A few thoughts from the week

Humility. Seems like the week has been full of lessons on humility.

• Listen first and talk only when asked. 
• There is wisdom in the silence. 
• There is wisdom in the apparent confusion. 
• There is something to learn when I'm least willing to learn. 
• Suit up and show up, even if I don't feel like it. 
• God does provide. 
• And, as my daughters remind me whenever they have the patience to run with me, and I'm exhausted and am ready to quit, 'This is where the work gets done.'"

Learning a new language is difficult. One of my 6-month goals is to develop basic fluency (competency?) in French and Swahili. On one hand, there could be no better opportunity. UCBC students and staff are French speakers, and Swahili is the language of everyday life. I have books, home-made flashcards, notes from impromptu lessons in the hallway. At home Mama Furaha, Mama Odette, and Papa Gabby are solicitous and patient as I ask for the fifth time, "Una sema wash dishes au Swahili?" ("How do you say wash dishes in Swahili?"). I try to give at least an hour each day to focused study. Mama Honoré (Decky) is the kindest, most competent French teacher. But an hour after study, it's all I can do to keep from melting in frustration and disappointment at my slow progress. Everyone is kind and patient. Colleagues' and students encourage me with, "Courage!" and "Ça vas venir." But progress is not at the speed I want or that I think I should have. Hmmm....humility again?



"Go to your Congolese sisters and brothers." When I came to Beni in 2010, Paul Robinson said that there would be a time (or times) when I'd feel like I was "hitting the wall"--when things would feel stuck, difficult, maybe even unbearable. "When that happens, go to your Congolese sisters and brothers." It was valuable counsel on several occasions over those months. It's advice that helped this week.
It was all I could do to keep from crying Thursday morning. Frustration with learning French and Swahili, being overwhelmed with the work that needs to be done, still trying to "put on my sea legs" (it's taken me the last two weeks to even find them!), acclimating to the "reality that is life in Congo" (David Kasali's words)... So, when Decky sat down to begin French lesson and asked, "Comment ça vas?" the tears began.
"How do you do it? How do Honoré and Manassé and Daniel and David do it? The work is so big."

Before answering, Decky offered the gift of quiet comfort. After several minutes of silence she explained how she has discovered solace in the act of giving thanks for the difficulties. We prayed. It was time for French. I was ready.


A Garden of Delights

A glimpse of "home"

Congo is full of surprises. This week during an evening walk, a school boy joined Dick, Ann, and me for a bit and practiced his English. “I am a boy. He is a man. We are walking.” After about three minutes he waved, “I have arrived,” and turned down a corner.

Nyumba Tunmaini (sp? Still learning!), the house that CI currently rents for international staff, is a newly built structure with interesting, locally-appreciated design features. The exterior is graced with large swirls of turquoise plaster. There is a street light of 5 tulip-shaped bulbs in 4 colors. Instead of a yard or garden, there is substantial “hardscape.” But in a narrow strip of hard dirt, against a cement wall, a banana tree flourishes. Its cluster of fruit steady and ripening in its course.

Bathroom shelving (do you see the soap, too?)

Abu Bakar, the night guard, uses the banana tree as storage   for his toiletries.