could easily imagine the ‘petites’ at Café Mozart on the same stage. (I was glad for the break to be out on my one day off but I was wistful thinking about the girls being able to enjoy the ‘Fikin’ also). At the second concert everyone was standing and moving to the music, it was gospel music so more dynamic and exuberant. Even though I don’t understand the words the music is beautiful.

But the most fun was learning a song from the girls on Monday night. We sung together last week sometime and heard the girls sing “Lord, I lift your name on high” in English, French and Lingala and we all wanted to learn the song in Lingala especially. After dinner yesterday, some of us gathered in the courtyard and sang a little and talked a little. The lights flickered and went out. Of course, the chorus of ‘oohhs’ ensued plus a few ‘oh nos’, but for the most part we just chilled and enjoyed the moments in the dark. My eyes got used to the darkness pretty quickly because the moon was almost full and thus very bright so it wasn’t really that dark. “What do you do when the lights go out?” one of the Austrian girls asked. I don’t have a good answer for that but I’d rather chill and hang out with people than stay in my room in the dark, because the only thing I can do there is sleep. We just chilled and hung out, sang a bit, talked a bit. The lights flickered on and then off again.

People kept asking me when I would be singing. I love singing but this was a command performace that I hadn’t prepared for. Noella told everyone that day that I would serenade them with Alicia Keys’ “No one” at night. My French is not that bad but I’m pretty sure Noella and I talked about ‘on va chanter’, as in ‘we’ will sing. Earlier that day for the English class, Noella and I translated “No one” together. In the moonlight under the Kinshasa night sky, I sang one line at a time and Noella gave the meaning in French.

Sometimes I forget that she is a teenager. It wasn’t until someone made fun of how she delivered the chorus in French that I remembered she is only seventeen. The chorus is “no one, no one, no one-un-un-unnh” in English; Noella spoke slowly and without much emotion, ‘Personne. Personne. Personne.’ rather matter-of-factly. These are words she is saying, not singing, and it was incredibly funny how dead-pan was her delivery. When someone laughed a little and remarked how flat Noella gave the ‘personne’ part, she got mightily offended and feigned annoyance. It was hilarious, I couldn’t help the situation at all because I continued to laugh, but I would bury my head in my lap so it wouldn’t seem that I was laughing at her. In her broken English, which must sound a lot like my French, she says “You make fun of me! I not sing for you no more.” And so it went. It was so amusing, we had to apologize and encourage her to continue with platitudes and graciousness. Teenage girls are so much fun!

Noella also led our learning of the gospel song, “Lord, I lift your name on high” in English, French and Lingala. A mountain of hilarity again with the teenaged antics. But we sang it in three languages. It was great to learn the French and Lingala with the help of Matilde, Vanessa, Crystal and also Lumiere who gave us the words and chords. I hope to come away with more music, language and culture and I hope to be able to give back more than I receive.