Zongo Falls!

         We awoke this morning very refreshed and clean! We took breakfast in the resort before heading out to see the falls. I stood outside to watch and hear the rapids while everyone else finished eating. The water is very, murky brown and looks massively powerful against the rocks. When everyone was (finally) finished, we asked for a guide and began our trek to the falls. It is a steep path through the jungle, but every moment worth it to see what awaited us. First, we came across a tiny nonexistent pool, that only becomes a lake in the wet season. We continued our hike upwards and then we could hear the falls, view them through the trees, and begin to feel the mist. The trees fall away and suddenly we are standing on a cliff directly in front of the falls while we are bathed in the spray. It is a majestic and beautiful and awe-inspiring! Where we are standing, the rocks are constantly coated with mist blown from the falls. I love standing here with my arms outspread feeling the spray from the falls, like I’m on the edge of the world. Francois, very worried about me, kept telling us all to stand back from the edge, like any good mother! Clement, Jean-Pierre, Patrick, and I continued on while Francois and Nancy stayed behind. There was a steep rocky path down closer to the falls. I had been wearing sandals, but gave up at this point and just went barefoot which was much easier. This path got us completely soaked, but was well worth any inconvenience for the view. If you yell into the falls, the echo causes the spray to become even stronger for just a moment. This experience was awesome, I’m so happy we came here!

Falls!

Nancy and Clement

Getting Soaked by the Spray

               On to business…so there is already a dam on the Inkisi River, but construction is underway on a second, much bigger dam. As Patrick is a civil engineer, we could not pass up this opportunity to look in on this development. After a series of administrative hurdles (national security, energy source secrecy, Chinese companies, etc.), we (they) visited with an engineer from the company who explained and showed the plans for dam.

The dam is to be built below the first dam, but still at an elevation about the Congo River. A tunnel of water will run from the dam to the center on the Congo River where the turbines will be operated. We visited the construction site of the center on the Congo River. I’m sure there was lots of fascinating information about construction and capacity going on here, but I didn’t catch any of that. The construction is by a Chinese company, but apparently everybody speaks French. They expect it to be complete by 2015. Then we visited the construction site of the dam. Most of the electricity produced here will be sold to other countries, rather than used internally…better profits. Finally, we were on our way back to Kinshasa…just as my patience was running thin with how slow EVERYTHING runs here…we blew a tire. Of course! The perfect reward for my impatience. Thankfully we were only a short walk to the next village where the local boys were more than willing to have the tire off and spare tire on in about 30 minutes. Not without some moments of hopelessness as it took several trips back and forth from the village to acquire the correct tools and a long iron pipe.
               Now, we are really on our way! Several hours later, we were safely back in Kinshasa thanks to the wit and skillful driving on Jean-Pierre. The traffic still gets to me with all the sudden stops and close calls every 30 seconds, but alas, we continue to survive. After dinner at Jean-Pierre and Francoise’ house, we returned to the apartment for a restful night. 

Road to Kisantu

Today we are going to Zongo Falls. We pass from the province of Kinshasa to Bakongo. Here there are mountains and rivers, everything is still very green. After the border, we stop to pay a toll. Now the toll is designed like ones in the States, where vehicles can drive through and pay out the window. But instead of doing anything efficiently, everybody parks on the highway and gets out to wait in a pedestrian line which takes forever. Now, maybe we can continue. They make everything so difficult!!! They need rules like “you can’t stop on the highway”, “don’t back up!”, or “you have to stay inside your vehicle.” 

This stretch is more highway funded by the World Bank. As we drove, the discussion was about energy that DRC provides to Zambia, Republic of Congo, and South Africa. There are plans to build an even larger dam which may supply Central African Republic and Egypt. First, we stopped at the Jardin Botanique de Kinsantu, which is huge. It was started by a Jesuit priest in the 1920s. Unfortunately, we did not have all day to explore as we had to be on our way. Kisantu, is a rather small town, is entirely red, covered in the fine red dust of the roads. 

