Vanity Fair does the Congo

Reading Vanity Fair’s July article Congo’s Battered Cockpits brought back to life Congo’s chaotic beauty for me. …Though perhaps beauty is not something most people would take away from an article about Congo’s frighteningly unregulated airline industry. The anecdote whose punchline is a plane bellyflopping on Brazza’s runway only to fly again no doubt will bring a nostalgic smile to any ironic soul who’s spent time in the Congo. (I keep my own air travel stories to myself if only to avoid being grounded by mother who occasionally reads this blog.)

But then, Vanity Fair’s article succeeds where most others fail: it creates an realistic image of the Congo without the pity party in tow. From the pillages of the 1990’s to the diamond smuggling back and forth across the Angolan border, one can begin to imagine how things work and don’t work in the Congo. The sense of complete freedom that only comes with the absence of government mixed with the destruction that decades without governance has intertwined itself with each story told.

For my own part, this article reminded me that living in the Congo, however briefly or long, gives one a sense that anything is possible in this world — no matter how outrageous, forgiving, or impossible. The Congo is filled with extremes: riches and poverty, opportunity matched with risk, and hope facing down desolation. Go out and read this one, folks; it’s well worth your time.

As for myself, I’ve been bumming around the US for the last month and am having a pretty good time of it. I’ll be heading to Costa Rica this weekend for a bit of holiday so stay tuned for the tales of woe as I discover that the phrase ‘Donde esta la cerveza?” is not a good substitute for actually speaking Spanish.

Rien que la verité

What better way to spent a Saturday night in Kinshasa than hearing live to the biggest Congolese musicians around. Last night was the concert for the ABCD - Rien que la Verité album at the main stadium. Rien que la Verité (Nothing but the Truth) is a US Embassy project which collected 14 of the top Congolese musicians make an album raising awareness about HIV/AIDS surrounding the 4 main messages:

• Abstinence
• Bonne fidelité (Being Faithful)
• Condoms
• Dépistage (Testing)

While official data shows Congo’s HIV prevalence at 4.5%, it is suspected that many areas where there have been foreign militaries operating or which have road access to higher-prevalence countries such as Zambia and Rwanda, have significantly higher rates of infection (UNAIDS speculates up to 20% in conflict-affected areas). Unfortunately for those Congolese living with the virus, there is only limited access to ART (anti-retroviral therapy), which can significantly increase an infected person’s expected lifespan. The best way to stay well is still to focus on prevention, which is where Rien que la Verité comes in.

The Rien que la Verité album (which can be downloaded free from the link above) has one new song from each of the artists dealing with some aspect of the fight against HIV/AIDS and then an ensemble piece at the end. A video of the ensemble piece has also been produced and production is underway for a televised version of the concert.

The concert itself was fantastic — and I’m not just saying that because some friends organised it. Clips of the documentary made to accompany the album were also shown between acts. In the film, each of the artists speaks to one aspect of A, B, C or D or about destigmatisation of those living with the virus. Small film segments were also shown at the concert detailing how to correctly use a condom. Three organisations had rapid HIV testing booths at the concert and report having tested more people at the concert than in the last 6-8 months.

With Congo’s vibrant music culture, these musicians are national heroes whose voices hold serious weight. Seeing them speak on stage after each of their sets about the importance of dealing with the HIV/AIDS pandemic went far beyond lip service as the Lingala words went bouncing across the stadium filled with thousands. With the laughter bubbling across the stands during the condom demonstration, it was clear that the audience was taking it all in.

Philly Lutaaya, a Ugandan musician who contracted HIV early on in the epidemic was one of the first prominent Africans to come out with his status and used his popularity to promote HIV awareness and prevention, which he did with much success in his final days.

Having seen what the Rien que la Verité musicians -from Papa Wemba, the granddaddy of Congolese music, though newer stars like Werrason- are up to provides a lot of hope for stopping the spread of the disease in its tracks here in Congo. It also reminds one of the amazing things that can and do come together in this chaotic place.

Haut couture à la congolaise

This week’s check of what I fondly call my antiblog* revealed a discussion of the times of year when it’s socially appropriate to wear white. Here at the equator, the seasons don’t concern us much and I have been reprimanded far more times for my failure to adhere to local fashion norms than for donning my white trousers in the middle of January.

But don’t kid yourself into thinking fashion is not a top priority here in the Congo. Here are a few tips if you’re heading out this way or are already here and looking to boost your image:

Have a complet (matching top and skirt) made out of pagne fabric from the local market, preferably with some type of matching hair ornament. This will inspire your Congolese colleagues to comment on your authenticity and furthering your acceptance into the local culture.

If you have a spouse, the two of you can dress in the same pagne. Men generally have a button down Hawaiian-style shirt made from the same fabric as their wives’ complets. This is particularly handy at parties for others to identify you/your partner’s other half.

Taking this idea a step farther is the concept that at a wedding, you should definitely be seen in the same pagne as others. For instance, everyone from the bride or groom’s workplace will all wear the same pagne made into different outfits. The school friends will also wear their own pagne. This can facilitate identifying members of your party in case or severe inebriation towards the latter portion of the evening.

