joel marion (dot) blogspot (dot) com
My name is Joel. This is my Blog.

Thursday, August 31, 2006
Photos, finally!
Finally, I managed to get my photos, and scan a few:

These were the orphans we visited. Mama Georgette is third from the right in the back. All the children are holding books that were bought with our donations. The money will also help all of the kids buy uniforms and go to school for the next year.

This beautiful valley is where Georgette (who also has a degree in engineering) is farming fish (back left), and various vegetables and fruit.

A close-up of a few of the orphans. This is (left to right) little Georgette, Kevin, and Jean-Pi. Georgette and Jean-Pi were all smiles, and really liked playing with me on my short visit.

and finally, the pièce de resistance:

Jean-Pierre Bemba's house on fire right before the election. This is the picture (or related story, at least) that prompted my mother to threaten to cross the ocean to lock me in my room. unfortunately, we were driving as I snapped the shot, and the flames were covered by the smoke. Right after this shot a whole buch of ammunition blew up, and the flames shot up thirty feet in the air. The funy thing was, nobody was running away from all the burning ammunition, they were all heading towards it!

I'll try to scan a few more pictures when I get some free time again.

-joel
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
An Excerpt from the Journal
From the morning of July 31, approximately 5:00am, right after leaving the polling station, as we drove through the streets of Kinshasa. The streets were empty. So many buildings were only partly built, or partly demolished, it was hard to tell the progression. Garbage and trashed old cars littered the sides of the road. one or two men huddled around a fire here and there. As often as not there was a fire burning somewhere with no one to claim its warmth, probably a pile of garbage that too had nowhere else to go. The world around me looked broken, destroyed, truly a representation of an unimaginable history.
As we drove along I pulled out my notebook, half aware of what i was doing and scrawled the following:
Returning Home.
Kinshasa at night (asleep)
this is how I imagined the
world would look
after the apocalypse .


...
Friday, August 25, 2006
Safe Return
To all of you who so lovingly followed us in our journey on the DRC election observer mission, I am happy to report that I arrived safely in Winnipeg last night, after a long few days of re-scheduling missed flights. It cost me an extra couple hundred dolars to re-book one of the flights, but with good connections and a lot of patience and sweet-talking negotiations I was quickly back in the relative safety of downtown winnipeg (!). I did have some trouble trying to leave Kinshasa, as the violence around the release of the provisional election results temporarily paralyzed the city and closed the airport on the day I was to leave. Lukily I had the foresight to move to an area of the city much closer to the airport prior to the results being released, and once the airport was opened a couple days later it was a relatively simple task to get to my plane. Michael, on the other hand, remained where we had been staying in the home of an American former missionary. I spoke to him repeatedly throughout the violent last few days that I spent in the country, and he assured me that he was staying safe. He should be returning to Winnipeg in the first week of September.

I you will permit me a brief commentary on the situation in Kinshasa...

There was a general sense amongst the people I was able to talk to that the kind of violence displayed over the last few days was just a part of politics in the Congo. Many had an unreflective (though altogether understandable) cynicism about the entire process, often questioning the legitimacy of the electoral process, and its overall utility in improving the situation there. There was plenty of rhetoric going around about the election being "stolen" or "rigged" (most likely by "white people" - foreigners), and few felt that their vote was actually contributing to much.

This mentality is a compound of many factors, not the least of which is a long history of dictatorship and colonial rule. The high degree of involvement of international forces, coupled with minimal access to information and knowledge on the transition process and democracy, and crippling levels of illiteracy, result in a population highly susceptible to propaganda and rumors, all of which are manipulated for political motives.

Much of the resignation can be attributed to the political and socio-economic situation in Kinshasa, particularly in its differentiation from the rest of the country. With a high degree of support from the Eastern provinces, incumbent president Joseph Kabila, who originates in the East, is viewed as an unwelcome outsider by many Kinois (people of Kinshasa). His 44% showing in the first of two rounds of voting clearly upset the majority of Kinois (still a minority in the country) who perceive him as representing outside interests (especially those of the US) more than those of the (Kinois) Congolese. In contrast, the Eastern provinces see him as the man who stopped (or at least slowed down) the war, and brought democratic elections to the country. These factors surely played a part in Monday and Tuesday's violence, fueling a population that has, for at least the last decade, only known violence as a means of resolving political problems.

