Goodbyes and Brazzaville (Revised)

After a lovely breakfast of pancakes and fruit at the Harveys' and goodbye number one—Kate, who was dreadfully sick with malaria, Marie Rose and hospital patients, Paige, Arwen, Mama Sarah, Judy, Papa Serge, Dr. Loes, Dr. Noe and myself, piled into the back of the Harveys' red truck, and the next thing I knew, we were leaving...Leaving everything that had become so familiar over the past four weeks. Yet those four weeks had seemed like an age, but also only like a day. The ache began to noticeably accumulate the day before we were to leave. I was having to say goodbye to people I had truly grown to love and appreciate. I love the Congolese culture. I love the way of life there. The people are brave, courageous and resilient, yet for them, the environment in which they dwell, it is simply their life. It is all they know. They live life to the fullest. They love. They laugh. Someone from America might say, “Life must be so hard there. How unfortunate to be born into such a rough, poverty-stricken culture.” Yes, although children do die because of infection, malaria or pneumonia, the young people I had the opportunity to interact with, have an innocence, a joy, a carefree spirit about them, that I feel is less and less common in the average American child. Television and video games consume the minds of our children, whereas children in Congo simply have each other, the outdoors and an occasional “Mondele” for their entertainment. I miss the children.

We spent some time relaxing at the Harveys after breakfast. I was told that we would “wait for the plane to fly over before heading to the airport.” Dr. Noe had a boat to catch to Kinshasa at 4 o' clock that afternoon. Time was ticking away, and still the plane had not flown over. Eventually we decided to leave anyway.

Five minutes later we arrived at the airport. I was so glad that Rufin had come on his motorcycle to say goodbye. By that time it was around 12pm, and he had been at the airport since 10am. He waited so patiently. As Dr. Loes says, it was time to “hurry up and wait.” We had given Papa Dario our luggage and passports earlier, so I am not sure why we had to wait for the next hour and a half, but we did. I grew very dazed during that time. I couldn't believe I was actually leaving! Life at the hospital had become so normal.

After some time the Samoutous arrived with Esther and Hannah. Cherissa and Dr. Henri would be traveling with us. All of us, except Dr. Noe and Dr. Henri (who would just fly to Brazzaville), would be flying to Paris, and then from there, sadly, we would go our separate ways. Joyce didn't stay long with Ezra and Karis. She hates waiting around when goodbyes are at the end of the waiting, as did I, but of course it could not be helped. I gave Joyce a quick goodbye hug (and now that I think about it, I don't think I even said goodbye to Ezra and Karis), before she headed home...goodbye number two.

Sometime during the long wait, Rufin broke out his paper and pen and proceeded to very intently and intricately draw me a picture of a truck. It probably took him about ten minutes, but the end result was quite impressive. He even wrote his signature and everything. I felt so honored to be the recipient of his finished product.

Then came the rush of goodbyes (number three, collectively). I was still dazed, yet a little less so after having drunk some water and eaten a couple of cookies from Joyce. To be blunt, the tears came. I shook hands with Papa Serge and Rufin, who is officially my Congolese brother from here on out, and gave goodbye hugs to Mrs. Harvey, Hannah and Esther. It was so strange leaving them behind. It felt so surreal, not quite right. Why did I have to be the one who had to leave? As I went through security I looked back as long as I could. I will never forget Papa Serge's smile and Rufin's kind face, and Hannah and Esther, my dear sister and cousin, as we made our way through the line. That moment is forever etched in my mind. I am so thankful for memories and for mental pictures. What would I do without them?

And then, the time to look back was over. I had to look ahead....to avoid bumping into the person in front of me. We boarded the plane, and before I knew it, we were taking off. I can still remember what I was feeling when we flew in to Impfondo, and I still remember my feelings when we left. I was coming into the unknown and then I was leaving the known. I looked down, and the dense green jungle, sprinkled with huts—homes of the people I had grown to love—slowly evaporated into mist.

On the flight I sat next to a man who works at the radio station at the hospital. I had not met him before though. His name was Andre. He spoke a little English, so we ended up talking for most of the flight. At one point we got talking about why he was going to Brazzaville. Because of the language barrier, it was unclear, but it sounded like he was going as a criminal. He was saying “ngai” (“I”) and pointing to his wrists to indicate handcuffs. I had an “Oh my goodness, I am sitting next to criminal” moment but his vibes weren't right if that were actually the case. Paige, who was sitting across the aisle from us, helped clear things up and we figured out that he was a judge (it helped when he finally showed us a picture—haha) and that he is going to Brazzaville to lead a court case—he does criminal justice.

When we arrived at Hotel Bravo, in a way, it felt like coming home. Everything was so familiar, when just a month ago, everything had been so unfamiliar. Dr. Henri was our “fierce leader” for the next two lovely days that we spent in Brazzaville. It would have been hard to fly directly to France from the Brazza airport. The transition, I believe, helped somewhat with culture shock. (At least I like to think it did.) Our two days consisted of eating out at La Mandarine (twice), walking along the Congolese river across at the DRC, going to the tourist market (twice) getting our hair braided (Paige, Cherissa and me), going to church and just having good fellowship together. I will touch on the highlights.

Saturday afternoon (I believe it was) Jeannichelle took Paige, Dr. Noe, Cherissa, Arwen and I to the tourist market. I had a chance to practice my bargaining skills and thankfully didn't fare too terribly. Of course when I asked Jeannichelle if I had gotten a good deal for two pairs of earrings, she gestured that I could have gotten them for cheaper. Dr. Noe didn't see what the problem was. He said something along the lines of “What's wrong? You got the earrings didn't you?”

