First Impressions Again

Journal entry from July Sixth, Day 4 in the Democratic Republic of the Congo-

Basankusu, Equateur Province


There are men singing, clapping and playing drums not far from my hotel room where I have been lounging, reading, and waiting for the sun to mercifully set. I could venture down there and endure the stares and calls of "Mundeli, Mundeli" (white person) but right now I am content to listen to the upbeat rhythm and continue lounging. It is an admittedly romantic African scene and seems far removed from the reality of life in Kinshasa where the smell of burning plastic and diesel fuel hit you immediately upon disembarking from the airplane and daylight reveals oceans of waste flowing into the rivers and canals of the city. For me, Kinshasa is only valuable as an International airport and a reminder of how fortunate I am to live where I do.

But outside the capital, away from the traffic and the pollution is where my Africa lies. Where despite the annoying glares and calls from children (and some adults), the presence of a white person is still a novelty. Where the food is plucked, dug up or caught on a daily basis. Where rain is revered and time is still referenced based on lunar stages.

This is not an entirely accurate description for even here, the thatch buildings are interspersed with concrete ones. There are squat toilets where one must flush by pouring water oneself in the same areas where wireless internet is available. You can always get a Coke if not always clean water.

The people here are a strange mix of toothy grins and rock stern faces. It seems impossible to know what they think of me (so I often ask them.) Undoubtedly many see dollar signs as comparatively speaking, even a poor graduate student studying primate behavior is wealthy. But do they see friendship? Is the cultural and communicative divide too great? At times in the past it has been. Other times and in other situations, it has not. Myself, I am torn between maintaining a steely, grim face as appears befitting the men here with what feels more natural, a disarming smile and a craving to make the children laugh. I guess its nice to know that the latter is "me".

The singing has stopped and was followed by appreciative applause.