The houses of this countryside are amazing to me. They have made bricks with which to build. I wonder how they make the houses square or how they make the bricks straight, or in fact, how they make the bricks at all! The landscape here is interesting because it is quite steep. The hills are covered with grass like a savannah, but the valleys are palm trees and thick vegetation. Finally we made it to the dam and Zongo Falls! It was getting too dark to walk the paths tonight, but we are staying at a resort named Seli Safari. They served us a wonderful dinner where I actually ate the fish called peoisson capitaine. This place even has hot water!! I am so excited for tomorrow to see the La Chutes de Zongo!

Seli Safari

Farm Day 2

         This morning started when the roosters crowed. I quickly redressed in clothing from yesterday and headed out for round two. Francoise’ third farm consists of 200ha upon which workers plant 5-10ha per year in cassava. This farm is much nearer to water, not to irrigate the plants but to provide drinking water for the workers. Here they burn the grass every year for eight for eight years before rotating the crops back. She is having some troubles with the fields because the planting was done poorly. As they have no means of herbicide and it would be impossible to weed. The workers must be careful to cut the roots of the weeds when tilling the soil. Some of these plots displayed grass competing with the cassava. What I still fail to understand is all the burning. Everything is burned during every dry season. Surely there must be some alternative to (what seems to me) this waste of nutrients. Also, the cassava is planted on the far side of the farm from the stream. I finally came to understand that that particular plot could be planted with a tractor as the land had been cleared of trees and shrubs. Land closer to the stream must be cleared of trees before planting with the rented tractor.

Next, we visited her 10 cows. I think they are more of an experiment than means of profit. There is a tiny corral where the guy who follows them around all day, keeps them at night. There are no fences and it is his job to keep the cows out of the cassava. I would say the savannah landscape here is not particularly beautiful, but that would hardly be fair as they are halfway through the dry season and most has recently been burned.

I noticed these strange patches of Eucalyptus trees growing on the plateau. These are planted by locals and bought by members of the European union as carbon credits or planted by the European cooperation’s.

             Then we began the long, sandy road back to Kinshasa. The journey is always made interesting by the assortment of vehicles stopped on or along the road in various stages of disrepair. I spent a particular amount of the journey debating politics with Jean-Pierre. Of course, I know very little of African politics and could do little more than agree that the U.S. should keep its hands out of African governments. I am however convinced that Congo is neither ready for democracy nor capitalism at this time. At this point, I was just excited to be having some conversation in English! We stopped at a market for them to buy more of the smelly fish and cassava bread for dinner. They were kind enough to buy me a pizza and we all safely made it back to Clement’s parent’s house. Again, I am exhausted but much too in need of a bath to sleep yet. 

Cassava Invaded by Grass

Cow Herd

Cattle Corral

Burned Field

Process: Charcoal Production & Cassava Production

Charcoal Production: So as I describe all the farm labor, imagine it in the most primitive form possible….as in no vehicles, horses, or even dogs. The charcoal production starts when the trees are cut, generally by one man. 

Making the Charcoal

Cut Acacia Trees

Some of the tall trunks are driven into the ground in a rectangular fashion and the rest are chopped into more manageable pieces and tightly stacked inside the upright stakes. 
Then the laborers mound dirt around the outside, set them on fire, and cover them with sand. 
After a month of burning, the laborers tear away at the sand piles to reveal the charcoal. This charcoal is then stacked into bags that are loaded onto a large truck for sale in Kinshasa.

Finished Charcoal

  

Covered Cooking Charcoal

Stacked Acacia Logs

Cassava Plants

Cassava Production: Cassava takes an entire year to mature. Behind the house was a large stack of freshly harvested cassava roots, then a pile of the peelings from the work done that day. 

Harvested Cassava

Peeling the Cassava

The peeled cassava was thrown in large vats of water, dug out of the ground and lined with tarps. 

On the Drying Racks

Soaking

The cassava soaks three days then they rinse it and lay it out on raised stick platforms to dry for a minimum of 5 days (longer in the rainy season). 

From there it is loaded into sacks to be shipped to Kinshasa. I think they also were able to ground it at the cooperation, but most of what I saw was ground by hand by the families who bought it.