Sunday morning Dr. Henri, Dr. Noe, Dr. Loes, Paige, Arwen, Cherissa and I went to a church a few minutes down the road from Hotel Bravo. It was a lovely church. The worship, which went on forever, was incredible. Arwen, Paige and I's faces lit up when the worship team led the congregation in a song in English. At this moment I can't remember the name. During the service, Paige made friends with a little boy who was sitting in front of us. She taught him the game where you blow your cheeks up and slap them with your hands, making a popping noise. After the service, I asked the little boy, in Lingala, what his name was. To this day, I do not know what I said or did, but he grew very angry with me and dug his sharp fingernails very hard into both my cheeks. The Drs., Paige, Arwen and Cherissa can all testify that I had marks following the incident. “War wounds,” I exclaimed, “after church in Brazzaville.” Dr. Loes put it simply, “Only Faith could get in a fight in church.” Paige suggested that Dr. Noe assess me for nerve damage.

After lunch we took a stroll along the Congo river, which was so lovely and relaxing. It was amazing to be able to look across and see the DRC, Dr. Noe's home town. I know he was really excited to go home. There were a couple people out in a boat, like little ants against the vastness of the river. I thought about Marie Rose, who fled for her life across that river. It gave me almost a haunted feeling—gazing on the DRC, hazy in the distance. Those were real people, with hopes, dreams and fears, who fled for their lives.

Our second, out of three evenings in Brazzaville, we went to La Mandarine via two taxis. Riding in the taxis always made life a little more exciting, when the traffic rules are essentially every man for himself and honk just to hear yourself honk.

Cherissa was especially excited to have icecream, as were Paige and I. Following our meal, Paige, Cherissa and I ordered ice cream (Arwen got some other desert), as well as convinced Dr. Noe to order some. Ice cream was his second “first” within just a couple of weeks (sweet tea that wasn't quite sweet enough was his first “first”). I ordered chocolate and strawberry. Paige and Dr. Noe ordered caramel. The whole time Dr. Noe was eating his, he couldn't wait to try my strawberry, and kept exclaiming that he wanted to try the “pink.” When we were both about halfway through, I took his caramel and gave him my strawberry. Perhaps he was a little surprised at my forwardness in switching our ice creams, but let it be known that I am not a germ freak.

I would say the highlight of our dinner was getting to hear Dr. Henri's testimony. Cherissa told me that she has heard it so many times, yet never grew tired of it. In that case, I knew it must be good. It was incredible! He shared how his parents had changed his same to Samoutou (meaning “no hope”) when he was born, because his ten or so siblings who proceeded him had not survived, so why would Henri? His mother died when he was four, and from that point on, he really began to turn in on himself and shut people out. He had no friends. One day he met a boy who told him about Jesus. Dr. Henri was only willing to learn more about who Jesus was if he could find an answer to his question of “If there is a God, why would he let my mother die?” This boy, who gradually grew to be a friend of Dr. Henri's matched him up with a lady from a local church, who was able to encourage him and give him wisdom about how God works through painful situations. Over time, God opened Dr. Henri's heart. One day, after he accepted Christ as his Savior, he knew God's call was for him to love people. No longer could he justify shutting people out. God was calling him to love others from the depths of his heart.

On Monday morning Jeannichelle, Paige and I went back to the tourist market because Paige really wanted to find an outfit. After some searching, she found a dress and shoes that she really liked. I really enjoyed getting to stroll around the market again, just observing people a checking out fun shops. It was also good to spend a little bit more time with Jeannichelle.

Upon arriving back at Hotel Bravo we said goodbye to Dr. Noe...goodbye number four. In our Congo family tree, he had been my dad, and in a way, it really did feel as though we were saying goodbye to family. We were informed that our plane would be stopping in Kinshasa on the way to France to refuel, so we told him that we would wave to him from the plane (the stop ended up being unnecessary).

Before we knew it, we were saying goodbye to Jeannichelle, a wonderful host, and her sister Talia—goodbye number five. Papa Honore drove us to the airport. We made it through customs and got our luggage checked without any trouble (Papa Adolphe was there to assist us). Goodbye number six was Dr. Henri, who had also, in a way, been my Impfondo dad. I was so glad that he had traveled to Brazzaville with us. It was truly amazing getting to know him better and hearing his testimony. What's more, he definitely has a goofy side, which wasn't all that apparent at first.

We boarded the plane that would take us to France. Flying through the night was exhausting and very strange. I did manage to sleep a few hours, as well as talk with Paige some. None of us were really processing anything at that point. We just simply couldn't believe that we were actually going home. Would Impfondo become like a dream? No. I wasn't going to let it. I was leaving, and I didn't know when I would return, but my experience in Impfondo and at Pioneer Christian Hospital is unforgettable. I will never forget the friends I made that truly became like family, namely Rufin, Berchavie and Marie Rose. I will never forget the healthy cries of a newborn baby, the grateful “Thank you's” of a tired but happy mother, the agony of a mother who has just lost her baby, the face of a little girl barely holding on to life, the joyful laughter of courageous and loyal women and the happy smiles of sweet little children.

Goodbye number seven (collectively) was goodbye to Cherissa, Paige and Dr. Loes in the France airport. In a way it felt like a buffeting from one goodbye to the next. In fact, I don't think I have said so many goodbyes in such a short amount of time in my entire life. It was really hard. I long for the day when we will all be reunited in the resurrection. What a blessing to possess the hope of eternity spent with the Lord and our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Goodbye Congo! Goodbye Pioneer Christian Hospital! Goodbye sweet children! Goodbye Marie Rose, Papa Boniface, Papa Urbain, Charnelle, Celeste, Julvain, Varly Andreas, Justine, Louise, Rufina Molly, Berchavie and Rufin—my Congolese family who loved me so well and accepted me. GOD BLESS CONGO! GOD BLESS IMPFONDO!