Now that I have a solid internet connection, I can bring this thing up to speed. Let’s kick it into high gear…
BTW, I’m backdating my posts so they are sequential and not one long rambling thought. Better a bunch of small diatribes, easier to digest, like chapters, right?
So on Sunday, we were invited to the sisters’ house for Paul’s “bon voyage” and my “Welcome to Kole” –I don’t know how to say it in French…don’t start. The whole crew came out. Father Petri (who’s German), the Sisters, (From Spain and Congo), me, and Paul. At that point we had…4 different languages …going at the table, so between the lot of us, I think all understood one another. The dinner was outstanding. They served an awesome fruit salad with mango, passion fruit, bananas, papaya, and pineapple. The main course was goat prepared with an unbelievable sauce. The dinner ended with cake and cream. The curious thing, there is no milk here, and I haven’t seen any eggs….roosters…no eggs…hmmm.
On Tuesday, our pilot/tech guy came out to ameliorate our suffering and fix the network. This was minor compared to the strife and struggle Paul went through, but none the less, it seemed daunting. After several hours, we headed back to the house for some relaxation and rest.
The provincial governor (or deputy) was in town and apparently I made his security force a bit nervous. Going back and forth to the hospital, they made several passes by me, I smiled and said hello, they frowned and said nothing. No harm, no fowl. I will say I was a bit unnerved by the rifles and rocket launcher, which I found a bit excessive and questioned whether it functioned. I wanted to take a picture, but thought better of it, not wanting to learn the answer to my question the hard way.
Wednesday we packed Paul up and rolled out to the airport. John (our pilot) and his wife Marilyn rode in the Rover along with Paul and 2 passengers en route to Kinshasa. Two of us followed on the bikes. Unbeknownst to me, there is an unwritten security policy that states, when traveling to the airfield, you must no go less than 50 km/h and blast the horn the entire time. So, with speeds exceeding breakneck narrowly missing masses of pedestrians, goats, dogs, and debris, we arrived unscathed to a rowdy crowd assembled at the plane. Our ‘security’ person attempted to abate the masses by yelling and wildly swinging a large stick.
We loaded the plane, said out good-byes, chased the goats off the air strip, and headed back to the house.
Business as usual….
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