Congo steamy top 10--part 1

Things I love about congo?

1. Les pirogues… you seem them heading out, paddling into the lake, lashed together three to a side ready for a nights work catching fish by lattern light… but when the sun goes out and the lights are lit, its an eerie scene, a lake full of stars, drifting constellations lantern light.

2. 6pm, sunset…the sun sets quickly, perceptibly a the equator, and as a rule there’s far too much cloud over the jungle to actually see the moment where the sun rushes towards the horizon, but this is the time when the birds come back to roost. And what bird would be a proper bird if it did not sing to its neighbors in the twilight? Evenings on my terrace, before the generator tears the moment in two, a drink in hand, sitting on the warm tiles, amongst surragate family…

3. Kids—Some are cheeky, some are scared, some are kind and gracious others less so… some think that white people roast children for supper. What’s certain is that kids will often be the first to transcend the rules of social interaction, tossing aside all manner of ‘-isms’… it took the better part of the year before my neighbors kids learnt that my name wasn’t ‘honky’… we’d walk home together during lunch break or after work, sometimes I’d try to steal their backpack, or maybe just taunt them in Swahili… but we were neighbors… we’d not only wave at each other in the morning, we’d exchange funny faces… even the street kids who begged from the Pakistanis would offer me some of their daily haul—once, after a rough day, I told them to fuck off when they heckled me, and whammo, as if I had uttered some secret password, we were buddies… So hoow long does it take for one to become black, or not white, or somehow not some sort of alien? I’m not sure its even possible, but at least you can rest assured that children are more likely to accept you (despite your hairy arms!)

4. The journaliers—I’ve written of these guys previously, no? These guys would loiter outside the office… some young, some old, all unemployed, many at the very bottom of the heap… When I arrived, these guys were lucky to be paid once in a while for a day’s work, and yet, despite being treated like rubbish by certain folk in the logistics’ department, they would continue to turn up in hope of getting a day’s work. My department used these guys virtually everyday, loading and offloading trucks, moving piles this way and that… sometimes they would steal from us, sometimes they would work extra long hours to try to get one last truck loaded with relief supplies. These guys would drive me around the bend, they would inspire me, but most of all, they reminded me of were my family… My grandfather was a labourer, worked like a dog for a pittance, and thanks to the union movement on the Vancouver port docks, he retired with a living wage and stout pension… This year, I harangued the day laborers to unionize. Unfortunately, my attempts to convince these guys that getting their ranks organized would likely benefit them and their families failed, but they nevertheless remain on my top 10