Tributaries count too

In Kisangani in the Orientale Province, helping with preparations for the upcoming polio campaign. Needed to go to the Health Zone of Yakusu. After 20 minutes on the back of a Yamaha 100, literally squeezed between the ice chest full of frozen ice packs and the nurse/driver where with every bump in the dirt road, the ice chest pushed up, making the fit tighter, the canoe ride across the Lindi River was a breeze.

 

 

The dugout seemed enormous, cut from one tree. Can you count the number of rings? Apparently the canoe was only 8 years old. Hard to believe that they will still find such straight, large trees after all these years of exploitation. Then, after the hard labor of digging it out, it is sold for the enormous sum of $1000, less than some Liquid Logics that a machine spits out.

 

After this, just 9 more miles on the back of that bike. My arms were numb from holding onto the seat with a death grip.

 

The return was slightly easier since they decided not to send back the ice chest (for my sake, I am convinced). But then the nurse/drive drove faster since he wasn't sitting on the gas tank. The canoe back took longer. The owner wanted to load up everyone he could for the last trip of the day. 2 motorcycles, 2 bicycles and 12 people later, he was still hoping for one last motorcycle to make his day. He finally gave up, but it takes a full hour to paddle and pole upstream far enough to cross, letting the current bring us back to the landing on the other side.

 

The final stretch by motorcycle into the gathering dusk was uneventful other than the speed and the nurse/driver using his left hand to either wipe the bugs out of his mouth or talk with great animation.

 

For map, I think you can follow the link.

Democratic Republic of the Congo

 

June 30 in Kinshasa

Dry season. Sky is mostly white with light clouds and the temperatures are insanely pleasant. Smoke wafts up from set fires. There are no fields here being prepared for cultivation. It is either trash or compulsion born of generations of habit.

 

River down a bit with a sand bar just below the light house. Unlike in February, there are no fishermen to be seen on this section (right in front of the Gombe governement district and Fleuve Hotel).

 

 

Headed to the bend in the river this week. More after.

Sweep the Hooche 2013 #sweephooch was great. We had 38 people for a 4.5 mile stretch of the river from Johnson Ferry road to Powers Island. Less trash than I have seen on previous floats in that section, but we really didn't have much time for it anyway, so it was just enough to keep us amused.

Several novice paddlers - all of them my good friends from Team GID - but no problems for them. They enjoyed the river and vow to return for future trips.

While there wasn't that much trash, we saw many turtles of more than 1 variety, Great Blue Heron, otters at play, geese, ducks and cormarans - evidence that real life isn't that far from the pavement of our surburban/urban existance.

 

Not in the Congo yet, but these are my 2 kayaks restless after a long winter in the garage. The Pungo Classic, bought barely used 3 years ago and the Jackson Rogue, bought new from Outside World last month.

Well, I'm restless. The Rogue hasn't even had her maiden voyage yet. We'll all be out together next Saturday for Sweep the Hooch. Straps are counted, PFD's laid out, new carrying equipment looked at. For a cheapskate, I have somehow amassed 4 different carrying systems and a multitude of straps in 3 years. Will come in handy this weekend as I get Team GID on the water.

Score!

Well, almost anyway.

I've been trying to find maps with sufficient resolution to plan my kayaking adventures. There's plenty of time since my kayaks and I will not be united in Congo until early 2014, but it may take that long....

Yesterday, Saturday, I set off to see if the Institute Geographique was still where I remembered from so long ago. Walked from the hotel to Blvd 30 Juin and guessed at a left hand turn. Just as I was about to accept failure, there it was, seemingly unchanged from the 1980's.

The old man at the gate selling air for tires from a compressor older than he said they were closed, but what did I want? Turned out there was someone there who might help me out. We limped over to the veranda and he called slightly less old gentleman out. Yes, he said, he could help me with a hydrology map, please come.

He escorted me down the hall that hadn't seen paint since independence (the first one) - nor a good dusting for that matter. Opened a door into a closet sized room, while he entered through another door. My side of the desk that separated the 2 doors was full of stacked plastic chairs, paper, cobwebs and yet more dust. There were 2 clean plastic chairs set hard up on the desk and he welcomed me to one. On the other side of the desk, intertwined electric wires crawled up walls and hung down in random intervals, intended perhaps to sport light bulbs. But now illumination came from florescent bulbs behind me. A small television with twisting images fading between color and black and white was on. I looked to see if his bed was set up there, but apparently he slept sitting up in the chair.

He opened an armoir and started pulling out rolled up maps, peering down the roll or opening it slightly to find what he was looking for. Each was discarded into a new random pile in its turn, until he found mine. I didn't have my reading glasses with me, but he lent me his to inspect a detailed map of navigable tributaries of the Congo river, edition 2005!

While it is not so very detailed (the key includes rapids, but that symbol doesn't appear on the map) and no roads or villages are indicated to help figure out put-in/take-out options, I had to have it. $50 if I came on the weekday and bought from the store, $40 today's price. Maybe some of that could go for soap for the floor or walls, or desk, or chairs.

More on the congitation side - on language

The national languages of Congo are French, Lingala, Kinkongo, Kiswahili and Tshiluba. An increasing number of peoople speak some amount of English, including members of the administration, but it is not widespread or especially useful.

I remember back when I was in Peace Corps training. I was going to be teaching biology and chemistry in French. Other colleagues were math teachers and more still were "english as a second language" teachers. An significant amount of the training was dedicated to teaching us French. I had taken French classes in high school and college, but we had a wide variety of talents as volunteers.

One day, the trainers annouced at dinner "from this moment forward, total immersion. We want to hear no pockets of resistance speaking English". One of the math teachers immediately stood up and enthusiastically started greeting everyone around him in French. I assumed he was one of the advanced classes. Imagine my surprize when I - one of the worst pockets of resistance - walked past the class of rank novices and there he was. He went on to enjoy 2 years of teachning math and his French never got beyond the most rudimentary if enthusiastic level.

I'm reminded of this by 3 people I have had the recent pleasure of with in Congo. One has thrown herself into the work, going far and wide within the country, never hesitating to volunteer for a mission here or in other francophone countries. Imagine my surprize when I heard her speak. She could barely put a sentence together and her vocabulary was more spanish than french. Everyone we met and owkred with understood her, waited patiently for her to finish and provided appropriate answers to her questions. They even seemed to prefer to be interviewed by her than by me with my intermediate french.

The other 2 colleagues speak at least as well as me, but are much, much more worried about the proper grammer, gender, conjugation. They constantly beat themselves up and study to speak more perfectly. They are probably harder to understand than the first as they search for just the right word, repeat the verb until it is the correct conjugation and apologize repeatedly during the shortest conversation.

So, firm in the belief that language is about communication and not the mechanics of sentence construction, I hereby commit to never learning to speak better French.

February from the Fleuve Hotel

Hoping to move to Kinshasa in September and bring my kayaks. In the meantime, I'm taking a keen interest in river conditions. Couldn't have a better vantage than from the 16th floor of this hotel, shoals, rapids, eddy lines all in view. Especially as the rain moves down the river. This picture doesn't capture the detail available, nor the beauty of the scene, but alas, I have a better kayak than camera.