But these outbursts of violence must be seen in a larger context. That context includes over a decade of fighting, almost no legitimate, functioning government, and certainly no government that could be said to be held accountable to its people. As the Congolese people slowly find their footing in this new political landscape, we can expect a few stumbles and missteps along the way. Though we should hardly take them as signs of a collapse in the long-term goal of building a lasting peace and Democracy. I am extremely grateful to all those that made it possible for me to hold their hand for a small step in that journey, and I will continue to support my Congolese brothers and sisters in whatever constructive ways I can.

Keep your eyes on the news, and the occasional commentary on my blog , as well as a new blog I am developing in partnership with a group of Congolese students at <>. This blog is still under construction and is at the moment very preliminary (and in fact does not yet contain any content), but it will eventually be a forum for student commentaries on issues ranging from peace, development, democracy, rights, conflict (and its resolution), poverty, and the Congo in general. If you would like to be updated on the development of this or other related projects please let me know and I'll put you on a list (which I promise will only be emails related strictly to these projects).

Thanks again to all for the kind words of encouragement! In addition to more kind words (and even constructive criticisms), financial contributions are also still welcome, as I now have to figure out how to pay for this effort while still being a student ;).

cheers,

-joel
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Crazy Travel
on an internet Kiosk at Heathrow now, so I apologize for the brevity...
a quick update:
Kinshasa closed down completely Sunday at release of election results. Apparently Candidate JP Bemba's military (MLC) surrouded and sieged electoral commission HQ right prior to release of provisional results. FARDC (Congo military) responded, exchaged fire, at least six dead. MONUC (UN) showed up, rescued electoral commission staff and escorted them to TV station to release reults 3 hrs late. later, President Kabila's presidentia guard besieged Bemba's house with heavy cannon fire and automatic weapons. At leas half a dozen foreign diplomats inside. Later, cease-fire agreed between both men.
Both Kabila and Bemba will continue to a secnd-round elction, Oct 29, as neither gained th 50% needed to avoid a runoff.
All of kinshasa remained CLOSED monday and tuesday as pockets of fighting reported in the streets. Airport closed Tues, so I missed my flight. A later flight Wed, delayed till late in the day. Arrived in Nairobi late, and tried to get on connecting flight to London, but was told it was full. did some pleading,but told to come back tomorrow. Went to the gate anyways and begged for a seat, was told no. Stayed there till the plane was about to leave, then suddenly they found one seat. Ran for the plane, and got on just before they shut the door... the only seat left was in business class - First Class. Oh Yeah, struck gold. Great food, free drinks, and a huge seat that laid back all the way to become a full bed. What a comfortable flight!
I'm in Lndon now, trying to get on a flight to T.O., might catch a corresponding flight back to WPG, and be home by Friday, if I'm lucky. that would mean I started travelling Tues night (WPG time) and will be in transit till Friday. Ouch.
I'm safe and healthy, though, having avoided all the violence (met a woman who got hit in the leg by a stray bullet while in her house!). Be home soon!

-joel
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Under the Radar
Nearing the end of my stay here in Kin, and it's time to disappear for a bit before the trip home. Today I will be having the lesson with Papa Commandant at the National Music School, then I will be going to Georgette's orphanage for a couple days. After that I'll be back with the family that took me in when I first arrived for my last few days. I don't expect to have internet access until I get home, so this may be the last blog entry from Kinshasa.
I was supposed to have my class with Papa Commandant last Saturday, but ended up getting a bit sick (Shhh!, don't tell my mom!), and so we re-scheduled for today. Hopefully, if all goes well, Papa has organized for a few drum builders to come and meet me, and show me their wares. My hope is to pick up a drum today, so wish me luck!
Once I get back I hope to offer up some samples of the journal entries I wrote while here, as a lot of them have pretty interesting and funny stories. It had been my hope to have slightly more regular internet access, but it's been pretty good anyways.
...
Yesterday was the last day of classes for our little seminar, and I made a promise to some of the students that I would help them build a blog for Congolese students to share their voice on the world wide web. I figure I'll squeeze that project in somewhere between naps and the child soldier conference (and work, of course), as I'm getting ready for the next school year. If any of you out there have skills or expertise in this field please let me know, I would be glad to have more volunteers on board to help develop this new project!
...
Well, that's about all for me now, I should finish this entry before the diesel generator dies and takes my blog with it! Cheers all, and wish me well on my trip home!

