'Ou'-meaning to breath and 'tere'-meaning the body, is the sango combination
of words for rest. Thus, Clarisse and I spent the past weekend in ou tere.
Actually, since July we have been planning a weekend away in Berberati, the
second largest town in CAR, which isn't saying much for CAR, to visit her 3
brothers there and to wander around town, have fun and rest. I guess you
can consider it my Christmas gift to Clarisse in terms of paying our way
there. I haven't had so much yet since being in CAR. We stayed at the home
of her oldest brother who is quite the patriarch. He has worked for the
only well-drilling outfit in CAR for the last 15 years, owned by a Swedish
couple and recently handed over to an NGO to take over its operation. Her
elder brother, we'll call him Rex is now the head of their personnel and
such. He has managed to build quite a nice house, cement and metal roofed.
I was the first white person to be a guest in his house and he was so
pleased to have us. He set up two cots in the living room for us and we
slept side by side. The first morning when I woke up I had forgotten where
I was slightly as I rolled over to Clarisse and said "Good morning", in
English. She knows what it means but I quickly corrected myself. How
different it would be to not hear english for very extended periods of time.
For me it was only three days but it still felt strange.
Clarisse's other brother, third in the birth order also lives in Berberati
and close to Rex's house so we went over there to eat and visit. He too was
so excited to have us visit. He came over the morning we left to thank me
for visiting and to tell me how much joy I brought their family just by
visiting. Clarisse's youngest sibling is also in Berberati, living at Rex's
house. He is 19 and is still in school trying to get his graduate diploma,
similar to our grade twelve. Because of the cost of school most students do
not finish by the time they are 18 because they will have to stop and start
school again and again as they find ways to pay their school fees. I can
only describe him as a strapping, handsome young man with the brains to go
places in the world and the desire, but completely bound by circumstances of
poverty. While I was full of joy visiting amongst the cousins and brothers
and sisters and aunts and uncles of Clarisse, I was also filled with sadness
thinking about the future of these wonderful, good hearted, talented young
people, who, in different circumstances, would be entering top of their
class in university, but instead are left wondering about what their future
holds. I so much desire, as they do, for a future for them that is more
than searching everyday for something to eat, for money for school fees and
clothes to wear. Is there not some way to change their future so that it
includes hope for jobs, for less sadness and poverty and death and
scrounging for the bare necessities? I think if I were really rich I would
give scholarships to put foreign students from impoverished countries
through a Canadian college or university with the promise they would return
to their homes to try and make life better. But maybe that isn't the
solution either. All I know is that I can't get these young people off my
mind and I desperately want to make a difference in their lives here.
Well, back to the weekend. Saturday we arrived early in the morning after
getting a 5:00am start with Constant in the agroforestry truck. He was on
his way to Berberati anyway so we took our chance and got a ride with him.
After visiting all the relatives we set off on foot with Chris to the first
of two markets. The nearby market to Rex's house is considerably large,
though nothing at all like Yaoundé, and we wondered around looking at the
different vegetables, fabric and the various things for sale. Clarisse
bought curtains, (used), for her new addition to her house to help keep the
mozzies out. I nearly fainted as I was overcome suddenly by fatigue due to
the effects of the amoeba medicine I had just finished taking. After
resting some at a little shop selling beans and rice where we ran into
Clarisse's niece, Mesi, we continued on to her other brother's house for a
visit and some lunch. After lunch we took a short nap or siesta, which is a
total white person thing to do here but was much appreciated by Clarisse.
It was hot out and she fell asleep in an instant. When we woke up at 3:00
her relatives were teasing her and calling her white because she took a
siesta. She didn't mind though and we did the same thing the next two days.
In the afternoon Chris, Mesi, Clarisse and I went down to an even bigger
market to look around and stroll. Clarisse was in search of a few things
and I was just looking around. The funniest thing was Clarisse and gang's
reaction to the variety of cat calls and the like I get when I am out
walking around. People, young and old alike, love to call lout, "hey, look,
white person!" Or they start talking about me and don't realize I speak
Sango until one of our group says something to me and I respond back and
then that leads to more laughter and calling out 'hey, she speaks good
sango!'. I am quite used to being the centre of attention wherever I go
now, as if I am a circus act, but it gave Clarisse and them a surprise and
caused no end of laughter between us all. We found a brand new restaurant
in the area with cold drinks, cakes, real menus and satellite TV that was
beaming in a soccer game. I treated us all to cold drinks and we shared a
piece of cake that had canned peaches in it. A first for all three of them.
