Cool Beans - Five Years in DR Congo!

Kinshasa is a large city with some serious traffic!

In the evening on October 11, 2010, we arrived in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo to begin our assignment here. Five years ago! A lot has happened in just five years, both in Congo and in our family.

When we joined MAF, in July of 2008, our family looked like this. We spent two years raising ministry support and attending language school and other training.

We arrived in Congo looking like this.   After our Canadian winter our Florida tans were long gone. And of course the kids were bigger.

We have experienced one election season in this country and face another in the near future. We've learned to be flexible about things like electricity, water (none today), sanitation, and sleep. We have felt the joy of making new friends and the pain of saying goodbye when they left. We've seen our two oldest graduate and return to the states to further their educations, and felt the pride of their accomplishments mingled with the sorrow of not being able to be there for them to help them along. We've had the pride and happiness of seeing our son get married and getting a new daughter. We have lived the guilt and grief of loved ones dying while we were separated from them by thousands of miles, including my mom, my grandmother, my uncle, my mom's cousin, a great uncle, one of David's cousins, and a dear friend. 

We've also seen God perform miracles and met people whose lives have been transformed by Him. We've had opportunities to be involved in God's work here and meet incredible people He has placed here for such a time as this. We've prayed and worshipped with people from all over the world and been places we never imagined we would see. We've heard the gospel preached in a minimum of four languages here and observed that in each language, amen is still amen! We've worked harder and prayed more than we ever had before. We've faced health issues, including a surgery for David and one also for me. We've had our faith challenged, we've been brought low, and God has lifted us up and strengthened us. 

We are so thankful that God brought us here! We look forward to continuing to serve here as long as God in his generosity and wisdom keeps us here! God has given us a ministry team of incredible, faithful friends that makes it possible for us to be here by praying for us and financially supporting our ministry with MAF.

Now, for a little fun to mark our celebration. The Mitendi Center has been growing food for itself for some time now. They have also acquired a couple new residents:

The female arrived first. She was purchased with the idea to breed her and use the additional pigs as a source of income for feeding and upkeep as well as for food.

Breeding animals is generally much easier to accomplish when you have one of each gender, so a month or so later the male was acquired. They have a bit of growing up to do before they are ready to breed, but the girls at the Mitendi Center are learning to prepare the right kind of food for them, to care for them, and to develop a mindset of investing in their own future.

Last time I looked in on the piggies, I captured this with my phone. I thought it might be fun to ask people to come up with captions for my photo. So, please do comment below! 

Slug Devotion

Look at what I almost stepped on today when I opened my front door. Ew. A little while later, he crawled through the crack under my door and came into the living room for a look-see.

Daniel thought it was cool. When you have a boy, you get to learn things you might not have ever thought you needed to know. Or wanted to. This, for example, is what happens when you touch one of these creatures. When they react this way, they form a suction with the floor, so trying to get one out of the house is like trying to scrape tar off your shoe with a cotton ball.

It gave us an interesting disruption to our day and made me think again about how big that crack under the door is. Whether we have holes in the screens or cracks in the doors, they are openings that allow unwelcome guests into our home. When we have holes in our spiritual armor, they allow entry for unwelcome guests of another sort. Things like anger, fear, envy, etc. We have to spend time with God, study his Word, and exercise our faith to keep our armor in good condition.

Otherwise, we might find ourselves facing something ugly in our life that is difficult to get rid of.

"Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one, and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God," Eph 6:13-17

How do you feel about poo?

Every culture has its sayings and proverbs. Sometimes they are wry or silly, which makes them easier to remember, but they often convey a deeper truth. My newest post, "Just a Little Poo," is a reflection on a Congolese proverb and just went up on the MAF blog. Check it out!

Trusting Truth

I'm a Missouri girl, so I can't think of a better place to be refreshed and renewed than Missouri in spring and early summer. Everything is blooming and the colors are vibrant with newness. Baby birds and animals are everywhere and all around you can see and hear their parents keeping vigil and finding food. Everything smells, well, like spring. It's a balm for the senses and the soul and I loved getting to enjoy the season again.