-joel
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Professor Joel
I told them not to call me that... I told them I'm a student to, but thre is a strong adhesion to custom here, and if you teach someone you must be ecalled professor. "Professor Joel," they say, "the conflict in the Congo is a very comlicated one, how do all these big ideas of conflict resolution apply to us?" ... hmm...
Sitting here, at the end of day five of six, teaching the esential principles of conflict resolution, human rights, and democracy, I try to explain to the estudents that there are no easy answers. What we've tried to uphold throughout this brief seminar is the fact that these idea are just tools, ideas that they might be able to use to better understand the conflict that surrounds them. I don't have all the answers. I don't pretend to know how to fix the Congo's problems. But maybe today I inspired somebody to take a stronger interest in human rights, in participatory democracy, that maybe one day he might do s0mething to change his country in a positive way(I say he because so far we've had only two female students, neither of which stayed for the whole course).
Today I presentd my lecture on "Rights and Democracy, Democracy and Rights." I tried to offer the students an idea of how rights might play a role in their life. Many of them didn't know how directly their new Constitution, adopted only nine months ago, borrows from the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. And so I gave a few examples of how their constitution borrows the exact wording of the declaration. I explained to them some of the charateristics of democracy, and asked them whether or not they flt that these are present in the Congo today. Of course they're not all here. I hope I stressed the point that democracy is a process, not a tat of affairs; that it need sconstant attntion and nourishment if it is to flourish. And continuing the metaphor that has dominated this fragile election period, I stressed that now, with democracy in its birth, what is needed is a great deal of nourishment and encouragment to help this new child grow into something strong and healthy.
The response has been pretty good. I have to admit, I got a little excited at the end of my lecture as I explained to these students, to my Congolese brothers (and today, one sister), that this new democracy is in their hands, that it's up to them to help it grow. I think I caught in their eyes the realization that the responsibility for the Congo's future lies not only in the hands of those in power, but that the Congolese themselves play an integral role.
I heard more than once a frustrated, yet hopeful comment: "What the Congo needs is more seeminars like this!" ... I agree. But alas, my plane ticket is booked, and no one is (yet) willing to pay for even this short trip, let alone the time it would take to stick around and try to foster more of this kind of learning.
I have been speaking with a few of the student leaders here, and I will be working with them, even after I leave, to develop ideas for the improvement of this fine country. I suggested (not realizing that in doing so I had committed myelf) that I could help set up a blog for some Congolese students to share their ideas online (keep your eyes peeled, it will happen). I am also meeting with some of these same students on Thursday to hear a bit more of their stories, and explor some more ways we can help each other in the future. ... We'll see what that brings!

-joel
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Mental Exhaustion, Drumming, and Orphans
Settling into evening here, and I can't get over how burnt out I feel. I knew it would be challenging, but I didn't think I would be this exhausted. Today was my first of six days as John's assistant and translator for our seminar on conflict resolution here at U.C.-KIN (université Chretien de Kinshasa).

In what I have come to know as "standard Congo time" (due usually to minimal planning and poor transportation), we started our first class about an hour late. But by the end of the class I was thankful for that extra hour. I was even more thankful for John's patient, conscious effort to speak slowly, clearly, and using words that I could easily translate.

Thankfully we had worked for a few hours last night at translating some of the more complex ideas, just as we did again tonight, so that I would already have the key terms. But even with this level of preparation I found myself straining mentally to maintain a decent flow, loud enough voice, coherent pronunciation, and an accurate transmission of the message being taught.

Wow, what an experience. I have to say, I'm glad I've been using my french as much as I have in the last couple of weeks, particularly in translating the somewhat more technical language of elections and election monitoring, in addition to being the quasi-official translator of the Winnipeg group of international observers.

Conversationally I can say that I have improved significantly since leaving Winnipeg... that said, my french is still pretty bad. There's nothing quite like that pained look of desperation on my listener's face when either my pronunciation or choice of words has completely failed to convey anything intelligible. Luckily (as long as they weren't all being excessively polite to their visiting instructor) everyone seems to have understood me today.