Grinding the Cassava

Inspecting the Fields

 

MAMPU (Farm Day 1)

          Today we are headed out to the farm!!! Clement’s father, Jean-Pierre, came home last night from work in Lumbashi. To leave the city, we would have to drive past the airport which I dreaded because I knew the traffic would be horrid. It wasn’t too bad, but up until now I hadn’t experienced much air pollution. (Ok, there is a lot of air pollution everywhere due to dust.) Here, it was terrible, not from dust but from vehicle emissions which made breathing very tedious. Every time people talk here, it sounds like the end of the world to me. It may only be an off handed comment, but all I hear is “OH MY GOSH, WE ARE GOING TO DIE!” clearly because I don’t understand the language or culture. Towards the airport is a lot of “construction” (or what could possibly be though of as construction) along the road, on the road, bridges, etc.



Smoking Fish

Caterpillars

               Finally, we were out of the city and stopped at a rural fish market to buy some supplies (that I would not be eating). Children were selling cassava bread, caterpillars, fish, mbika (pumpkin seed bread). I was able to take pictures here and they took pictures with me. Another stop we make along the road was to see a big (bigger than two ton) truck that Francios owns, but was broken down on the road. The driver had been surviving here for a week on little to eat while waiting for a mechanic to come along. I took the opportunity to photograph some landscape. The vast tracks of land are owned by villages, but it was completely undeveloped and covered in brush. They pointed out a large rural market as we drove past, there is so much more space here and the people are somewhat quieter.



Fish Market

On the Road to MAMPU

               As we continue to travel in some directions that I am still uncertain of but generally East, the land looks more and more like savannah, dry and covered in grass with a few trees dotting the horizon. At first it was rather steep, (more than the Ozarks but not really mountains) but soon it flattened out to a plateau of red sand and clay. On the plateau, there is very little water so they must dig wells 60-90 meters deep though it is only by trial and error to actually hit the water basin. We crossed a river called Mai Ndobe (Black Water), which is strangely black considering the dirt is yellow and red. Then we are back into mountains (or at least steeper than before) and the roads are treacherous. Everything is surprisingly well paved, but many curves hugging the mountains and large trucks barreling down the other side. Many are without brakes, as you see a dozen people holding on to the back of these enormous truck in an attempt to keep them from gaining too much speed.

               Jean-Pierre told me the roads were built by the World Bank. They money was given directly to the suppliers, so it wouldn’t slip through the fingers of the government. In return for the “donation”, DRC is pressured to sell minerals to Europe to pay for membership into the World Bank and make improvements to their overall economy. It is maintained by a government agency that collects money from road tolls and oil taxes.



               As we near the farm, the grass looks like kindling though the trees are still green. The dry season has only begun. Francois’ first farm is located in MAMPU, the land here is mostly clay with a layer of loose clay resembling sand on top. I can already imagine that water retention here is a big problem. Most of the land on this side of the highway is rented by USAid & World Vision who are conducting agriculture experiments, namely GMO cassava. Yuck! Thankfully, the Congolese people do not like the taste of GMO cassava or the idea of it. MAMPU is a German run cooperative dedicated to promoting sustainable agroforestry, specifically to produce charcoal for Kinshasa. The land is rented from the government by the cooperative. This is a link to an informative video http://vimeo.com/8309679. The center of Mampu is a village of the people who are running the operation of 8000 hectares and a school for the laborers children. It is here that Francois made arrangements for us to stay in the “guest house.” Then we drove the 7km out to the first of her farms. Inside this cooperative, each farmer managed 25ha of land. As we drive, Jean-Pierre notes that families live on each of the 25ha plots and villages consist of four houses. The houses and water cellars are constructed of cement by the cooperative. However, each plot has numerous dry stick structures which house the laborers. In each of the villages, you can see children running around in ragged clothing while parents are working and carrying water.