You would think with all of that newness I would have returned to Congo recharged and ready to go. The reality is that a struggle began in me before I left the states and followed me here. It didn't help that I was sick the last three of my four weeks home. That wears on a person. Missionary life has made me more acutely aware that every moment with a loved one, every walk down a favorite path, every routine activity we so often take for granted could be the last, so you better savor it. 

I didn't want to just savor the moments. I wanted to keep them. Watching my kids interacting with their cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents reminded me of all they miss when we are away. My first-born went off to college at 18 and for two years he was the only one in our immediate family on U.S. soil. When breaks and summers came and other students went home, his "home" was 7,000 miles away and unreachable. He had places he could go stay, but they weren't "home." Now my daughter is in the same predicament. My youngest struggles with isolation and life without electricity most of the time and he can't even get packages from his grandparents. 

I felt like I had cheated my children. 

Feelings cannot alway be trusted, though, and I know that. How I feel can be affected and manipulated by many things but Truth never changes. The truth is that God is our Shepherd and takes care of us as a shepherd cares for his flock.  A shepherd safely leads his flock to where they need to be to find nourishment and rest to grow strong and healthy. He carries the weak ones and the littlest ones because he knows how fragile they are and how hard the path is. God knows the path ahead of my kids and He's got them in his arms. A shepherd leads the mamas in his flock with gentleness. He knows my feelings and doesn't disregard them, but gently beckons me to trust Him. To trust Truth. 

"He tends his flocks like a shepherd: 

he gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; 

he gently leads those that have young." 

Isaiah 40:11

Combining Cultures in the Kitchen

I see salted fish, (as in fish that has had a ton of salt rubbed into it and been dried for preservation) in the stores here all the time. It is sold in bags by the kilo. In a country where only a minority have refrigeration or freezers, dried fish keeps for months and by cooking it in stews, greens, and sauces, a little bit can be made to go a long way toward feeding a family. I have had it on occasion and liked it but avoided purchasing it because I didn't know how to prepare it. 

Last week I bit the bullet, or the fish, and bought some. Then I asked about a dozen friends how to cook it and got almost as many answers. All agreed on one thing: soak the fish, soak the fish, soak the fish. Then soak it some more. This is how you remove enough of the salt to make the fish edible. 

Out of the package, it looks like this.

It doesn't look like it came from a Gorton's box, that's for certain.

Not very appetizing if you have anything against skin, gills, fins, tails, bones, or...

...teeth.

Just to really get into the spirit of cooking with an African flair and dressing the part, I had to put on my zebra print apron. Sorry for the quality. I don't take a lot of selfies. Other folks are much more interesting. And yes, I meant to cut my head off.

I soaked the fish all day, changing the water a couple of times. 

Then I considered all my options and decided that the easiest choice would be to simply remove as many bones as possible, season it, and saute it, so that is what I did. It is common here to just cook it into your greens, but I knew if I did that I would be eating by myself.

We had b'teku teku, fried plantain, rice, and avocado to go with our fish. (My b'teku teku explanation and recipe are HERE.) Was it tasty? Yes, but it did not need salt.

Then on Saturday I made  good 'ole American cinnamon bread so we would have it for breakfast on Sunday. I am glad I did and that we had some left over because when we arrived home from church, our guard had a surprise for us: three of his kids were here for a visit! We gave them cinnamon bread and Fantas to go with the lunch Leopold had prepared for them and Daniel played soccer with the boys for a while.   

They were here because the youngest had been born just six weeks after we first arrived in Congo and had been named after David, so Leopold wanted them to meet each other. It is common here to name a baby after a life-changing person or event that happens near the same time as the birth, and getting a new job is a big deal in Congo. Both of our guards have sons named after David now.