Tomorrow we continue the first of two sections, developing some more concepts of interpersonal conflict, which we will finish up on Friday. Next week is when I get my real challence, as I will be teaching a session on my own on human rights. Hardly the expert, I will try to draw on my knowledge to provide at least a basic understanding of a topic far to broad to be covered in a small portion of an even smaller seminar.

...

As for other plans...

I met with the administration of the national music school (just walk in, it's that easy!) who put me in contact with the head of their drumming department, and on Saturday I will be studying traditional drumming under the Congo's top drum instructor, Papa Commandante (!). He assures me that he will help me find a great drum to take home to Canada although (he sounded concerned) it might cost as much as thirty-five dollars. I think I can live with that. So, as I promised myself, I have found not only a drum teacher, but the head of the national music school's drum program to teach me, AND I will soon have my own Congolese drum.

and Finally...


Tying up the end of my trip, I have about five days to myself, or with Michael, after John and his wife Nel leave us, and I've been pondering what to do with this time. Originally I had been planning on finding my way over to Mozambique to visit Jared, but this is seeming more and more difficult, and so less likely (sorry Jared, still trying, though). I have, however, started to work out a plan B.

Last week we met an absolutely amazing woman named Georgette who runs an orphanage with 54 children, with absolutely no outside help. We went down to the orphanage to meet with the children and to see their home, and I fought back the tears from the moment we drove up.

as we left the van we heard the joyous sounds of a gaggle of children singing loudly and cheerfully. Much of it was in Lingala (the local language), but some words we could make out, borrowed from French. Much of what I heard were songs of hope, and faith, and belief in Jesus and his power and such. To hear these hopeful, happy songs coming from these children shook me. To look at them I felt a horrible guilt, as if I'd just stepped in to a World Vision commercial; but instead of some sad-looking celebrity asking for my money, all I saw were happy children singing, and welcoming us to their home.

I commented to Georgette that the children have so much spirit, that it's more than I see in most people anywhere I go. "Oh... Well," she said, "they're usually more energetic, but they haven't eaten today."
(Gulp)
Well... with some of my remaining time I was thinking of volunteering some of my time to help Georgette and the kids, even if it's just as simple as helping them carry water on the half-hour trek they make every day. Maybe I can play with the kids, help with some cooking, or cleaning. I don't really know, but I can't imagine one woman working with 54 children is short on things I can do to help.

We'll see if that pans out. I'll keep you posted.

-joel
Monday, August 07, 2006
Please Read this Article
Source: AlertNet <http://www.alertnet.org/thefacts/reliefresources/11543667341.htm>
Ellen Otzen finds out what Congo's first free election in decades means to people in the resource-rich southeastern province of Katanga.

August 2, 2006

Africa is shaped like a revolver and the trigger is in the Congo, Caribbean anti-colonial writer Frantz Fanon said in the 1950s. There's still some truth in that image, I find out this morning when I hitch a ride with two election observers from neighbouring Tanzania.
...

