All About the Hair

On a Saturday in January we had a fun experience.  Sister Riendeau keeps her hair short – her hair is so easy to maintain, I’m jealous of it.  However, Sister Riendeau kept complaining that her hair was growing out of control.  She bought razor blades in the store so she could do some trimming on her own, but found she was limited when it came to the back of her head, and I wouldn’t even attempt such a thing.  She brought hair trimmers from home, in case anyone knew how to use them, but no one in the office will even try to cut hair.  Sister McMullin (the mission president’s wife) keeps talking about bad haircuts that she gets, so she can’t refer anyone reliable.  The Sisters in the office keep talking about other places that may be worth a try, but we have no way of going out on our own to scout around town to find somebody. 

The mission has several vehicles and we can go anyplace we need to go, but in those early days of our mission, someone had to drive us everywhere and then wait for a couple of hours before picking us up again.  They were willing to do that, but we don't want to ask such a thing.

The really big problem is that the Congolese hair is all the same:  very black and kinky, and not easy to work with.  

Every woman has several wigs, and sometimes when you see the same woman in church a few weeks apart you don’t recognize her because she will be wearing a different wig – and a different dress.  

They also wear different types of nets or scarves around their heads like turbans to match their dresses.  

They are quite creative when it comes to hair.

Another thing they do is braid extensions into their hair, sometimes continuing with long tiny braids, or just using long straight extensions to give the illusion of having long straight hair.  They then have the flexibility of arranging the extended hair into different creative styles.  

They have an amazing talent of braiding tiny and multiple “corn rows” on their heads and especially the young girls, even adding little beads to their creations.  

  Of course, a few women just let their hair grow out a little bit and pull it straight back and put a pony-tail band around it, then there is this frizzy ball thing sticking out on the back of the head. 

So, being that American hair type is drastically different from Congolese hair is one reason why no one wants to go out and experiment with different hair dressers.  We were actually thinking about going Congolese style and having extensions braided into our hair.  Of course, some of the beauty shops look rather atrocious, rising up right out of the mud, so you have to wonder about sanitary conditions.

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Back to Sister Riendeau.  She was in such a state of desperation that she started praying about what to do about her hair.  We were thinking about getting one of the couple missionaries to drop us off at Hotel Lubumbashi to find a hair dresser, even though we had no input on whether or not that would be a good choice.  However, everyone was gone, so we were out of luck with that idea anyway.

We had given up on the hair problem and decided to walk to the market to get some items we were in urgent need of.  There is a little grocery store called Hyper-Psaro, probably ¾ of a mile away.  We live in a neighborhood where ex-patriots live and there is a European customer base for the store. 

 As we approached the store, I noticed a tall, white woman just checking out and I had the impression to approach her and ask her two questions, first, if she spoke English, and second, if she knew of anyone around that worked with hair.  Well, she does speak English, her name is Bethany and she is from Australia and has lived in the Congo for what she said is a long time.  Second, she had just had her hair cut that very morning and she does have a favorite hair dresser that lives not very far way.  The hair dresser’s name is Monique, and she specializes in European-type hair, and she works out of her home.

We got Monique’s phone number and address.  Monique, however, does not speak English.  She speaks French and Swahili.  Sister Riendeau gave her a call, and we were fully prepared to continue our walk to go and find her – if she would take time to see us.  As it turned out, she did have time to see us, and as she was explaining to Sister Riendeau the walking directions for getting to her house, she paused and said, “No, if you walk you will most likely get lost, so I will send my chauffeur to pick you up.”  Well, that is just what she did. 