Stopping to Smell the Ginger

Hawaiian ginger growing in my yard

Some highlights and events I experienced since my last post:

My Hawaiian ginger bloomed in the yard. They smell amazing! I know my guards think I am crazy, for lots of reasons, one being that when the ginger blooms every couple of months, I go around the yard smelling all the blossoms and taking pictures like I've never seen it before. I pretty well cemented that notion when I picked some one day and told my guard to smell it. Ha, ha, ha, you should have seen his expression! But he did smell it, and he did admit it smelled nice. 

I went back to the Mitendi Center and the Bandal Center with Jill. This young lady is making a table cloth to fill a customer order - mine! I can't wait to get my new table cloth and contrasting napkins. 

I am praying and giving thought to how God might want to involve me with the centers and these young women.



David and I both had birthdays, so our family went out for dinner one evening. Our conversation over dinner turned to Daniel's schooling and Daniel told his dad we were studying the Great Migration. Being a humble home educator, I decided to show off Daniel's knowledge and asked him to tell his dad the difference between migration and immigration. He replied that migration is when you move some where and immigration is when you water your crops. I am a great teacher.  

David had to go to Europe for a week for training on one of our engines. While he was gone, I visited with some friends, though not as many as I had planned to. I also wrote a post for the MAF blog (coming soon), worked on our newsletter (also coming soon), and cleaned out my email boxes. In one box, I am ashamed to say, I had mail dating back to 2008. I didn't completely finish the job because I kept finding good stuff to read in there. Kind of like when you start cleaning a closet and you find old photos you forgot you had and you are compelled to stop everything and look through them. I am glad I did. I found letters from dear friends who have been praying for us since we first signed on with MAF, before we even knew where we were going to end up serving. They are still praying for us! It was very encouraging to come across that reminder and it meant so much to me that I had to write to them and tell them.

My friend Christine has a little apartment and invited Daniel and me to stay there and be part of their family while David was gone. It was nice to have air-conditioning almost the entire time and to get to spend some time with her. We had been missing each other since I don't have a car and no longer live close enough to walk to her house.

When I arrived home, we found this little guy (or gal?) hiding in our electric box.

Our electric box is not exactly the safest playground for a kitten, so we shooed him out and blocked the door to keep him out. I asked our guard where he came from since we have eight foot walls around our house. He said the mother cat carried five kittens over the wall, one at a time, so that they could all eat my cat's food, which was on the porch during my absence. She had taken four of them back and left this little one. She came back for him a few hours later. Glad I could help out that tired momma for a few days.

What Time Is It?

Sew this page ( p. 83) - Result 1 (Photo credit: atibens)

Sewing tools (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

"a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;" (Ecclesiastes 3:7) 

This week I have experienced all of those. 

A time to speak: I had to talk to my kids about the consequences of procrastination and doing things half-heartedly. That's not the kind of speaking I enjoy but there are definitely times for it. There were also times for praise and encouragment. I went to my daughter's last school pep rally and got to see her play in the band and perform with the show choir. She had a solo and her microphone failed but she kept on going. Youngest has recently exercised a lot of patience and self-control for one his age so I got to praise him for that. Good times.

A time to keep silence. We are in a busy time right now that mostly revolves around our senior's end of year activities and around goodbyes. Last night our church had a party for the seniors in the youth group and each senior in turn had family and friends gather around them to pray for them. I had to let someone else pray for Emily. I couldn't speak my prayer out loud. It was too personal and I knew if I tried I would lose it in front of everybody. 

A time to sew. I wrote a couple of posts ago that I was going to clean my sewing machine and pack it away until we come back from furlough. I lied. I saw a pattern on the internet for a toiletry bag and had to try to make one. It was supposed to be a cosmetic bag for Emily but it turned out kind of masculine looking. That's ok. I have boys too.