[Read the Rest of the Article]
A Nation Holds it's Breath
One week after it's historic elections, the Democratic Republic of Congo nervously awaits the results. A lot is riding on these elections: a nation's hopes and fears for what the future might hold in this war-ravaged country. Up to this point I have been reluctant to talk too much about the elections, partly because of the explosive potential of speculation, and partly because my personal experience is limited to the region I observed. IF you read the article I pasted below about the east-west divisions you have a bit of an idea of the tension growing here. This morning I heard that the CEI(independent electoral commission) might be publishing some partial, provisional results very soon. This worries me, because many people will hold on to these results as gospel, rather than wait for the final total. There is a strong divide between Bemba's people who have strong support in Kinshasa, and Kabila's people, who are stronger in the east. Recent speculation is that these two will make it to the runoff election in October (I think), but We won't know until the full results are announced.
I had a chance to visit a compilation centre, one of the many centralized offices where totals from the region's polling stations are gathered. Wow. what chaos. Or so it seemed. All I saw were stacks and stacks of ballots, papers, reports, garbage, more garbage, and what looked like a whole lot of confusion. At one point I saw what must have been a million ballots thrown into piles against the side of a building. Now of course, it is important to remember that the Congolese do everything outside, so the fact that the ballots were being gathered outside isn't necessarily a problem. And what looked to me like a ridiculously disorganized mess was (apparently) a well organized piling system. As I made my way around the rest of the centre I saw the computers where each voting centre's results were compiled and entered into computers, and then those results were printed, manually verified against the original reports, and then compiled into a regional tally sheet. The reports themselves, covering polling station stats, vote allocation, results and the like, were put into about seven or eight black envelopes per polling station. I entered on of the warehouses at the compilation centre and saw a sea of black envelopes all over the floor, and was completely overcome by shock. I stood there in awe of the grandeur of the task, very thankful that I personally did not have to sort out this mess. But, in true Congolese style, not even an hour later I came back to the same warehouse to find that the majority of the pile had been neatly organized into groups, sorted, and sent to the appropriate offices in the centre.
This experience showed me just how dedicated these elections officials are to this process. No matter how big the task they all seem to just dig in, and work away at it bit by bit. It reminds me of election night, when everyone was litterally falling asleep (I watched one counter's head drop onto his arms between counted ballots), yet everyone picked themselves up and trudges on. and so this process continues, despite the odds, despite the naysayers and spoilers, with a whole lot of hope that the future will be different, that the Congolese will have their own government some day real soon. Then the real work begins -- rebuilding this destroyed country.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Ah, the Smell of Burning Garbage in the Morning
If there's one comparison I make the most often between the Congo and Thailand it's the garbage. More specifically, it's the smell of burning garbage that hangs in the air, morning noon and night. I've been told this is a common smell for many developing countries with no means of garbage removal - what else can you do but burn it? And so, thick in the air hangs this smoke that varies from a leafy bad-cigarette smell to a nauseating toxic plastics smell, depending on the day. And what a way to wake up in the morning to that dense smog made up of this and the result of eight million people living and driving in a city with no regulations whatsoever on vehicular emissions (just imagine what it's like to get stuck in a six-block long traffic jam behing a five-ton diesel truck with no muffler and an oil leak in the engine -- mmm, I think one just drove by my window). I've decided that were it not for the cost of cigarettes in Canada I might as well start smoking when I get home, just to balance out my daily intake of toxins in Kinshasa. And Hey, maybe I should start smoking here -- at least I'd get my poisons through a filter!
Congo election shows worrying East-West divide
Congo election shows worrying East-West divide

By David Lewis
Reuters
Friday, August 4, 2006; 11:35 AM

KINSHASA (Reuters) - Far from unifying the war-ravaged Democratic Republic of Congo, Sunday's historic elections have highlighted the deep division between the east and west of the vast former Belgian colony.

The July 30th polls were meant to heal wounds after a brutal 1998-2003 war which tore apart Congo's aging infrastructure and killed four million people, mostly from hunger and disease.

Results are still weeks away but indicators point to a landslide victory for President Joseph Kabila in his native Swahili-speaking east while former rebel and Vice-President Jean-Pierre Bemba is ahead in the west, where Lingala is spoken.

"The DR Congo Cut In Two" read a headline in Le Phare, a Kinshasa daily.

Diplomats and analysts warned the trend could encourage politicians to exploit ethnic differences and make the central African state ungovernable for whoever wins the presidency.

"There is nothing that new in this phenomenon. What has happened is that the election has crystallized and quantified this divide," said Bob Kabamba, a Congolese politics professor.

"The fear I have is that it could undermine the legitimacy of whoever wins. People will either say 'he is a president for the East' or 'he is a president for the West'."

Power shifts in the turbulent mineral-rich country's history can be charted along ethnic and linguistic lines.

Belgian colonial administrators ensured Lingala, from the west, became the language of power and the army. The trend continued under the late dictator Mobutu Sese Seko, who came from the northwestern province of Equateur.

But the tables were turned when Laurent Kabila, Joseph's father, marched across the former Zaire from the east, accompanied by a band of Swahili-speaking child soldiers who helped him overthrow Mobutu in 1997.

BRANDED A "FOREIGNER"

The current Kabila -- who came to power when his father was shot dead in 2001 -- remains favorite to win the elections even though he has struggled to win the support of the Lingala-speaking capital, where many see him is a foreigner.