We waited by the large shopping center marquee sign at the entrance to the shopping center looking for a car we didn’t know with a driver we’d never seen before to come and pick us up and take us away.  A vehicle did came, and we got into the vehicle, and he drove away.  It all seemed a little strange.  But all was as promised.  We went to the correct street and to a very green gate (vehicles stop at gates and honk their horns and wait for a guard to open the gates).  As we entered the property behind the high walls, it was beautiful.  Green lawn, beautiful flowers and trees everywhere and immaculately kept.  We went inside the home, and were escorted to Monique’s beauty parlor.  We fell in love with Monique.  She has every kind of blood you can imagine.  She is ¼ Congolese, meaning black blood, but she is also Belgium, Spanish, and other stuff.  Her skin is a beautiful olive white and she has beautiful long, wavy blonde hair.  Her great grandfather was a Congolese tribal chief of one of the tribes that sold other blacks into slavery many long years ago.

Monique’s house was clean, orderly, and lovely.  Her housekeeper, a Congolese, washed our hair, and then Monique cut the hair of both of us.  She had all the right tools and equipment for a licensed shop, and she has the natural skill and ability of a well-trained beautician.  She said her usual rate was $50/haircut, but for missionaries she gives us a rate of $30.  Even at that, I was amused by the fact that here this lady was, never had to take time out to go to beauty school, never paid for cosmetology education, didn’t have to pay to pass a test or for a license, doesn’t have any overhead (for the most part) because she works out of her home, and still she earned $60.00 from us on that day.  AND we were happy to pay her. (The average annual wage in the Congo is $300, which is less than $1.00/day.)  We don’t see that kind of initiative in the people here for the most part.  Her chauffeur drove us back to the store; we continued with our shopping and walked home all coiffed up and feeling good about ourselves.  

We have a new friend and will be visiting her many times during our stay in the DR Congo.  We learned a lot more about her and her gift for gardening as well.  

Monique the Beautician in her backyard garden.

Monique and Sister Riendeau

In any case, if I’m supposed to talk about spiritual experiences while I’m on this mission, the trip to the beautician was truly a spiritual experience in many ways.

May 16, 2014

My Week:

The Power and the Wash

               The week started out with no power.  Apparently it was a wide-spread power outage throughout Lubumbashi.  We had no electricity for over three days.  The compound has at least three small generators and one large generator that will power the four residences and the mission office.  We try to get by without using them because the diesel to run them can be spendy – at least a couple thousand dollars a month.  We have a small one that we can use for our house if we really need to run the refrigerator or stove to prepare dinner, but we if we use it to cook, we can only use one burner and we unplug our two small water heaters.  My companion and I usually get by with sandwiches made with tuna, tomatoes, and other veggies, or just eat fruit, so we don’t cook when there is no electricity. We have electric lanterns that help us see from room to room.  Of course, we must remember to charge up the lanterns when there is power.

One of the small generators. The canisters are called bidons and hold the diesel that fuels the generators

               There is another smaller generator that is used to power the mission office.  During the day, the mission office generator must run or our office equipment won’t operate, so mission work would come to a standstill.

               The big generator is turned on when power is needed everywhere and usually in the evenings for two or three hours to give us enough time to fix dinner, eat, and get ready for bed.

The big generator is the large blue box below the water tanks.
These are located behind the mission home

               Late Wednesday night, the power came back on – of course it was past bedtime, so that is the Congo way.  I was happy the power came on because I had lots of clothes that needed washing in the washing machine.  I got up early Thursday morning and put in a large load just before 6:00 AM.  The clothes washed for about 15 minutes, and then the power went off again.  We've had intermittent power off and on since that time.  We can never predict what to expect. Then other strange things happened like we had no water pressure, and one of the water heaters stopped heating the water. I thought that since we had electricity for part of the time that I could at least get the washing machine to finish going through all the cycles to finish washing my clothes.  The power to the washing machine never came on again even though we had power to the house.  On Friday morning, I fished my clothes out of the washing machine and took them over to the other washing machine at the mission office – after a full 24-hour soak and other short power outages, I finally got my clothes washed and hung out.

The Orange and the Bytes

               In the Congo, we have a few internet providers to choose from.  We use MicroCom for the office internet at $700 each month for not so speedy internet.  We also have some VodaCom hotspot gadgets that we keep loaded with gigabytes which provide good mobility, a sharing capability, and sometimes faster service.  I have a little hotspot gadget and I’ve also loaded my iPhone with hotspot capability from VodaCom.  The VodaCom GB’s must be used within a month or all remaining GB’s expire.  However, if you purchase more GB’s before they expire in a month, then the remainder will be saved and carried over to the new month with the new purchase.