I started with these tutorials: Plaid Scottie's Box Pouch and Skip To My Lou's Boxy Cosmetic Bag, combining elements I liked from each.

and with this. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? If you want to sew a toiletry bag, you first need a vinyl, asymetrical apron with no strings. Here's the thing. There is no Walmart, Michael's, Hobby Lobby, Hancock, or JoAnn here. No place where I can go to buy things like heavy weight interfacing or fusible vinyl. So I had to improvise in order to come up with a spill proof lining. All I could find that came close to what I needed was this apron.

I did have some medium weight interfacing, which I ironed on to the fabric. It helped but not as much as I had hoped it would.

Like the fabric? I bought it from TASOK a couple years ago when my son was still going there and they had their 50th anniversary. It was designed by the students!

You are not supposed to sew when you are tired. But since that would mean no sewing for the entire 25 or 30 years of child-rearing and I am not a patient person....

See anything wrong here? That's right. The zipper is inside out. I sewed when I was tired. This is what the Bible calls "a time to tear." And that cheapo blue vinyl LOVED my seam ripper. Not. Had to cut some new pieces of vinyl.

I did finally get these made. They aren't as sturdy as I would like but they are cute. And the zippers are right side out.

Dirty Jobs: Kinshasa

crosstown traffic (Photo credit: FredR)

People in Kinshasa make their living in varied and resourceful ways. By far one of the toughest jobs I see people doing on a daily basis is the job of the pus pus. If Mike Rowe came to Kinshasa to film an episode of “Dirty Jobs,” he might very well spend a day with a pus pus. In Lingala, “kopusa” means, “to push”, and a “pus pus” (poos poos) is a cart with two wheels and handles on both ends. For a fee, a man with a pus pus will come and transport items for you from one place to another. If it fits in the cart or can be tied to it, they will haul it. It’s a hot, hard, dirty, and dangerous job. Nine months out of the year the temperature averages upper nineties by midday. There are a lot of hills in Kinshasa, and very few sidewalks, so these guys are forced to push their carts in the streets. They can’t go very quickly and traffic is terrible. I have seen one get hit by a car and the driver just kept on going.

What sorts of things ride around town in a pus pus? Some cargo we have seen:

Garbage
Scrap iron
Pieces of a car
Tires
Lumber
Firewood
Bags of cement
Gravel
Furniture
Plants/flowers
Jugs of water
Sheets of tin
Live chickens and goats
A live adult cow (our favorite thus far)

The pus pus is a vital service in a city with a poor infrastructure. I have never seen a U-Haul or a moving van here. You can pay a neighborhood company for basic trash service. The company in our new neighborhood is called VDT or Vie Décente pour Tous (Decent Life for All). For ten dollars, they will give me eight flimsy garbage sacks. If your trash won’t fit into their bags, they won’t take it. Each week they send a tiny flat bed truck which is kind of like a modified three wheeler to collect everyone’s full bags. Where it goes, nobody knows, but if you can't burn it or bury it, that's your only option for trash removal. There are city trash receptacles, but they are few and far between and when the trash gets hauled from them in the big trucks, no one I have asked knows where it goes. There is a small river near my house, lined on both sides with garbage. There are mounds of garbage at the bottom of my hill. Mounds of garbage line the river banks we pass as we drive through the city. I am always hoping that none of that garbage is mine.

Remember this? That was our back porch the day we moved in. There was also stuff about the yard like shower stalls, plumbing parts, and old garbage from the previous tenants. I remember being tired and overwhelmed already with the unpacking, not having water pumped into the house yet, not being able to use a stove, and the work on the house we still had to do and then I saw this and just wanted to cry.

As of this week, my porch looks like this!
(Kudos to my amazing husband who came home exhausted every day and then worked on the big plumbing leak, the outlet with 400 volts, and ran new plumbing and wiring so I could have my washer and dryer close at hand!)

Where did all our garbage go? 

I would bet that even this gentleman doesn't know its final destination. We had to hire him to bring his pus pus cart and haul the big stuff away. I’m sure he thought I was crazy when I went out to shake his hand and say hello, and crazier still when I asked if I could take his picture. It was probably a good thing that I stopped myself short of calling him my hero. 

