Hi From the DR Congo

Our flight to the Congo was an experience to forget. We arrived April 7 th on a Saturday. Our grandchildren escorted us to the airport. It was quite a picture of all the grand kids wheeling our suitcases into the airport. The ticket agent called them our entourage and directed them as such as they delivered our cases to the TSA people. Our checked baggage was limited to 50 lbs. Each and we were right on when we weighed in. Our first leg was to Cincinnati, a three and one half hour flight. Our layover was short and gave us just enough time to get to our next gate. Our next leg was to Paris, and 8 hour flight. We were able to each have two seats and so I was able to sleep some but Farrell was kept busy sharing his second seat with a woman who was sick on the plane. He had a great time. The attendant brought a woman to the front who was throwing up and she was very large and couldn’t fit in the secured bulkhead seat where the armrests wouldn’t raise up. I slept through the whole thing. DeGaule Airport was under construction and they let us off at some obscure gate and we were put on a bus and taken for a long ride around a lot of construction and let out at a unmarked door. We couldn’t see any signs and there was no one to direct us so we just followed the crowd. We finally found a monitor and what gate our next flight was but because of the construction there was no signs to direct us. Dad was struggling to understand the French spoken around us. Finally we saw an attendant that looked at our ticket and sent us up some stairs. Again we were lost as there were no signs. The monitor had said our flight was boarding and we doubted we were going to make it. We got to another place where people were waiting at a sliding glass door. Dad asked an off duty attendant who looked like she was flying out and in English she told us we were waiting for a bus to take us to terminal C. We waited with many others for a bus for what seemed like an eternity and finally the second bus that came was ours. We hurried through terminal C to our gate and were it seemed to be the last people to check in. The plane was full and we walked through first class which was mostly white and Chinese passengers and entered second class seating. All I could see was a sea of black faces none of which smiled but rather glared at us as if we didn’t belong. We could not find room for our luggage and the attendant (speaking only French) helped Farrell haul the luggage to first class where there was room. By the time Dad got in his seat he was exhausted and his hands were shaking, his face was red and the stewardess brought him a glass of water. I think she was worried about him. The economy class section was our first encounter with culture shock. No one spoke to us, we were by far the minority and the smell in this cabin was new to me. This 8 hour leg of our journey was long and we were unable to sleep at all. The food was different and neither of us could eat anything. Thank goodness for a little Sprite and apple juice.

We were excited to finally land in Kinshasa. We were warned not to take any pictures out the windows of the plane and no pictures in the airport. I wish I could share with you my minds pictures of the airport. It was an experience in and of it’s self. We exited the plane per a metal staircase which wasn’t easy with our four carryon pieces of luggage. There was a sea of black faces anxiously awaiting someone coming off the plane. We had to present our passports at the airport door to armed security people. They were rude to anyone who didn’t do exactly as they said. We got through that without any problem and were sent to another booth which was guarded by a man in uniform carrying a rifle. He said something to Farrell which we assumed meant stay behind the redline. Farrell's toe was touching the red line and he yelled at him and pointed to the redline. He immediately stepped back BEHIND the red line. We eventually got through that visa check and went to claim our baggage. We knew that no one could come into the airport to help us and knew we had to get ourselves through customs.

The baggage room was very small no air conditioning and extremely hot. Armed guards were standing on the center of the baggage round-a-bout and watching everything going on. They frequently yelled at different ones, no reason that we could tell. The luggage was slow to come and we were not dressed for the heat and we both started to perspire. We were removing our jacket and sweater and there was water on the floor that was being splashed about soaking my knee high nylons so I pulled them off. We waited for our luggage for over an hour the whole time jostling for a position to see if the luggage coming around was for us. I waited with our carryon off to the side and I looked out the front door and could see several white faces waving their arms and I realized it was the Christensen’s, who we were replacing and the mission President. I almost started to cry. Mean time Farrell was being affronted by several black men trying to help us with our baggage and one even grabbed our luggage tickets out of his hand and was telling him he would help. Farrell had to grab them back and be very firm that we didn’t want any help. We had been warned not to let anyone help us. I was wondering how we were going to get 6 bags and two carry-ons over to customs by ourselves when like an angel Sis. Christensen appeared and in perfect French started directing traffic. She fended off all those people trying to help us and together, each carrying two bags we headed out of the airport passing customs without stopping into the arms of Pres. and Sis. Maycock, the Thomases and Bro. Christensen. We got to the car to find 6 boys guarding the car all wanting to be paid for keeping the car safe. Bro. Christensen paid one, the one he had contracted with when he parked and did not pay the others. The parking lot was swarming with people begging for money and wanting to give service of watching the car and washing the windows.