It was so much fun. Saturday night we sat up talking about all sorts of
things. Chris and his nephew, they happen to be the same age, go figure,
sat asking me all sorts of questions about the world of white people. It
was so much fun and once again I was so thankful for the ability God has
given me to pick up and understand a foreign language so quickly.
Sunday, we went off to church the morning and did more visiting and shopping
in the afternoon. We left Chris behind at one point and returned to the
market. When he learned we had left without him he sought us out in the
market, which isn't an easy task. He acted much like our body guard the
whole weekend. If a guy approached me and started to be a pest Chris would
step up and 'take care of him'. Given the circumstances I was glad to have
him around and it gave me lots to laugh about. I am sure Darren would thank
him. I am sure I can take of myself but it was fun to watch him step up and
take care of the white lady. Later in the afternoon Chris borrowed Rex's
motorbike and took Clarisse and I on a tour of the various cartiers and all
the way out to the airport, which is actually more than just a strip of
grass. It has buildings and a little control tower with most of its windows
in tact all the way around. The funny thing about it all was listening to
peoples comments and exclamations as they saw a white lady sandwiched
between to black people on a motorcycle. I felt much like a human Oreo
cookie. They figure the safest spot on the bike is the middle so I did what
I was told and got in the middle. I much prefer riding with Darren but the
breeze was nice and I once again provided the town with its daily
entertainment. No need to go to the movies tonight kids, we saw a human
Oreo cookie today! Chris, much the gentleman, took things nice and slow and
it was the highlight of our day.
Monday we had planned to return home with Constant but his truck was being
fixed in the ICDI garage and wasn't going be ready until Tuesday. Clarisse
had to be back on Tuesday in order to get back to work so we started to
figure out a way to get back. While we sat at the house getting our stuff
ready, Clarisse doing some last minute things at the market, Chris went in
search of a traffique. Normally, traffique's leave early in the morning but
by the time we found out Constant was going to stay another day it was
already 3:00. Around five o'clock Chris came speeding up on a motor bike
taxi to tell us that he had found a traffique with two places left but we
needed to leave in a flash (a real word used in Sango; flash). So we
mounted the bike and gave the town one more show and arrived just in time
for the departure of the last traffique of the day. A real traffique is a
12 passenger minivan that they stuff 16 people into and charge 2000CFA a
head to get to Gamboula. The inside of our's was full and had only one
person riding on the top. They can be dangerous in that they usually drive
too fast and are loaded with stuff so high that they easily tip over which
is not safe in the least. I was given a seat of honour in the front beside
the driver. Clarisse was put in the very back out my range to talk with
her. The unfortunate part of the trip was the soldier that squeezed in
beside me. He happened to be our soldier from Gamboula, currently stationed
at the customs office at the Cameroon border. He is a pain in the butt and
is always ready to harass us for bribes. Monday was no exception as he was
very drunk and had a loaded gun. He had the gun cocked and ready to shoot
the whole way, just waiting for his chance to shoot a bandit on the road.
He told me that if he had to kill someone on the way to Gamboula, a bandit,
I was not to cry. Yeah right buddy is what I was thinking. He was so drunk
he would have to stand five feet fm the bandit in order not to miss him.
After an hour of me removing his hands from my arms or leg and placing them
respectfully back into his lap he got the picture. The hardest part was
that he kept asking me question and I couldn't understand a word of what he
was saying. His sango is from Bangui, the capital, where they tend to slur
their speech and combined with alcohol I couldn't get a thing he was saying.
He was obviously frustrated and I just sat and kept silent. At the half way
point he bought some grilled beef and then drifted off into a drunken
slumber much to my relief. The driver kept asking me if I would be his
'friend'. Right! After all that I still think I would take a traffique to
Berberati again, since in the end it is worth the reward at the end of the
trip. The key is to arrive early so you can grab a window seat and then
Clarisse can squish in beside me. It took 3 hours to get back to Gamboula
and while it was good to be home we could have spent another five days with
out missing much, except Darren of course.
I think what was so neat about it was how it reminded me of my family back
home. How my dad's family tend to live in clusters in the same cities. 3
here, 4 there, and they help each other out, get together for meals and for
fun. I miss that part of my growing up and I found it in Clarisse's family.
Like my dad, she also has 11 siblings so there are many similarities. Rex
was off to another village Monday morning to retrieve some well equipment
but before he left he gave me a painting of an African scene he bought in
Bangui and a beautiful traditional stool as souvenirs of my stay with him
and his family. I could tell you all his merits and the kindness he pours
out on his family and orphans he looks after, but suffice it to say that I
am now part of a very special family that will forever be part of me. May
they feel welcome at my home anytime.
