The "I Miss" Mantra

We are in the final hours.  We'll head to Kinshasa via Istanbul on Friday.  It's that time where the emotions are incredibly conflicted (i.e. hysterical sobbing during Downton Abbey is not really normal) and for me, at least, it means that I just want to get on the plane. The anticipation of the countdown is grueling. Lots of folks have written about the weirdness that goes into the nomadic goodbye - maybe they can explain our issues.

LouLou at this very moment. What the what?!
(Found as we were going through old stuff for the storage space).
Can we say "regression"?

Practically, however, we have to figure out how to pack our eight crates (these are the best should you ever be in the market for what airport personnel call "missionary trunks") full of the things we thought we would *need* for another year in Kinshasa.  Rolled oats, Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap All-One, bug-proof food storage, hazelnuts, and Epi Pens have made the cut so far.  So did two boxes of macaroni and cheese.  And a ridiculously expensive candle.  Ahem.

So, while Johan does that (he likes it, weirdo), I'm thinking of the things I particularly miss about our life in Kinshasa.  Like:

1.) A routine.  They say children crave routines.  Well, so do adults.  I miss the ins and outs of our daily lives with all the people that includes - our neighbors, school friends, teachers, students, and mostly the Mamas.  I can't wait to catch up with these women whose lives intertwine with mine.  Facebook chat just doesn't cut it.

Mama Vida, LouLou, and Mama YouYou

2.) The porch.  I really love our porch. We eat breakfast out here every day.  French lessons take place here.  It's best during a rainy season downpour.

Tchic and Elias during French lessons.  (Tchic, I'm sorry I didn't email you in French like I was supposed to.)

Downpour at dusk.

2.)  Jambo Juice.  I've tried a variety of $11.99 cold-pressed-coconut-lemongrass-etcetera juices while in the States this summer.  Congolese-made Jambo Juice still wins.  Especially the lemon. Mmmm.  

Image from here.

3.) Pili pili by Mama Vida.  We're almost out of the gallon she made us to last the summer (yes, we carried hot sauce with us in our luggage).  

Hands of steel.

4.) French.  I miss French and Lingala.  I was truly sad when I heard LouLou playing in the other room with a group of dolls yesterday...speaking to them in English!  It's time to get back to a land of many languages.

5.) Dr. Laure's clinic.  There were a series of events last year that changed Dr. Laure's life and the plans Sarah and I had for regular visits to learn more about her work as an OB/GYN.  I am hopeful we will see her very soon.  I'm also eager to hear more from the doctors, nurses, and others working to build a new maternity hospital in Kinshasa.  Their work is so complicated and important.  

Construction at the maternity hospital.  June 2013.

I can't even begin to make the other list.  The list of everyone we will be leaving 7,000 miles behind for another ten months and what that means.  

So, the above five points become a mantra for the coming days.  One, two, three, four, five, and breathe.

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Friday List

Sarah's List:

New theory on morning sickness. Totally fascinating and worth reading to the end. Don't let the title throw you off. Or maybe it will suck you in.

I read this article a couple years ago when it first came out. It's resurfaced and is as interesting as ever. On ducking from divorce.

Would you ever take a vacation by yourself? I have twice this year...well okay I was with other people, but got in a lot of alone time. I definitely recommend it. Especially when you stay at this place.

  by  paul bica 

Responsibility begins at conception. Pretty sure a daily back rub during pregnancy should be included in this law. I totally had Adam convinced this was a medical necessity during my pregnancies. Almost worth being pregnant. Almost.

It's guaranteed the word "bandwidth" will come up in about 75% of our conversations in Kinshasa. Looks like Congo might soon join the 1990s in internet advancements. Does this mean there's a bigger, better, faster Mama Congo coming soon? Probably not. But thanks to Josh Baugher for keeping us apprised of what's going on at home.

Jill's List:

Really happy we are paying someone to do our taxes this year.  Working abroad suddenly made the old standard of Johan + Turbo Tax seem a little novice.

Remember our dedication to Moroccan Oil for Congo-induced frizz?  I'm being lured in by the pretty packaging of another product...

So happy this comes in gallon size.

Elias told me yesterday that he only likes it when we travel "back to Harrisonburg." Then he paused and added, "Or Congo, or Spain, or Dublin, or Cape Town."  Mark Bittman on travel.  I really liked this bit:

The humility required for genuine travel is exactly what is missing from its opposite extreme, tourism.

Did you know that "Full Episodes are not currently available"?  Now that I actually can stream, I can't watch the Colbert Report?!  What the what?  Sounds like there's a fight going on...

Need to read up on this before we leave.  Gotta get in my Federal Post Card Application...

Will be referring to this guide starting tomorrow.  Johan and I are off (sans kiddos) to Brooklyn for the weekend.  Wahoo!

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Fake-shopping

I have developed a serious fake-shopping addiction since moving to Kinshasa.

It mostly involves jcrew.com.  Sometimes kiehls.com.  Often the "natural" section of sephora.com.

(No underwear though.  Those sites are all blocked on our super student-safety-centered iBoss internet security system.  As is Target.com.  Go figure.)

This is how it works: I carefully examine the website (usually while Johan is being a good parent and reading long bedtime stories to Elias), putting anything that catches my eye into my fake cart.  A sweet French-ish dress for Lou.  A hot pink leather belt for me.  A trendy hair pomade that Johan definitely needs.  Some awesome round kid's glasses for Elias.  Six pairs of multi-colored matchstick jeans.  You  know, all the essentials.

An image from the spanish subvertising group ConsumeHastaMorir, www.consumehastamorir.org

When the fake-total of my fake-cart borders on enormous, I then force myself to whittle it down to the "reasonable" realm. (Thinking that I will actually be purchasing these items?)  At this point, my fake-cart sits there in cyberspace for weeks.  Until it times out, erases my goods, and I'm forced to start all over again.

Yes, I really do this.

But, you have to understand that when we moved here, I packed extremely light.  I was more concerned about fitting eight bottles of Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps All-One! into our 10 plastic trunks than a good wardrobe.  So, my theory at the time was to pack all black.  Mix-n-Match.  So, I almost-literally packed an entirely black wardrobe.  Which, has led to me being cornered in school bathrooms by missionaries and asked why I "always wear black."  Luckily, my reply to this concern ("I was making space for thrifty concentrated soap!") is more than acceptable and has actually earned me respect. 

Don't get me wrong.  I still love the power of all-black.  But, living in a country where everyone drapes themselves in the most beautiful of insane color at all times, I find myself feeling incredibly drab in my practical, French (that's what I call it) uniform of all-black.

  by  United Nations Photo 

Which leads me to obsessively fake-shop for hot-pink leather belts.  And red pants.  And green sandals.

  by  actionhero 

While I (obviously) love my American online shopping, it's Vlisco that dominates my current dreams.  The perfect collision of pagne and design.  The company's fantastic billboards shock me every time.  They are unlike anything else around them in this city.  (or the Universe.)

The other day, I went to their beautiful showroom in downtown Kinshasa and found it closed.  The guard said I could window shop.  So, while the police loudly harassed an accused voleur next to me, and Kinshasa haphazardly passed behind me, I pressed my nose to the window and fake-shopped high fashion locally. 

I continue to fake-shop with great frequency.  I've only actually tried to order one thing for real.  But, that order quickly got lost and never arrived in Central Africa.  My red pants are who knows where.  I'm seriously considering getting myself some incredibly expensive Vlisco fabric as a 30th birthday present to myself...

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