Off the Highway



Cooperation Houses

When we arrive at her farm, there is the usual 2 room cement building, cylindrical water tank that collects water from the roof, 2 dry stick buildings, and a long platform of sticks. This platform is used to dry cassava, but I will talk about it later. I was anxious to see the acacia trees that grow here along with cassava, so I chose a path and started walking only to have everyone behind me laughing as apparently that was the way to the hole in the ground (toilet). So after waiting for Francois to finish some business with the family that lives on her property, meeting Papa Paul (the foreman), and taking pictures of the village children, we were finally ready to see the operation. I had initially believed the purpose of the farm was to grow cassava, but realistically that is secondary to charcoal production. The purpose of the project was to appoint 25ha to families who needed work where they could grow Acacia trees to alleviate the shortage of charcoal on the country, specifically Kinshasa. Charcoal is what all families use to cook with since the electricity is utterly unreliably. These trees were planted between 8 and 12 years ago and each family is supposed to cut down 3ha per year to produce the charcoal. The managers are supposed to replant the trees as they go and by the time they cut all 25 ha, the replanted trees are ready to be harvested again. It seems to be working well except some of the families do not replant. This seems to be beneficial to society but not financially profitable according to Jean-Pierre, I think it is a break even operation that provides work to otherwise very poor families. On this farm, they wait a year in between cutting and replanting to the Acacia to take advantage of the tree’s nitrogen-fixing characteristic to grow an extremely productive year of cassava.



The children from the village follow us as we examine the cassava and the laborers explain the charcoal process. It is quick to write (quicker to read) but all this information was gleaned over a period of many hours as it is difficult to obtain. All this information had to go through one, maybe two translators to get my point across or my question answered. For example, it didn’t look like there was competition to the cassava plant and yet I still can’t figure out how th

ey keep down the weeds. (After a couple more days spend there, I got it figured out.) Papa Paul chopped at the cassava and pulled up some for me to see. The children following us proceeded to carry it back to the village and later I saw they had peeled off the outside and were eating it raw. Although the cassava leaves can be eaten, they are generally consumed locally while the roots are harvested and sent to the city. Cassava roots are dried and ground as the main ingredient in Congolese bread, which is central to their cuisine. After touring this farm, we are off to the next!



The second farm consisted of land originally belonging to the local villages, but since they were not utilizing it at all apparently they found it more productive to sell. Francoise owns 100ha and plants 5-10ha in cassava per year. As there is no availability of fertilizer and the cassava does not follow the acacia trees, she will wait ten years of growing and burning off the grass before planting again in the same plot. The grass is burned every year as a traditional way to fertilize the land in preparation for cultivation despite how many years away that may be. On this property is her house, where she stays when directly supervising the work on the farm. The houses consists of stakes driven in to the ground and covered in tin. The cassava plants seemed to be doing exceptionally well on the plot and Jean-Pierre congratulated her on the hard work. What continues to amaze me is that despite all the fires, neither the house, outdoor kitchen (or grass and sticks), nor the cassava drying racks look touched by the flames!



Houses

As we headed back down towards the village, we stopped at one of Francoise’ friend’s house. Here I was able to observe the entire process of cassava preparation. In this area, the massive problem is water. People have to walk miles to a dirty river to obtain water for drinking, much less having it available to wash dishes, laundry, rinse vegetables, or raise pigs and goats. This dry season only lasts 4 months, but the tanks that drain rainwater are insufficient to last. The second problem in labor, as all this farming takes vast amounts of workers throughout the year. They cannot find enough people to bring in for labor, nor do they have sufficient resources to sustain the people that do work here. Tomorrow we are headed to her third farm.



Village Children

I struggle with the issues here, because I cannot wrap my mind around ways of improvement. Francoise believes that tractors will help solve the labor shortage problem, yet I am afraid it will only leave more people without work. Patrick believes that well could be a solution, however, each to build costs upwards of $20,000 with no way to ever recoup those expenses. I cannot see a clear path to improvement. These people are not educated, so they cannot leave their work nor can they leave to become educated. Unemployment is rampant in the cities, so at least here there is work.

The “guest house” we are staying in tonight is a cement building, which is more than I expected considering it an indoor bathroom, running water, mattress, and electricity. This adventure has left me with much to ponder and will continue tomorrow. Having a Mars Bar along with my bread for dinner, significantly improved my outlook on the world. Our electricity will be turned off soon, so it’s off to bed for now.



Surveying the Fields

 

Lola Ya Bonobo

       Today we are going to see the monkeys at Lola Ya Bonobo (Paradise of the Bonobo). As we are driving, I would like to make a few personal notes. Time means next to nothing here, two hours late is common and “getting ready to go” may take all day. Some streets are quite during the day and only come to life as a big party every night. Girls wear high heels all the time, even to walk distances. At night it is common to see girls dressed in club outfits, though generally less than what I would consider classy. Also, watching people walking on the side of the street, I notice many people with limps not from land mines as in other parts of Africa but from polio, which is prevalent here. Walking, buses, taxis, and some personal cars are the most common, except for these massive carts sometimes stacked 10’ tall which men are pushing down the highway. There are so many churches here and most people attend en masse on Sunday morning, yet this seems to have little impact on crime, integrity, or work ethic.

