Congo comes back in flashes–like, I’m blow drying my hair Sunday morning and I’m thinking about that first night in a Rwanda border town, eating plates of whole fish, fried, with heaps of thick french fries. How dark it was in the little restaurant, just a few dim bulbs for the room, shadows everywhere. Like we were being hidden, everyone’s faces blurred and anonymous. A radio playing songs we recognized by musicians we didn’t. We were exhausted and filthy, having spent several days straight in airplanes, in a Land Rover speeding across Rwanda, taking pictures as the wind hit our faces and we thought nothing like that could have ever happened here. Not in a place so achingly beautiful, not in a place that smells of eucalyptus and grilling meat.
And faces. I’ll be watching a movie, and the way someone smiles will make me think Fiston and in someone’s glasses I will see Bishop. A picture I saw somewhere, of African fabric, a woman’s dress.
Rachael came over last night and we made a hodgepodge dinner of fried okra, anasazi beans, and pecan-ginger rice. And as we cooked, we talked Africa. Kenya for her, Congo for me. The smells and the tastes. Sweet Fanta, flat bread, avocados, slick cheeses.
When I was there, home felt like a memory, like a place that had ceased existing. Now, Congo is in my thoughts regularly, but it takes on ghost-like shapes, shifting in and out of focus. The longer I’m away, the harder it is to feel that I was really there. Except in those moments when it flashes back, and I can breathe deep and almost smell it, there in my memories. Those are the moments I hold to, thankful as I’m brushing my teeth with tap water, as I’m driving and I find myself surprised that the road is flat and solid.
4 Comments
Did you see this story on CNN?
http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/08/11/congo.rape/
It’s heartwrenching.
Yes, I was pleased to hear about Clinton’s trip. Seems to be raising awareness and getting some attention paid to that part of the world and what’s going on.
As far as travel goes, Congo and Hawaii are definitely at the opposite ends of the spectrum. And yet, you captured something that seemed universal, to me: “When I was there, home felt like a memory, like a place that had ceased existing. Now, Congo is in my thoughts regularly, but it takes on ghost-like shapes, shifting in and out of focus. The longer I’m away, the harder it is to feel that I was really there. Except in those moments when it flashes back, and I can breathe deep and almost smell it, there in my memories. Those are the moments I hold to.”
this is such an amazing post. and wow–has it really already been five months? i feel like i was just reading the things you put up while you were over there.