We paid someone to take the yuck from our home and make it clean. Today I am thankful for a Savior who takes my sin as far as the east is from the west and cleanses my heart. Please say a prayer for all the men and boys in Congo who push the pus pus carts, for their safety and for them to come to know the One who can take their “garbage” and sin away and give them clean hearts.

Make a difference, today!

Last Friday we visited a sanctuary for bonobo apes with some of our home school friends. In the midst of all the horrible stuff that is happening in the east, it was nice to go to a quiet place for a few hours and see some of the beauty that this country also has to offer.

Bonobos are similar to chimpanzees, but their sole natural habitat is here in the Congo, and they are endangered.
This sanctuary offers a safe place for wild bonobos, but also takes in orphans and bonobos rescued from poachers.

"I am the Lorax! I speak for the trees!" 

Ha ha! Seriously, don't these plants look kind of "Dr. Seussish?" We thought they were very cool.

In addition to seeing the bonobos, we enjoyed a long walk and the beautiful plants and flowers that grow here.







That was Friday. I was feeling pretty OK on Friday but Monday I woke up sick. Again. I noticed I was kinda following a pattern, having a day of fever, chills, aching like I had the flu, and then a day or so of feeling better, then sick again, etc - with headaches throughout. So, we are thinking I got malaria. I was skeptical at first since I take a prophylaxis medication. However, when we moved, I missed some doses and we did not have screens on some of the windows for a while. Power was off so the windows were opened to catch a breeze. My family doesn't even wear bug spray if I am in the room because all the bugs flock to me. And that's all it took. I'm on day two of a three-day medication and feeling much better already. My nine day headache is finally gone.

I'm very blessed to have access to good health care, even here in Kinshasa. My family has been vaccinated against all sorts of diseases. I have a box of medications, including malaria treatments, in my closet. I have the means to pay for a trip to the clinic and a car to take me there. Most people here are not so fortunate. Today is "Giving Tuesday." MAF is trying to raise funds to send 100,000 vaccines to children in the Congo who do not have access to good healthcare. A gift of just a few dollars can save dozens of children from suffering from diseases that kill - like measles. Please pray for our Giving Tuesday campaign, which ends today, and all the staff involved in getting these vaccines to the people who need them, from pilots to mechanics to the drug companies to the humanitarian aid and medical missions groups and everyone in between. And consider clicking on my Giving Tuesday button above and donating to this very worthy cause. Continue praying for an end to the conflict in the east and for all the displaced and hurting people there.

The Potty Plant

Last week Emily started with basic white and mixed her own custom paint color for her bedroom. Here’s her new color. The photo doesn’t do it justice. In real life, the walls are darker. Much darker. But she loves it.

She doesn’t have as many choices and freedoms as her peers in the states and this was one area where we could let her have her way. Now she has a space that is truly hers, and she made it that way herself. All that’s left is for her to finish unpacking and decorating. Cool beans!

Emily's room on moving day

Yes, she is indeed stirring the paint with a broken broom handle. When you buy paint here, they do not give you a paint stirring stick thingy. At least at the stores I have been to, they don't sell them either. You use what you've got.

That white door off to the left is a ¾ bath. What teenage girl wouldn’t like to have her own private bathroom that her brothers do not have access to? Moreover, what boy would not be happy if he no longer had to wait for his sister to get out

Emily's room after paint job

of the bathroom? What mom would not be happy to have a little less mess to clean up? Now that she has her own bathroom, she gets to clean it herself. Good practice for college. Her future roommate will thank me one day.

For my introvert daughter, having her own space is a big deal and something she wanted for a long time. She’s had her own room before, so it’s not about privacy. It’s more about “fit.” She needed her room to be an expression of herself, a reflection of her taste and personality - and not just a place to set her suitcase. I totally get that.