During his final campaign rally, Kabila spoke through an interpreter. Bemba, on the other hand, has campaigned strongly on nationalistic lines, calling himself the "son of the nation."

If neither candidate wins more than fifty percent of the vote, there will be a run-off on October 29.

With so much at stake, analysts warn of problems ahead if that occurs. Already in the first round, debates often centered on ethnic and nationalist issues rather than policies.

"A second round, if it is fought along these lines, would be even dirtier and more divisive for the country," said Jason Stearns, analyst at the International Crisis Group think-tank.

Diplomats, meanwhile, express hope parliamentary elections, also held on Sunday, will help provide a balance of powers between the east and the west.

Despite threats of violence in the east and riots in the capital, polling day went relatively well. The days following the polls, however, have been marked by complaints and embittered threats of challenges to the results.

Ahead of the ballot, the EU deployed some 1,000 soldiers to support the U.N.'s 17,000 blue helmets already in the country.

But many have seen this as an attempt to ensure the international community gets the result it wants from an election that has cost it over $450 million. Two of Kabila's closest rivals have accused foreign powers of being partial.

"If Kabila wins, I see a lot of noise and a lot of people will try and weaken his power, but that is part of the process," one Western diplomat told Reuters.

© 2006 Reuters
Friday, August 04, 2006
A Good article on the Democratic Transition

"Struggle for a Functioning Congo"
Jason Stearns and Michela Wrong

4 August 2006
Financial Times


http://www.crisisgroup.org/home/index.cfm?id=4315
Beginning Phase Two
Just a quick note this morning, as I prepare to go out for the day. As of yesterday we've started working on the second phase of my Congo experience: teaching at the Christian University of Kinshasa (Université Chrètien du Kinshasa, or UCKIN;). John, Michael and I have been working out a syllabus for our short seminar, and this morning we'll be sorting out the final details of exactly what we'll be teaching. One of my biggest tasks is to take all the material we'll be covering (quite a bit, for such a short course), and translating it all into French. See, somehow I decided it would be a good idea not only to teach Conflict Resolution with John, but to be his translator, too. So, I have to try to link all the material to my limited vocabulary, then try to adapt it all to Congolese cultural context. We'll be teaching interpersonal conflict stuff next Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, then the following Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday we'll be covering Global Conflict. Michael has agreed to assist with some English as a second (or third or fourth) language courses, as well as teaching a couple short classes on Children and War, and Refugees and War.
...
My ride has just arrived, so it is now time to meet the administration of UCKIN... wish me luck.
-joel
Thursday, August 03, 2006
an encounter with Kinshasa police
As seems common in Kinshasa, you never really know what's going to happen next until it starts happening... This morning I learned that a friend of mine (who shall remain anonymous), was going to Gombe Cemetary to visit a group of homeless sex trade workers to hear their story and offer them some encouragement, maybe some hope. After that the plan was to visit the Grand Marché, "that place that everyone has to see before leaving Kinshasa," and some bird sanctuary which was also apparently an amazing sight.

We started at Gombe Cemetary where my friend decided it would be best if she went in alone so my male presence wouldn't change the dynamic of her conversation with the women. She quickly returned, telling me that a group of men started following her as soon as she went into the cemetary, and she wanted her "husband" (a convenient lie) to protect her. We went into the middle of an amazing labyrinth of tombs and graves of all shapes and sizes squished together in the closest of quarters -- equally crowded in death as the life they must have lived in the overpopulated Kinshasa. There we found a couple of women working, cleaning grave sites. They informed us that the local police had scared the women out of the cemetary last year, and that they had moved just outside of the site; we could be shown where they are if we offer some "assistance" to our guides. Thanks but no thanks, came the reply, we're here to talk earnestly with these women, not pay our way around a cemetary, we'll be leaving now. As with most bartering in Kin, we got our directions, and our guide was quietly slipped a few hundred francs (maybe 50 cents) outside of the view of his cohorts.