If you’re not a fan of the same pattern head to toe, no worries. There is a place for you too in the world of Congolese fashion. A mix match of bright and bold is very eye-catching.

The final option warrants the most investment from the wearer, both financially as well as in terms of the behavioural requirements that follow. Become a sapeur – the Congolese extension of haut couture of musicians and other jet setters, which Papa Wemba described as “The Sapeur cult promoted high standards of personal cleanliness, hygiene and smart dress, to a whole generation of youth across Zaire. When I say well groomed, well shaven, well perfumed, it’s a propriety that I am insisting on among the young.” Naturally this will involve the immediate purchase of designer jeans and a snazzy looking leather or fur coat to wear in this mild climate. To pull this off, make sure the label is on the outside of your clothes. And whatever you do, don’t smile.

Now speaking as someone whose closet looks like an advanced case of seasonal depression disorder, I can’t say I’ve made a big splash on the Kinshasa fashion scene. But if goth ever gets big here, I just might be in the running.

*May December’s leading lady is about my age and comes from the same part of the US as I do. Despite this, we seem to have completely opposite lives. Hence, the antiblog.

Still in purgatory

Life in Kinshasa has returned to what passes for normal around here, which was clear from last night’s visit to la cité, where loud music rules the streets and the advert Action Skol! promises one free Skol beer for every two purchased.

Last week’s bullet holes have begun to fade into the damage from August, although the talk around town is still on the fighting and what’s left to come. Everyone has their tale of where they got stuck and when they ran out of phone credit, cell phone battery, beer. A friend joked: Driving around, it looks like the city was totally destroyed. But then, it looked like this before! And everyone has their own theory on what will happen next, whether things will stay quiet or spark up again.

Bemba is still at the South African Embassy residence, where he is awaiting the paperwork to proceed to Portugal, where he owns a villa, for medical care (he apparently underwent an operation there last year). In a recent interview with the Chicago Tribune, he was asked whether he had ordered his men to disarm, to which he replied: I haven’t, not really.

While Bemba has agreed to Portugal’s requirements for his visit, including 90 day tourist visas for himself and his family - not an offer of exile, he has still not received permission from the Congolese government to proceed. Apparently although the rebel leader turned vice president turned opposition leader/senator’s arrest has been ordered for treason, the official warrant has not been issued by the court.

Among security circles, there is valid concern that even if Bemba is given permission to travel, the helicopter ride from the embassy to the airport –either in Kinshasa or Brazzaville- is enough exposure to pose a threat of assassination.

On a lighter note, TimeOut recently published this interview with Chéri Samba, a Congolese self-proclaimed painter-journalist who current has an exhibit on at the Tate Modern.

Mastering the art of communication

There are peculiarities to language that cannot be translated. For example, it’s hard for non-native English speakers to master the use of the word ‘get’. Us anglophones get up, get dressed and get some breakfast. One verb fits all. The Yiddish word ‘mensch’ is also a tough one, but is something akin to a good egg. The Swahili word ‘kabisa’ means absolutely but has an emphatic lilt that gives it the extra umph you don’t get in translation.

Here in Congo, like in many parts of Africa, we have ‘eh-hey’. It’s a cousin by marriage to uh-huh and is so multipurpose, you could probably get through an entire day saying nothing else. It’s useful for instances where a little reinforcement is need. I agree. Right on, man. But it’s also perfect for those sticky moments where you didn’t quite catch what the person said and are too polite (or lazy) to ask. I hear you, but I’m not ready to commitment to agreeing.

The phrase is also a good social diffuser and can be used to deflect those tricky inappropriate judgments: You’re a little old to still not be married. I heard what you said but it’s really none of your damn business and unlike you, I’m too polite to tell you where to shove it.

For the user, it’s quite effective. You can use it anytime and nearly any place, whether you’re responding to a francophone, lingalaphone or swahiliphone.

For the recipient of the ‘ey-hey’, things are a little more complicated. You’ve just been told to let sleeping dogs lie in some manner of speaking, but you’re not totally sure where you stand. Can you proceed with what you’ve just proposed or have you quite subtly been shot down? Hope your interpreting skills are up to par.

Sir Mix-A-Lot’s Paradise

Africans like their women big. At least that’s the stereotype us Westerners are told.

But I’m here to tell you that the stereotype is alive and well in the Congo. Some recent work with pharmacies around Kinshasa has revealed the existence a product called cyprohepadine (an antihistamine for you science-y types out there, relieving the consumer of allergy symptoms). The drug –which is referred to as a vitamin around these parts- also acts as an appetite enhancer.

You can see from the box (which is sold at 40FC or 8 cents for 10 tablets) that allergy relief is not quite the focus of the manufacturer’s marketing campaign. Here in Congo, cyprohepadine is recommended when you are sick to improve your strength. And it’s taken by women to ensure they have a nice big ass. Our friendly pharmacist tells us that this is one of his best sellers.

For real?

A Congolese pharmacist friend was explaining this exact phenomenon to an American in a restaurant when he found the perfect example nearby: a female fellow patron sporting a noticeably large posterior. The pharmacist called the woman over to compliment her generous anatomy, and she freely confirmed: Cyprohepadine? I take it all the time!