Kabila, Kapita, and the Kanga twins, pt 2

This is part 2 of a two part summary of my wild and crazy week...the page didn't load properly, so you might want to begin with the next entry below...
C



12:30…our business day ends at 16:30, which left me 4 hours to work out all my arrangements and of course, beat the Bukavu Bureaucracy---liberating cash from finance, arranging transportation with Logs, and getting permission to travel international. Well, in short, I pulled it off…only took one extra day and a bout of food poisoning! In those precious four hours, managed to make arrangements with IRC-Burundi to assist with my transportation from the Rwandan border and accommodation while I staged from Bujumbura (the capital), which happens to be directly opposite Uvira, 30km as the crow flies; made arrangements with OCHA-Uvira for a vehicle to meet me at the DRC-Bur border to ferry me around and to organize a meeting of stakeholders for the latrine work; made arrangements with logistics to drop me off at the Rwanda-Burundi border; secured cash for the trip (amazing ,given recent challenges), justified all outstanding cash advances in order to release those funds. And at the end of the day, my boss was satisfied that the arrangements met the conditions and I was cleared to go… 3 countries, two IRC offices, 1 night, and with both countries security restrictions, mere hours to get a whole lot of work done.


Now, nothing happens as planned, we’ve established that already, no? The border crossings—all four of them the first day—took more time than usual...on the DRC side, everyone is worried about losing their jobs when the election is sorted and new individuals are appointed (with their buddies) to key admin posts…in Rwanda they’ve computerized the immigration dept. but their new machine had difficulty reading my old-school “not Machine Readable” passport; no one could find the functionary at the other Rwandan crossing; and at the Burundi crossing, I was caressed by the immigration officer, who (in all seriousness) circled me like a predator, whilst touching my arm and commenting on my skin while his colleague issued my entry visa—bringing to mind a thought that I hope I had at least mentioned in this blog (perhaps the Ethiopian entry?) where a colleague had made the comparison of the experience of harassment suffered by women with that experienced by humanitarians. My Satphone wouldn’t work, couldn’t inform my colleagues in Congo that I would not make our rendezvous, and IRC-Bur security restrictions ensured that there would be no way I could return to Bukavu after work the following day, thereby adding an additional night to what was suppose to be an overnight trip. Arrangements were made anew, a security check made first thing (9:30!) the next morning, and I was off…two more border points, a 2nd visa, a long walk across no-man’s land, and by the time I made it to the other side, I had no more than 3 hours to get everything done, including hike up the mountain to the school site, pay the labourers, and coordinate the latrine project, before getting back into Burund in time for their travel curfew! Unbelievable.

First stop, the school…sent two fellows to get the Kapita and all the carpenters together (not a bright idea) and then I made straight up the hill for the school. Busted my ass to get up there quickly to inspect the structures before the Kapita and the guys got together back at the base of the hill…well I nearly flipped out when I made it to the site! Already a day and a half behind schedule, only one of the structures had actually been built, no latrine pit, half the other structure, no desks, no tarps…Blown away, I was totally blown away, I saw the community come out in strength and enthusiasm to start this work, the kids were accommodated in other schools for the time being, and I had thought I had seen community initiative/mobilization in the initial attempt to reopent the road (I found out later that I had been mistaken)…but no, it was as though when my engineer left for Bukavu (as per security restrictions), work stopped and all that creative potential went into figuring out how to swindle us…essentially, our aggrement in principle was broken, and it was all I could do to not lambaste the community authorities for their willingness to squander assistance for their children…they aimed to add 2x the number of labourers and double (at least) the amount of time invested in the overall project…blown away, and as the crowd of (unpaid) young men started to gather and make their complaints about this and that (wood is insufficient, we haven’t been paid, etc)…I walked away, Kapita in one hand, and the head of the parents committee in the other...They were obliged to escort me back to the truck waiting for me, and I explained to them, in no uncertain terms, that I would give them one day’s notice before returning to settle accounts, and that their opportunism had better be overtaken by a community driven will to complete the school before I get back…
Then I was off, a bit of sunstroke brewing in my dehydrated brain…the latrine thing went off well and I got out of there with minutes (literally) to spare before I’d have been subject to the wraith of the IRC-Bur security officer. And once I had settled into the front seat of our yellow hilux, I pulled a ham sandwich out of my sack and ate half, sharing the other bit with the driver.

I puked all night….he did not.

That night, Kabila was declared the winner of the elections…Bemba was not.

But for all of the drama, obstacles, and deviations (of border guards and otherwise), I got back to Bukavu , safe and sound…

Some less wordy miscellanea to follow, as we continue to be restricted in our mvt’ this week.

Peace
C
Pics—some kid…another kid…action shot—talking to kids!