Just beyond the wall to the east of the cemetary we found a group of women cooking and doing laundry along the side of the road. My friend made her way over to them, and I stood back a bit and watched. They talked, and gathered, and seemed to be having a decent conversation when I noticed a couple of soldiers walking down the street. Now this is not abnormal in Kinshasa. Soldiers and police regularly stroll about carrying AK-47s and Uzis, so I didn't worry too much. sure enough they turned the corner and let us be. Then one of my new friends informed me that there was a plainclothes general standing under a tree watching us. I carefully watched back.

As I soon garnered a small collection of new friends, curious what this "white" is doing in their neighbourhood, I found myself making a genuine connection to these men and boys. "please don't think all white people are here to rig your elections and steal your country's resources," I told them. "I'm just an independant student who wanted to contribute to your elections process. Oh, and I'm Canadian, not American. I hope that helped.

As our two conversations went on we heard a man approaching from within the cemetary, yelling something in Lingala (the local dominant language, moreso than French), via megaphone. With some horrible translation from my new friends I got the sense we weren't welcome anymore. Corralling my colleauge we started to leave, but he was between us and the end of the street we needed to exit. "where are your papers?" he asked. "you want our passports? Why, have we done something wrong?" Well, according to this particuar policeman we needed permission to talk to people on the street. Now, whether this was because they were homeless sex trade workers, because they had already been kicked out of his cemetary, or because he felt like trying his hand at a little mid-morning extortion, I can't be sure. But we had broken his rule, and he wasn't happy. Thanks to the glorious cell phone revolution (which has completely swept Kinshasa) she was already dialling the Canadian embassy and asking the police oficer's name as she calmly handed him her passport. Voices got louder, and what had been only a partial, weakly translated disagreement quickly turned into an unproductive three language shouting match. Not particularly impressed with the way things were going I offered a half-hearted apology to the police officer (I don't think he could sense my cynicism): we didn't know we needed permission to talk to people on the street. I offered that perhaps we could discuss this paperwork he wanted us to fill out (place your bets, do you think the paperwork actually existed?), or maybe we should just leave. Clearly outnumbered by the solidarity of our new friends and a creative argument that he evidently did not expect, the officer backed down. In a classical authoritative style he built up his escape-plan opportunity to save face; not one to pass up an opening, however subtly presented, I accepted his invitation to return to our car to get "the rest of our paperwork." After an incongruous handshake of thanks (everybody shakes hands for absolutely everything here), we left without acknowledging the fact that everyone knew we weren't coming back.

Now maybe it's just me, but I was totally fine with this encounter. I didn't really feel like there was any major risk of the situation escalating, and the police officer didn't really seem convinced of his own approach. See, everything in Kinshasa is a negotiation. If you want to buy something you barter. If you want to drive through a crowded major intersection you yell to the traffic cop to give you a break (oh yeah, no traffice lights in a city of 8 million. Have I mentionned that the streets of Kinshasa are chaos?).

Even yesterday a soldier was lounging next to the little street vendor stall where I bought minutes for my supervisor's cell phone; Buy me some cigarettes," he said, cradling his AK. "pardon me?" ... "Buy me a cigarette." "smoking's bad for your health," I said, laughing. He laughed back. I walked away. It was the same story last night outside the rooftop purple bar when a man with an AK47 asked me to buy him a drink. Now don't think I'm a total fool, I know when I'm being asked and when I'm being told. But when the guy is relaxed, his gun is loosly draped across his arms, and his request comes across as more of a plea than a demand, I realize our interaction has more to do with poverty than power.

It seems to me that so many people enter these types of encounters with a preconceived notion of how things are going to go, and who these "crazy gunmen" really are. They seem to forget that behind the uniform and the weapon is a human being struggling to survive the staggering conditions of a crippled city. If you want a fight you'll get a fight. But when I'm his brother, just trying to understand this hell as much as he is, there's really no point in getting violent. Of course, I'm still doing my best to stay out of trouble. I won't be visiting Gombe Cemetary any more, but I will be looking all those soldiers in the eye and praying that they understand that I see a human behind those eyes.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
DRC Living up to its Name

This past Sunday I had the honour of bearing witness to the historical birth of the new truly Democratic Republic of Congo. After a 46 year struggle with dictatorship, povery, and war, the Congolese people finally claimed the chance to shape their own future. Although our team of observers noted numerous iregularities and difficulties in the process, these were clearly understood to be growing pains more so than fraud or manipulation. I should carefully premise my comments with the clause that I speak only for myself and not on behalf of the institution that invited me. It is especially important to keep in mind that I only observed 33 polling stations out of more than 49,000 all over this vast country. Truly, a full evaluation of this election should come from the whole of the observer community, and should be held in a conscious recognition of the complicating factors at play.