We got in the Christensen’s truck, our truck and started for our apartment. It was about 7:30 PM and little did we know that our adventure was just beginning. Bro. Christensen is a truck driver in his other life and his skill sure came in handy. I can safely say you have never seen any driving like we had leaving the airport. But first we had to stop at the gate of the airport to get permission to leave from a guard who no one knows if he is a real policeman or someone just trying to extort money from you but we didn’t give him any money and he called Elder Christensen a pastor and let us go through. It is hard to believe that Kinshasa has 7 million people in this one city but I think they were all on the road we took from the airport. There seem to be no rules to driving. Everyone just goes there own way. It reminded me of ants crawling along all trying to get through a narrow space. People drive up the side of the rode trying to get ahead, they push their way in front of you. They make three lanes where there is only suppose to be one and amongst all this confusion the sides of the road are packed with people and I do mean packed. If you went off the road you could easily hit 50 people. And . . . people just cross the street whenever they want without looking or caring if they might be hit. All this is going on with the cars speeding along at high speed, slamming on breaks and banging each others cars. Oh and the roads are mostly dirt and rutted beyond description. I mean pot holes a car can fall into. I can not do this ride justice in my description. It was beyond anything I have ever seen.

Our apartment is in a secure building with a fence, gate and a guards. It is in the safest part of town and is quite large. I safe safe but the Christensen's were unable to stay in their apartment last week when there was a mini war going on as it went on right arouond our building. They took 3 shots through a bedroom and their apartment was brokien into during this time. Now the apartment has bars on every window and the front door has a metall gate and it takes 3 different keys to get into the apartment. Overkill maybe but they say we are now safer than before. Dispite this history we can be quite comfortable here.

Farrell was pretty excited to see our mission vehicle but it was for not as this wasn't his vehicle after all it was the Nissan truck next to it.

Our first working day we spent the morning in the office going over projects that the Christensen’s have in the works and then they took us out to the water project they are just finishing. It is called Camp Luka. This is a water project that will service about 25,000+ people with clean water. We thought we had the ride of our life coming from the airport but the night before we went to Camp Luka was a huge thunder/rain storm that went on for several hours and every road we went on had huge washed out sections. The roads were severly ruted and were often washed out causing us to tip precariously from side to side. The roads are barely wide enough to fit a car down and are used mostly for walking. The people have little tables set up on the side of the road selling produce or anything they can find to sell to make a living. We tore up the front bumper a bit and had some close calls ending up walking into the water project to meet the site supervisor. The village is very interesting to us as it is the first we have been to and was able to see the living conditions. The women are often brightly dressed and carry their bundles, water buckets and anything on their heads. The children are half dressed and you see little ones carrying around the even smaller ones. There is garbage everywhere as there is no garbage system, no garbage cans or collection and so everyone just drops their garbage where they are at. I find this very disturbing but it is the same everywhere. In spite of the smell and the garbage that assaults you everywhere the people were happy and busy at their little booths selling what ever they could. These booths are everywhere, on every street not matter how remote.

We found the water project well underway. It is bringing water from a well up to a storage tank on a tower and then gravity will carry it 800 meters and along this path it will have three sites where people can collect fresh, clean water from a spigot. This community has had this plan for some time and they formed a water committee and then Humanitarian services partnered with them to help them accomplish their plan. This water will be ready in about a week and we will have an opening ceremony with the village. We are very excited and hope this happens before the Christensens leave on the 19th as it is their project.

When you go to the village the children flock around you and want you to take their picture which I did. They then want to see the picture in your camera and just fall down laughing at themselves. They are so cute. The women are shy, the men stern faced and the young men look angry for what reason I am not sure.

We took the construction engineer (a Congolese man named Simon) back with us to the city to where he needed to catch his transport. On the way back we were stopped twice by village men who had put a barricade across the road not allowing us to pass. They wanted money to let us pass through their area. The church has told us not to pay any money, to keep our door locked and not to roll down our windows ever. So we kept telling them no. The Congolese engineer got out of the car and talked to the men telling them that we were missionaries and were giving service to their community and after much back and forth they let us through. The second group he tried talking to but finally he just paid them and got back in the car saying they were on something and it wasn’t safe to try and reason with them. He was very upset and said it was such a shame that his Congolese brothers would treat us so bad when we had come to help and he apologized for them.

This country is a country that has been hammered with all kinds of civil unrest and the people are in survival mode. There is so much that could be done to help them and we hope we can do some projects that will make a difference.

What you read here today is our original culture shock. We are not as wide eyed now as that first trip from the airport as we are getting to know many wonderful people and learning how to get around a very interesting city. We look forward to sharing more things with you soon.

Elder and Sis. Barlow