               Then there is the Orange Internet that is trying to make a big splash in Africa.  Orange provides what is called an Orange USB stick.  This stick is plugged directly into the computer USD drive and after downloading its software will provide a cell-like internet service directly to your computer.  It doesn’t need a password because it cannot be shared but only works on the computer that it’s plugged into.  On April 21^st I paid $100 for 10 GBs of internet service.  I have NEVER been able to get the Orange Stick to work on my computer.  So yesterday, May 15^th, I loaded up my laptop and the Orange Stick and took it to the Orange store for them to get it to work on my computer.  After sitting there for over an hour and the service agent mucked around and had to uninstall my VodaCom hotspot software and then installed,  uninstalled, installed, and uninstalled the Orange software about four times, it still does not work.  Like VodaCom, the 10 GB’s expire in a month, but unlike VodaCom, the purchase of additional GB’s does not prevent the units from expiring and does not extend the usage time.  I’ve spent far too long with this stupid stick, and it has done strange things to my computer.  So, I’m going to have to let the GBs expire and I’ll never step foot into Orange again and discourage all I meet and see from using the stupid Orange service.  That’s $100 down the Orange drain.

The Drive in the War Zone

(I sure wish I had actual pictures of this one. The pictures shown don't even come close to showing the reality of this day.)

               My companion and I have realized for some time now that it will be imperative for us to become more proficient in driving in Lubumbashi and other Congo places.  We must be able to drive downtown in order to go to VodaCom to put units on our phones and hotspots, and also to shop in the major stores.  Up to now, we have relied a great deal on the current senior missionaries to drive us around, and Sister Riendeau actually has a driver, Vincent, who takes her to the different Stake buildings where she teaches French to the sisters in the wards.  We both now have Congo driver’s licenses and we are very confident in driving to the closest grocery store, Hyper-Psaro, and to a couple of little marchés where we get fresh fruits and vegetables.

               However, the Wright’s have gone back home to Boise, and the Clawson’s will be leaving in August and we will be in a world of hurt unless we become more independently mobile.  In addition, we will be getting new missionaries that will depend on us to know our way around.  In August, we will be the ones that have been here the longest, and that even includes the new mission president. The full weight of this responsibility is very difficult to convey to those in a civilized and organized society.  We have become very familiar with different streets and landmarks, but we are just not sure how all of the streets are connected together and if we can find our way home from any of the streets, even though they are familiar.  I will try and explain by telling about my first adventure of driving downtown by myself today.  For several days I’ve been planning to make my downtown driving debut.  I’m not sure if I can fully describe my experiences, but I will try.

               I started my driving plan several days ago.  When riding with the Clawson’s, I paid extra attention to the best routes, and got specific helps and hints from the Clawson’s as we went.  I knew I would have to try this trip alone since Sister Riendeau teaches three afternoons a week and it’s hard to find the time together to do all the things we need to get done.  I got out the map, studied the streets and the places to make turns.  I knew which stores I wanted to visit, and I had my shopping list ready to go.  I got on my knees and prayed that my driving would be good, that I would be safe and the truck would not get damaged.  I made sure I had a full take of gas, I took the map, a compass (on my iPhone), and my fully-charged iPhone along with 2000 Congolese Francs in the center console for extortion money should I need it.  I rolled up the windows, locked the doors, and off I went.

