Partie II de II - relations construites: Maman Megan (et autres étapes)

Part II of II - Relationship Building: Maman Megan (and other steps forward)

Don't read this yet. This is part II of the past week-and-a-half-or-so. Scroll down to part one.

As Karen Ridd has taught me to do, I am trying hard to be mindful of my experiences of cultural adjustment; to notice opportunities as they arise and act on them, to be aware of them as they are happening, and to reflect on them after they've happened. As a result I am enjoying them immensely.

Two Thursdays ago now (oh dear, three months is just not enough time!), I realized that I was not, in fact, hearing things and that people had been calling me Maman Megan. I asked Maman T why this was, and she explained to me that it is a highly significant sign of respect. I had an ahah! moment, followed by an awwwwww! moment, followed by a quiet oh, wow. moment all in the course of about 30 seconds. This turned out to be quite the day for me. Let me explain.

During the conflict resolution training session at the CPLB office that afternoon, the group was in the process of discussing conflict dynamics and how conflict can either be negatively or positively transformed by behaviours and attitudes. They first used a generic textbook-like story (Congolese culture is highly based on oral traditions and story telling), and then began to discuss conflict dynamics in Congolese context. They understand (as, to my relief, have I for the past two years of studying this country) their current conflicts as stemming widely from their colonial history. Going all the way back to the region's discovery by Belgium; through slave commerce; then understanding imperialist attitudes toward foreign territory inhabited by non-whites (and how colonies were established and justified), this historical progression is not only inextricable from Congo's current conflict, but also key to understanding conflict in Congo and many other post-colonial states today. They discussed colonialism for a while, and how attitudes and behaviours in that part of their history influenced conflict. When they were about to go on I somehow mustered up all of the courage I could and asked, for the first time since my arrival, if I might offer a thought. They listened politely as I explained that it could be that attitudes of entitlement, coupled with beliefs that what was to be found in this region was there for the taking, drove Leopold II and later the Belgian state in their behaviours. These same attitudes and beliefs can be seen behind not only Mobutu's actions for the thirty-plus years following independence, but also in a huge majority of the actors involved in their current conflict; European, North American, and African alike. This attitude of entitlement is a major theme running through Congo's history from the very first contact with Europe and really does help understand how it is that so many foreign actors have their hands in Congo's cookie jar, so to speak.

I couldn't believe it. As I struggled to articulate myself in French and suggest this idea, I watched their faces light up one by one as though there were cartoon lightbulbs being switched on over their heads.

Of course, they said, and then picked the discussion up and just started running with it, going down the list of significant events in Congo's history that exemplify this concept. They really seemed excited about being offered another angle from which to analyze their realities. Really, I couldn't believe it. I got something right! While they carried on with their discussion, I sat in my observer's position in the room which is removed from the table they sit around during the sessions, a little excited and dizzy with relief that neither had they been offended, nor put out, by my being so bold as to offer my Western perspective.

Did I earn myself some credibility? When the session was over and I was standing outside waiting for Jean Claude to lock up, one of the members of the session walked outside, up to me, and slowly and rather conclusively said "Bon, Maman Megan," with a smile. This was the first time that he had called me Maman.

Another way that I have been able to do some important relationship building has been through laughing. Congolese love to laugh; particularly at each other. This has been a bonus for me, being that I've been so socio-culturally clumsy and really kind of dorky this whole time. But it is so so important to laugh at yourself when you're being laughed at! Each time I've shared a laugh with someone, we've ended up just a little bit more comfortable with each other. This happened immediately with Maman T. Does that woman ever love to laugh!! She's really taken me under her wing and took on a sort of surrogate mother role with me almost right away. Next was Pascal, with whom I shared some full belly-laughs about his visits to Canada and cultural differences at the beginning of my second week.

After another weekend back with my family - that is, my biological family - I arrived back chez Kulungus and last Wednesday had Claudia take me to the Avenue de Commerce just outside the Grande Marché - Commerce Avenue outside the city's central market downtown. I was on the hunt for some good fabrics to have tailored into culturally and climatologically (so totally not the right word lol) appropriate clothing. It took about an hour each way from the house to get downtown in that sweltering heat by taxibus.

I suppose I haven't entirely explained these wonderful modes of transportation, have I? We-eh-ell. Most of them have had their seats removed and benches installed in them. There are usually anywhere from two to three more benches in them than it is possible to fit people comfortably or even logistically and there is about a foot between each bench for leg room. But where there is an inch of free space in a taxibus, a person will replace it. Six-seater vans are turned into twenty-seater taxis. Many of them have round holes cut into their sides for (not windows, but) air-holes, but more often than not the unfortunate people who end up getting in first get crammed up against them and block any air from actually making its way in. I plan on posting some video on my Facebook page of the Poids Lourds that I can covertly take in our vehicle behind the safety of the CIA-dark tinted windows of the back seat, and I should be able to get a few shots of them in the vid. And they are CHEAP (by my wealthy standards, anyways). The hour drive from Binza - the district in which the Kulungus reside - to downtown, cost 500 francs for each of us. The ride back was only 350 francs each (the price varies depending on what the driver of each individually owned taxi decides to charge that day, or ride, or for that person). The exchange rate last Wednesday was 800FC to $1 USD; you do the math.