We’ve made changes to the rest of the house too. Once Lily recovered from her near death experience of getting spayed in Kinshasa, we took away the litter box and now both cats go outside to do their business. Very nice. No more odor. No more emptying the box.

We’ve added our first house plant. It’s called “snake plant.” If you come visit me, you’ll notice that our snake plant, as well as all future house plants have sharp rocks on the top of their soil. That’s because Lily, still young and new at the whole go-outside-to-do-your-business thing, thinks "potted plant" means “potty plant.” The rocks have been an easy and effective deterrent.

Quitch Yer Caterwaulin!

Lily and Elliot

Lily, our seven month old kitten, is in heat for the first time. She was supposed to have been spayed in August but somehow I kept forgetting to call the vet. She's roaming the house, completely obsessed. Now I know where the term "caterwauling" comes from! Oh my! She is a very petite cat and it is hard to believe the amount of noise she is capable of making. The last two days we've had her crying in the house, at least two males crying on the porch, and the parrot doing a fair imitation of all of them. A regular cat symphony. Thankfully, the vet is coming today for another front porch surgery (see The Vet for explanation).

As I laid in bed at 4:30am listening to the cacophony, in my stupor I began to think about cats, and God, and people. I thought about all the times I have whined to God, cried out to Him or acted self-centered and obsessed. I thought about all the times someone else around me has acted self-centered, or whined, and given me a clear picture of what I must look like when I behave that way. Oy!

When the neighborhood cats are doing their caterwauling on your porch while you are trying to sleep, after a while you lose patience and frustration grows. You want to throw a bucket of water on them or something to make them quiet down.

I'm glad God never says the kind of things to me that I have said to/about my cat (and admittedly, my kids):

"Can you believe it? She's little but boy can she make a ton of noise!"
"Can't you see I'm trying to rest here? Tone it down a little!"
"Aaaaaagh! Stop the whining!"
"Where's my water gun?"
and one I heard when I was a child, possibly from my grandmother: "Quitch yer caterwaulin!"

Two Stories to Every Side

I feel as though a lot more time has gone by since my last post than actually has. In addition to our two cats, our hermit crab, and the chicken that adopted us, our menagerie now includes an African Grey Parrot. That's her in the photo. We don't know why she is almost naked. I do know from having pet birds in the past that a bird that is stressed or bored will over preen and/or pull out its own feathers. The African Grey is a very intelligent species and needs a lot of attention and stimulation to keep them entertained and happy. We plan to buy or make some toys for her cage and spent lots of time nurturing her.

We've learned some interesting things about her already. For one, she bites. Hard. She drew blood her first day here. For another, she likes peanuts. A lot. We've been experimenting with various foods to find out what she likes to eat. So far peanuts are her number one choice, followed by palm nuts, mango, papaya and cabbage. Also, she has quite a repertoire of sounds and at least one comprehensible word: "hello." She can do several whistles, including cat calls, and perfect imitations of the following:

a cat
an owl
the little toy plastic whistles that the police buy and use here
a chicken
a car horn, this was pretty impressive. She totally fooled us.
a person laughing
a magpie, we aren't so impressed with this one
the loud and squeaky wheelbarrow they use everyday on the construction site across the street

We are really hoping that we can find a house and move before she has time to learn how to imitate the neighbor's Guinea fowl, or their constantly crying baby, or their habit of screaming their guard's name loudly.

Speaking of moving, here's an update on our housing situation and a Cool Beans story. After a wonderful week of having power almost constantly, Sunday morning our line went out again. The story from the electric company on Monday was that 25 meters of line was burnt and needed to be replaced. A year ago we paid $75 for three meters, so we figured that to mean it would cost $625 or more. We have to move in less than four weeks, so we told them we could not pay for that. There are other people on the line but it seems like our family is often the only one willing to pay for repairs. We resolved ourselves to having no power until the move.

