Kalemie Blues

I am writing this in the ‘waiting room’ at Kalemie MONUSCO Airport, where I am waiting for the only weekly flight out to stop by at some point today and get me to Goma. As I approached the gate this morning, the guard quickly showed up to check my name on the list. He actually had a few lists tucked in one folder, as Thursday seems to be the magic day here: all rare flights from and to all directions converge in Kalemie so that passengers can swap planes. The guard flipped through all the lists, but he somehow only found one Suzanne and one Charlize, and I kept trying to convince him that I was neither. When he was just about ready to dictate I should go back, I caught glimpse of a tiny table at the bottom of one of the lists. There, in all majesty, stood my name! Surprisingly, too, there were no mistakes!!! (Last two times I flew to and from Kinshasa, I was recorded as Silviana-Maria – with no family name – and on the way back Sinziana Demain – which prompted comments after comments when they finally caught on). This time – wow – I was there, with all my three names all spelled out correctly. I was really happy for some 5 seconds, until I discovered how I was registered under nationality: Italian. Why and how come – totally beyond me. I guess someone might have just guessed my nationality according to the sounding of my name… Oh well, I could live with that, and so could the guard, so here I was granted passage in this open-air barrack. Not before I was informed that I would be the only passenger to board here (hopefully not the only passenger on the plane, though…) These flights usually go in circles- i.e. Goma-Kalemie-Kindu-Bukavu-Goma, so I am thinking more stranded people in all these places would join my flying adventure today.

As MONUSCO-Benin contingent soldiers are crowding the area, and one NGO and UN car after another comes by Tanganyika Lake shore and then through the gravel yard to drop off other passengers, I am already getting the blues for this place, where I now spent one full week. Maybe it is just the element of total surprise that I experienced here, or maybe the great feeling of normality (which I have not found anywhere else in Congo) that got to me, but I REALLY, REALLY had a great time in this God forsaken place. Of course, the fact that I lived in a beautiful house right on the lake, AND that I could take loooong walks on the beach, made this week very special indeed.

The one “big challenge” I experienced: finding a place to swim without having hundreds of people congregate around or follow me in the water (mzungus are a rarity around here, and even more so girls in bikinis, I would imagine). Even at 6 a.m. (during the most spectacular sunrises I have ever seen at the beach), or at 6 p.m. (as darkness falls abruptly), the beach is usually swamped: fishermen with all sorts of tools (including mosquito nets for the tiny prey); people washing themselves or tons of clothes; kids playing in the very shallow water; women loading massive sand sacks and then swiftly balancing them on their heads to walk all the way into town; boys coming with the yellow plastic containers to get water for all household necessities (including drinking, of course…) It really is one of those places where the Lake gives life and death at the same time, considering all the many diseases that get carried back and forth through this “good-for-all” water…

Of course the week was not just fun-in-the-sun, but mainly incredibly intense field work. Inland, I visited scores of villages and talked to tens of people about every single aspect of their lives: family, education, health, development… I visited school and clinics, mills and markets. For the first time in my life I saw cholera emergency camps set up (no patients, though, at this time … a surge is expected soon, once the rainy season begins). Also for the first time ever I was in a camp for Internally Displaced People (IDPs), coming mostly from the neighboring provinces where rebels and army alike constantly threaten and destroy people’s lives. It was one of the harshest moments I have ever experienced, witnessing all the misery, disease, poverty and hopelessness…

As my life constantly balances between the lowest of the low, in the world’s most backward country, and the ultimate luxury I am actually bestowed upon, I cannot be thankful enough for seeing and living it all. Kalemie was by no means an exception. A completely astonishing week now comes to the end, and I can say this much: I have never been happier and more fulfilled in my new job than now!