All went well until – I must have missed one vital turn because I was no longer headed for downtown but out of town – towards Gecamines because the Gecamines mine was closer than it was supposed to be.  The streets still looked familiar, but they were the wrong streets.  So I turned around and headed for the busiest streets that I could see because I knew downtown was busy.  As I headed down one street, low and behold out steps a couple of policemen with their iridescent vests, clubs, and spike triangles.  I stopped and rolled down my window only a couple of inches.  In French, they directed me to show them my papers.  I showed them my Congolese driver’s license, but they seemed to want more documents.  I wasn’t sure what they wanted.  Sometimes it’s good to not know what they ask because you can get in bigger trouble if you understand what they want and you don’t have it, than if you don’t know what they want in the first place.  So I decided that the best thing to do was to relinquish the extortion money right there and then.  I’ll have to say that the policeman’s grin was quite charming and he was quite accommodating in letting me continue on with my adventure.

               Continuing on, I headed for apparently the center of town because the streets suddenly became extremely congested.  There were four and five lanes of traffic where there was road for two lanes, three or four lanes each going in the opposite directions.  The Congolese don’t drive with the concept of lanes, but with the concept of “spaces.”  If there is a space, then they go there if they can find a wormhole to take them to their destination.  Before I knew it, I was in the middle of the gridlock and I was facing nose to nose with another vehicle with only a few feet between us.  As I was at a dead stop, people started swarming into the road between the vehicles.  Several people walked in front of my truck and bent over gathering something up.  I thought at first that someone had dropped a load and was just picking up what was dropped, but there were four or five people all stooped over picking up the stuff.  As I watched them carry it off to the side of the road and then to the sidewalk I noticed that it was not stuff at all – it was a man!  There had been a man lying on the ground right in front of my truck and I did not see him and I didn’t know he was there.  He was limp as they carried him away, he was not moving, and it took several people to drag him out of the road.  It still baffles me because I have no idea how he got there because I never saw him and I’m quite sure that I did not hit him.  However, I would have run right over him if I could have found a way to maneuver between the cars that were at my right.

 

A little too close?
Actual picture I took a couple of months back.
This is the normal traffic in congested areas.

              Given the fact that I was blocked on all four corners and sides, there was not much I could do.  However, there is always a Congolese or two who love to get in the middle of gridlock and direct the traffic to get the jam untangled and that is what happened in this case.  A fine young man dressed in a black T-shirt with a green “Monster Drink” logo on the front came to the rescue. It’s important to note that these people love to untangle gridlock in the hopes of getting tips.  It’s also noteworthy that white people are chosen to help the most because supposedly they tip the best – another note is that very rarely will you see a woman driver in the Congo.  So, I was a target all the way around, plus I was alone.  This young man paid particular attention to me to get me out of the jam.  It took two of three blocks to do so, and he stuck with it all the way.  Meanwhile, a dozen other Congolese decided they wanted to join in with the assistance in hopes of being the favored chosen one to receive a tip, so before I knew it, I had a dozen Congolese all over my truck like maggots.  They were hanging off my bumpers and running board, banging at the windows and the top and sides of the truck – all talking very loudly.  I am unable to tell you what they were saying. They could hang on because there was no way to go fast enough to get them off – at least for three or four blocks.  Finally, I came to a clear roadway where I could pick up some speed.  My focus was on the road and not whether or not the attachments were able to safely dislodge.  I so much wanted to tip the “Monster Drink” assistant because he truly was the one to help me out, but I had two problems.  Number one, I had already given away all my extortion funds to the policeman, and number two, if I unrolled my window to give him anything, all the other leaches would be all over me again and I would have exposure through an open window.  One thing I learned early in this mission is that you NEVER give something to just one person if others are around and watching because if you do, it would be like giving a few breadcrumbs to one Seagull on a beach.  Within seconds you would be inundated with a whole swarm and you would never have enough to feed them all but you would be knocked down in the attempt to do so.