Fast forward to yesterday. I had caught a stomach bug from David and hadn't been eating, which caused me to wake up with a migraine on top of the nausea. Then I couldn't get the generator to start. I called David and he came home and fixed the generator and took care of Daniel, including making sure he did his school work, so I could go to bed. In the midst of all that the guys from SNEL came and told us their "new assessment" (sound suspicious?) of our power situation.

"That story was for the birds!"

The new verdict was that only ONE meter needed to be replaced and it would cost $100.00. David gave them $20, partly since we knew it was only $20-$25 per meter just last year and partly because it was all we had on hand. He told them that should cover our share and to knock on the other gates if they needed more money. Amazingly, by 6pm we had three phases of electricity for the first time since May. By 7:30 we were down to two again but we were still happy. If it lasts today, we will have made our money back on what we would have spent in generator fuel and we will have had a cold refrigerator, hot water, and a dryer. We are hoping and praying it lasts until we move. I still have a headache today but not a migraine anymore, more of a residual effect that is slowly wearing off. I wanted to share all this because I know lots and lots of you were praying for us yesterday and we could tell. Not only did God take my migraine away and enable David to get the generator running, but He gave us electricity when we thought it was impossible!

Also we MAY have found a house. We are trying to line up a meeting with the landlord and our program manager and work out an arrangement that both parties can agree with. I won't go into details on the house until we know if it's the one. Thanks for praying for us!

Give Me Back My Ziplock Bag (and other things people say in Congo)

The above photo is of our pet chicken.  She literally was washed into our yard by a thunderstorm one night and we couldn't find the owners so we feed her and she stays.  She follows us around like a puppy.  I asked our guard the other day if she ever lays any eggs and he said no.  He said chickens only lay eggs if you feed them "people food." We already were feeding her people food: vegetables and grains.  Unless he meant "people food," as in food made of people.

I often hear people say something funny or absurd and think I’d better write that down or I’ll forget it. That led to a small collection of quotes. These are all statements I have overheard here in Congo. Some were spoken by missionaries and some by nationals. Names of original speakers have been withheld to protect the guilty and/or clueless.

Most of these are just funny, especially if you don’t know the context from which they were spoken and just overhear them from another room:

“I have to speak slowly when I talk to myself.” (my favorite)

“Don’t lick those wires.”

“I wet myself every time I do dishes.”

“Do you want your trash bag back?” (used, that is)

Other statements were made in the context of Congo and the life and climate here:

“Wow! That gift is wrapped in REAL wrapping paper.”

“He painted it a couple months ago. We don’t know why it’s sticky.”

“You can have these cinnamon rolls if you give me back my ziplock bag.” (ziplock bags are like gold here)

“Hey, does this smell bad to you, or just nasty?”

Some, though, are serious and reflective rather than funny. Often life here is challenging and exhausting on all levels: physical, spiritual, mental and emotional. We try to make our home a safe place to “vent” and be honest about how we all feel and at the same time hold each other accountable for bad attitudes and encourage each other to press on. These next two quotes came from some of those types of conversations and pretty well sum up why our family is here right now.

“We live in a dung heap!”   “I know we do, that’s why we moved here.”

 “Of course, if you aren’t going to heaven, Kinshasa is a beautiful place to live.  Consider the alternative.”

Steve Camp has a song called “Run to the Battle” that goes like this: “Some people want to live within the sound of chapel bells, but I want to run a mission a yard from the gates of hell.”  The first time I heard that song I knew nothing about Kinshasa or the Democratic Republic of Congo.  This city, the entire country, is definitely a battleground.  I can't say I always wanted to run a mission a yard from hell's gates, but I sure can relate to another line from the same song: "We may not be many, but we serve a mighty Lord!" And I can't even put into words the way this line affects me "look around you as you hesitate, for another soul just fell."  How could I listen to that song and then tell God that I would not suffer a few inconveniences for the sake of those souls? Pray for all of  God's workers here, that we may not hesitate but be always ready to give an answer to everyone who asks us the reason for the hope that we have (I Peter 3:15).