Anyhow, by the time we got to the Ave I had finished all of my water and my clothes were thoroughly drenched. As in skirt sticking to ass getting out-wet. She led me around the Ave seemingly aimlessly for a while and I figured she was just showing me around and letting me take it all in; I'm almost always in vehicles being transported from one place to another, so this was the first time I really got a good chance to take in the sounds and smells and bustling colours up close. It was great! I put on my best I Am Not Brand New To This Country So Do Not Even Think About Trying To Take Advantage act (which, btw, Claudia said I do quite well) and 'casually' walked around with her. I didn't get a chance to find out until later why she was occasionally shaking her head or rolling her eyes or laughing to herself. Everyone told me before I left the house that I would be 'bothered' a lot and that it is a really good thing that I am able to wear my bag in front of me so that the pickpocket shegués can't sneak into it behind me. I got various other warnings of this nature before we left, but while we were on the Ave I really didn't notice much more than a few shegués asking me for money or to buy their wares and a whole lot of people saying mondele in between a whole lot of other Lingala words that I don't understand. And, of course, people greeting me. Finally, we ended up at this massive store with twenty foot-high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling fabric. You wouldn't believe it. I wanted to take pictures so badly!! It was completely overwhelming though. The heat, dehydration, and the selection were just too much for me and I barely even looked around. I just stuck to one corner and got the heck outta dodge as fast as I could! Even with the high ceilings, I began to feel a little claustrophobic after a while. As a result, I am bound and determined to go back! I got some really beautiful patterns, and one of the bolts I bought is, by fluke, some good quality West African material (says my aunt who lived in West Africa for six years). However, I also bought a much poorer quality fabric and none are Congolese! I was a little hasty. No worries. Now that I know what I am walking into, I'll go back and do it right. I'd like to go to some open air markets to get more, but there was one pattern there that I would really like to go back for. En tous cas, in the end I ended up paying $27 USD for 24 yards of material. Not too shabby, no?

When we got back to the house the first thing that Maman T asked me was whether I was bothered by many people. I told her no, not really; if there were many people calling after me I wouldn't know because it was all in Lingala! So Maman looked to Claudia, who began to giggle. She said that there were a whole bunch of men everywhere we went calling me a vraie cherie, which after a little probing I managed to get her to explain to me means a beautiful girl. Eeh! Not so! I insisted that there is no way that they could have been talking about me because white women are noooo match for the renouned beauty of African women. They wouldn't even have been able to see me next to her. Non, non! she laughs. They were talking about you! Nope, not so, I again insisted. It was you, dear.

Boy oh baby, that was it. Maman started laughing as soon as I started in on Claudia, and by the time I was finished my African women are more beautiful statement she was practically falling off her chair. And I swear that if Claudia's skin was just a couple of shades lighter I would have been able to see her blushing. I said that, too, and Maman started laughing even harder! The three of us laughed about this for a good ten minutes - no exaggeration. It was so great. Again the following morning, as we were both doing our hair in the bedroom, I offhandedly remarked 'eeh, çe qu'on fais pour la beauté, hein?' (the things we do for beauty!) which got us going again. 'A man wouldn't last a week in a woman's body!' 'Can you picture a man trying to put on his mascara in the morning? He wouldn't have eyes left by the end of the morning!' etc, etc. Breakthrough! The family is relatively conservative, and in a country in which many people will completely deny the existence of homosexuals, the idea of a man putting on mascara is, indeed, laughable. Additionally, other than Maman and Pascal most of them have kept a culturally respectful distance from me; not avoiding me or conversation with me by any means, but just generally not getting too close. The age gaps have a lot to do with it; particularly in Tshiokwe culture, children and youth stick with their age mates. 15 year old Julianna and 19 year old Christelle stick together and there is too much of an age difference for us to really develop a very intimate relationship. 22 year old Nene is very quiet and really sticks to herself. It's inappropriate for the guys to get close with me at all, regardless of their age. Claudia, about 26, is naturally the closest to me in age and has been the most open of all. She was always asking me how I was and seemed the most relaxed in her demeanour toward me, but we hadn't had any really critical incident-type bonding moments until this. It was suuuuch a fantastic feeling.

Since I can't add captions to my photos, and I am never able to take pictures of things I want to blog about, let me quickly explain the pics posted above (they are explained in reverse because they don't seem to want to post in the order I've explained them and I have been sitting in front of this computer for long enough for one day so don't want to copy and paste around!):

4)Dinner with friends of Aunt and Uncle - they are on either side of me for those of you who've never met them. I tried crocodile for the first time that night, which was delicious. Thankfully, this picture was taken near the beginning of the evening; the air conditioner barely worked and by the end of the evening I had sweated so much that I looked like I had just stepped out of the shower. I suppose ordering soup didn't help.

3)Mama and baby! This is our new backyardigan. Ellie is definitely no longer pregnant, and spends half of her time chasing the little one back into the house i.e. electrical box.

2)A longtime friend of John and Charity's, Pakisa, that aunt Char grew up 90 miles away from here in Kamayala. Pakisa has lived in the States for the past thirty-odd years, and told us last night that he wants to move back home; that he doesn't belong anywhere but Congo. It was beyond touching.

1)Just one of the breathtaking Kinshasa sunsets that I have the privilege of watching every night.