               So after experiencing freedom again on the road, I decided it would be wise to abandon the idea of going to a store and the thought that I would get anything on my shopping list.  So the next best plan would be to just go home.  However, I was lost and I didn’t know where I was or which direction I was going.  The road was good and the traffic normal, so I was able to focus on figuring out the streets and watching for signs.  I noticed a sign that told me I was on 30 de juin.  That is one of the few streets I know – then I passed an intersection with the road side Ruwe.   That is another street I know because that street goes directly to Kilwa, the street that I live on.  I felt that was a miracle to drive right to the intersection of two streets I know.  The only problem at this point was that I did not know which direction I was going, so even though I knew I needed to turn around to turn onto Ruwe, I didn’t know which direction to take on Ruwe.  There was room to pull over to the side of the road so I did and I turned on the compass on my phone and opened the map.  The compass told me I was traveling North and the map told me that after I turned around I needed to turn right.  That is exactly what I did – and I was so happy to drive through the gates to my compound and safely home.  I parked the truck, got out and checked for damage because at one point I thought I’d gouged the side of the truck by driving through a tight squeeze, but the truck only had some light scrape marks and no gouges.

What an adventure – and then my sweet companion, Sister Riendeau, made chocolate cake!  

 

Gecamines on a Sunday Afternoon

The Miracle of Hastening the Work – Kum Ba Ya

       Let me tell you a little bit about the miracles of this mission. There are no white-boy or white-girl missionaries in this mission. Most of our missionaries are from Kinshasa, Madagascar, Cameroon, or other African French-speaking countries. There have never been single sister missionaries in Africa (not sure about South Africa).

 



President & Sister McMullin

        My companion, Sister Riendeau, is from France.  She moved to the United States when she was in her 20's.  She recently served a mission in Virginia and her mission president there, President Perry, was good friends with President McMullin (our mission president).  When President McMullin was called to serve as the mission president in the DR Congo, he called his good friend, President Perry in Virginia, to ask for advice and asked if he knew anyone who could help the Congolese sisters in the DR Congo mission to learn to read and write French.  Although French is the national language, there is much illiteracy because the people cannot afford to go to school.  French is not the language they grew up with, their native tongue is usually Swahili or Lingala.

           There is a new pilot mission program called Women’s Auxiliary Support (WAS) that President McMullin was able to use as a position that would qualify and justify single sisters coming to Africa.  Sister Riendeau and I worked together in the temple and she felt inspired to ask me to come with her.  During the prior year I had been down scaling and doing everything I could to get myself in a position so that I could eventually go on a mission.  I had no inkling of when I would ever get around to going, left to my own vices, but her invitation put my preparations into high gear, and I moved heaven and earth to get myself ready to go so that we could go together.

Preparing to come:

     One of the first things I had to do was to get my medical and dental in order.  Traveling to Africa requires a mandatory 45-minute consultation with the county travel nurse.  She explained about the country and the requirements for shots.  I ended up spending over $1,000 on shots.  I had shots for Typhoid, Yellow Fever, dTap, Hepatitis, TB test and I can’t remember what else.  When I was in the MTC and on the church’s international insurance, I was able to get the expensive Shingles shot paid for by insurance.  Also, a couple of days before leaving for the mission, we started taking Doxycycline to prevent Malaria.  We take a Doxycycline every day and will continue every day for two weeks after we return home.

     We arrived in Lubumbashi on December 10, 2013.  I’ve seen miracles and heard the stories of miraculous events of the other missionaries in the office.  The need here in the DR Congo is great!  However, the people are inspiring and they have a craving to learn and to be taught.  The country has big problems, and I will address some of these problems in subsequent posts.  The people want to learn and to better themselves; most of them cannot afford to go to school. 

L-R: Delphine, Brigitte, Sister Anthony, Rosalie, Sister Riendeau, Marie & Beatrice  Meeting with the Stake Relief Society Presidents of the five Lubumbashi stakes to organize French language classes for the Relief Society women.

      We started the French language lessons within a few weeks of arriving, and women came with babies on their backs. Sister Riendeau had to modify her lessons from teaching grammar and pronouns in present singular & plural tense to teaching the Congolese women how to write and pronounce the vowels then the consonants, then teaching them how to form and pronounce words.  They were excited when they discovered they could sound out words!  Some of these women had never written the number 2, or been able to recite the alphabet.  Of course, in some of the wards, Swahili is still prevalent, but that’s another story.  We have to use some of the more advanced students to translate from French into Swahili, and then back from Swahili into French.