Mais, avant que je rentre...

But, Before I Leave...

I am afraid that this might be my last entry before I go. I have a week left. A week. A week!! I don't even know what to do with that thought. I facilitated my workshop for the last time yesterday at UC Kin, didn't have a nap in the afternoon, and stayed up all the way until ten. By all standards since I've arrived here, I should have been exhausted. But I still only managed to stay asleep until four A.M. because a dream about re-entry into Canada woke me. I finally started to drift back off about 45 minutes later and another dream about re-entry woke me. I gave up on sleep and instead just lay quietly listening to the breathing sounds of the other three women and two-year-old child sleeping in the room with me and tried to imagine what it's going to be like to sleep in a room alone.

I've got to admit that I'm still nervous about coming home. Really. It's silly; I've lived in Winnipeg all my life. It is the most familiar place in the world to me. But I just feel like it's going to look differently. I am trying to grapple with the thought of clean, lit streets at night and strong water pressure. How is it that I've only been here for three months, but those basic amenities are starting to seem somehow unnatural? Hah! Wierd. Perhaps it is again guilt rearing its ugly head, creeping up behind me to remind me that this is not my life and that I am going back to a place where there is no malaria and even if there were, most people would not have to choose between buying mosquito nets or feeding their families. Perhaps guilt is making me disassociate from all of that good stuff. I don't know. But before I go, I want to take inventory of all of the wonderful things about this wonderful country. I want all of the good things to be first and foremost in my mind when I arrive back in 'Peg city.

Sounds
-the sound of men selling bread in big metal tubs on their heads, walking around tapping a knife on the side of the tub
-the sound of walking shoe-shiners clapping wood together
-the sound of walking manicure/pedicurists tapping glass bottles together
-the sound of kids walking around at night when the power's gone off tapping on tin cans; selling palm oil to light lamps
-the sound of women selling fruit on the side of the road letting out a big 'eeh!,' then arguing rapidly in Lingala about the price of fruit or the exchange rates
-the sound of people sweeping out their compounds
-'eaupure! eaupure!'
-'eeeehhh, mondele mbote!'
-the collective 'awwwwwww' from the neighbourhood when the power goes out, and the shouts of joy when it comes back on... every single time
-falling asleep listening to the music drifting down the road from the local pub

Sights
-a million different fabrics in a million different colours... and being able to tell which one just came out
-not one woman wearing shoes that fit her
-rows upon rows of people with oranges, water, apples, bread, and whatever other fruit that's in season in multicoloured plastic tubs on their heads, walking to their spot first thing in the morning
-groups of five to ten guys all leaning up against cars that don't belong to them, all wearing shades, all wearing D&G, Versace, and Prada... all unemployed but so cool
-psychotic taxi drivers pulling across into the middle of intersections covering both lanes of traffic going in either direction and stalling
-papaya trees growing out of the side of massive heaps of garbage and bearing fruit
-the Congo river

Smells
-..... I'll have to get back to you on this one

Sensations
-the feeling that comes along with feeling something very light touch your arm or hand, and then looking down to see a small child looking up at you in wonder and shyly smiling while standing behind her mother
-the feeling that comes along with other small children being terrified of you because they've never seen white people before, and then everyone in the room rolling around on the ground laughing
-the feeling of sitting in the middle of a group of women speaking in a language I don't understand and quietly trying to break manioc leaves off of their stems without getting my hands tapped and shown how I'm doing it wrong (but having no idea what the difference is in the way I'm doing it)
-the feeling of no personal space
-the feeling I get when Pascal's mother greets me or starts clapping upon my arrival

I had an interesting experience tonight. A delegation of ten young people - nine from Canada, seven from Winnipeg, all here on missions - came to dinner. Papa had told me that we were having a group of Canadians in for dinner and I honestly expected them to be middle-aged, not my age. So when the all filed in the door I was surprised, and had no idea that they were from my city. Ma ville! We talked, but not about Canada. We talked about Congo, about various cultural and other types of experiences we've had since we've arrived. I believe that all but one of them had ever been here before; Paul said that he got the Congo bug a few years back and has been back every year since. I know the feeling and I haven't even left yet. Many ex-pats have mentioned this to me; something about this country that gets in your blood and draws you back no matter how far you go or how long you're gone. Hello, my dear aunt was gone for 30 years and has returned home now en permanence. So we all sat out in a big circle in the courtyard after dinner and talked about Kinshasa. We had a lively discussion about mondeles. It was great. Papa, Paul, and I all laughed. The rest of them giggled nervously and all looked uncomfortable with the whole ordeal. I felt like an insider looking out, or an outsider looking in... at how I felt when I first arrived when I heard that word and every time I went out and attracted so much attention. I didn't even realize that I don't even realize anymore whether or not I am attracting attention with my skin or that the word mondele doesn't bother me anymore. In fact, I have begun correcting people when they mistake me for Chinese. They'll say 'neehaw!' and I'll say 'te, te, pas chinois. Mondele.' When they all filed out at the end of the evening and we walked them up the street a bit, I got a wonderful and bizarre feeling. I felt this huge sense of relief that I was not with them; that I was staying here in my home in Binza. Their visit this evening made me feel closer to my family.

I had another emotional event last week. The day that John and Charity left I was a mess. Their leaving really brought it home to me that I, too, would be leaving all too shortly (interesting choice of words I've made...). I cried. Then Maman Therese started crying. Then Claudia started crying. We were all standing in the girls' room with one arm around each other crying. It must have looked ridiculous :) That thought occurred to me right in the middle of our orchestra but it didn't make it any easier. I have begun my goodbyes and until-next-times.

I have to start saying that.