               And now…back to the monkey story. We drive up and out of the city to Lukaya where the hills were lined with raised terraces growing vegetables. At Bonobo, there are tall electric fences to keep the in the monkeys. This place is like a sanctuary for the nearly extinct species. We watched a lady feed orphaned babies, because they are nursed until age 4. We decided to walk the steep paths of the sanctuary, seeing only one monkey because it was getting hot, but the walk was worth it to see the jungle greenery. Nancy, Clement’s friend, accompanied us and she is really sweet. I only wish I could talk to her more.

               After leaving the sanctuary, we drove to Lac de Ma Vallee. It is a very peaceful lake surrounded by vegetation. The road was very dusty due to the dry season, so although this may not be the most beautiful time of year it has great weather and passable roads. One the way back to Kinshasa, we passed a couple dust covered roads full of barefoot but cute children. The traffic back was horrible, but Flory is a competent driver even as he reassures me “don’t be afraid”. We dropped off Patrick at the University to teach his classes and then at Clement’s Aunt’s house to leave the material for her to make me some clothing.

Lac de Ma Vallee

Grand Marche

          Real, delicious, fully ripe bananas were for breakfast. Love! Here I was thinking I might lose some weight while over here, but the way everybody feeds me here…that’s not happening! This morning, we are off to the Grand Marche. The Grand Market is another impossible thing to describe and this time there are no pictures to help. I didn’t carry anything with me into the market. The market consists of about 15 streets wide and probably miles long. It is packed with vendors selling everything and shops in all the buildings. There were people cobbling shoes, getting their hair done, selling toilet paper and canned meat. However, the vendors aren’t stationary. They come at you from all directions until you acknowledge them. It was a little scary to be packed into these streets, surrounded by people speaking Lingala very loudly, wooden carts trying to run over you, and (inconceivably) cars trying to drive down the streets. Despite all that, my biggest fear was being lost forever in the mass of moving people and never finding my way back. To prevent this, I was usually holding Clement’s or Getal’s hand like a small child being led through the mall. The sights of African women dressed in their bright clothing, carrying everything imaginable on their heads could hardly be taken in because I was so determined not to fall down or trip over the broken pavement and massive potholes. The loud calling of vendors was easy to ignore since I don’t speak Lingaga, but Flory seemed to get endless laughs from what they were saying to me including “come look”, “I’m single”, and even “will you give her to me”. Mundele (“white” people) do not go to the market, so I was quite the sight apparently. I was pleased because I was able to buy some beautiful African cloth!

Getal

               We bought most of our supplies from a store run by Indians which makes me curious as to how they learned Lingala to start with, but they are indeed very industrious people! After this, we joined Getal in her search for the rings for her “white” wedding. There is an entire area dedicated to selling real gold and silver jewelry. Just when I thought we had seen it all and couldn’t imagine there being more to see…we walked into the food section…specifically the meat market. This consisted of living, dead, chopped, and cooked animals such as an assortment of fish, snails, turtles, alligators, caterpillars, goat and much more. The ground was covered in blood and slime, as soon as you thought you were safe, water was coming at you from a nearly bucket of eel-looking creatures! Clement bought a fish and you stand by to watch as the vendor takes a large stick and beats the fish head until it doesn’t move anymore….I don’t think I will be eating that one! However, it seemed fresh enough as there was little smell. Then we moved to the vegetable section, which was much more manageable. It was table after table of peppers, carrots, herbs, root plants, and spices. The market was dusty and crowded, but doesn’t seem as dangerous as I had been led to believe. I emerge unscathed with perhaps a little more understanding into life in Kinshasa.

               For lunch Clement and Getal prepare the fish that I politely refuse to eat. Getal’s sister came to braid Clement’s hair, which had been bought at the market. It was interesting to watch, but makes me grateful for my low maintenance dirty blond hair.