This was not an easy election to pull off. In a country roughly the size of Western Europe, with less than 200 kilometers of paved roads (most of them in Kinshasa), over 25 Million registered voters, 33 Presidential Candidates, 9,709 Legislative candidates, and 46 years without an election, this accomplishment is truly a piece of history. From what I understand this is the most complicted electoral assistance mission the UN has ever undertaken. The ballots were the largest electoral ballots in history. In the district I observed (Limete), the Legislative ballot had 851 candidates on it, spread over SIX (6) MASSIVE PAGES!! Try to imagine what the vote count was like...

We started the day at 4:00am with a light breakfast, and by 5:00 were at our headquarters where we divided off into communities with our supervisors and drivers. Though I was told that I would be teamed up with three Congolese National observers I never actually met them (if they ever even existed). My supervisor/driver took me to the voting centre in what can only be described as the worst vehicle in the world that by the grace of God alone somehow managed to get us through the treacherous maze of gigantic potholes and unmarked streets that is Kinshasa. As an illustration, the vehicle sounded like it made up its own prayers when it tried (and tried, and tried) to start, and the windshield had long ago been smashed, but was held together still by enough tape to keep it from caving in on me.

I arrived at the polling centre just after 6:30am, and none of the 33 polling stations therein had opened yet. I did a quick survey of the stations until one really caught my eye. As I peeked my head into one of the stations, the "president" (one of the five electoral officials' titles) had her hand in the ballot box, and was holding two or three ballots. The look of panic on her faced was matched only by her quick comment: "Oh! We (the polling station staff) just voted, we were just, uh, closing the ballot boxes." Uh, huh... I settled myself in to a nice seat by the window for an interesting day.

Ever the student that I am I spent the whole day carefully noting every major and minor event that took place. One of the most striking images that will stick with me for a long time was that of an elderly man, likely in his seventies, who proceeded through the polling station with the most composure and dignity I have ever seen deliberately applied. You could tell by his posture and his gait that this man was immensely proud of finally getting to vote for his country's government. As he approached the ballot box to drop the massive folded stack of ballot paper I noticed that his hand was quivering uncontrollably. I can only imagine what must have been going through this man's mind as he finally had a chance to participate in his and his children's future.

There were plenty of little vignettes like that that kept me reminded throughout the election day that what I was witnessing was something entirely new for the people here. It didn't matter that the polling station oficials were confused, and appeared poorly trained and poorly prepared; what I witnessed was a tremendous spirit and determination to take a positive step away from the pain of the past. and so, when we approached the twenty hour mark and the vote count was taking place by the light of a cheap electric lantern, I watched the utterly exhausted officials dilligently poring through the huge stacks of ballots, trying to reconcile the final vote count wth the numbers on the voters' list. As I sat there, equally exhausted (but fed, watered, and having had the chance to relieve myself), I too made a dilligent effort to take not of absolutely every little detail that I could.

My job, as I kept reminding myself, was to contribute to the determination of the legitimacy, fairness, and transparency of the process. When a ballot was incorrectly counted, or the electoral law was ignored by some genuinely well-intentioned improvisation, I took note, and made sure it went into my final report. Of course the process wasn't perfect, the Congolese people have never done this before. But without fail, what struck me over and over through the day was the sheer spirit and determination shown by those officials to make sure they did their job as best they could. And when the electoral commission gets the reports from the national and international observers I hope they can take our comments and reccomendations to heart, so that the next time around they can make the process that much more transparent, free, and fair.

...

I move now to the second phase of my time in the Congo, having bid farewell to most of the Winnipeg observer team. Today I moved in to a local hostel with John Derksen, his wife Nel, and Michael Mayen, all from Winnipeg. Tomorrow we will meet with our main contact for the rest of our project to sort out the details of what exactly we will be doing with our time. I am happy to report that our new home has internet access, and I hope to be able to report back here much more regularly.

-joel