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!