Coaching Pan African Youth for the US

Five students heading to the US for a 3-city, 3-week tour with their teacher Bovid Atouta, 
President of the Congo Fulbright Scholar Alumni Organization

One of the most enjoyable opportunities I have had here in Brazzaville is to work with young people who are earnestly trying to becoming fluent in English. I met many of them at the weekly English Club program of the US Embassy. Upwards of 80 young people come weekly to hear a short talk in English and engage in a Q&A afterwards. Some who come can recognize a phrase or two, like "Good question!" Others are skillful enough to get up and ask about American foreign policy in the Mideast and Ukraine.They can be tough.

Another group of about twelve meets every Wednesday to watch a film or an episode of West Wing. They take apart the fast talk and the sports idioms that abound to try to understand what is going on. Then they address questions like, "If you were president, what would be important to you?" On that one specifically, the answer was a resounding, "Jobs!" Unemployment is very high here, especially among youth. Some things seem to be universal. They want opportunity, just like our twenty-somethings who can't find work.

Recently when I ramped up my French study, I also became very involved in coaching a group of high school students who have been selected to represent Congo in the State Department's Pan African Youth Leadership Program this fall. All of them had participated in an essay contest during Black History Month and it was from those entrants that five were chosen based on their current demonstrated leadership, their English ability, and their essay. As you can see from the photo, four are young women and one is a young man. He is the only one who has another year of high school to finish. They all come from private high schools in Brazzaville.

According to the Department of State's partner in implementing this program:

This dynamic leadership development exchange program will bring together 72 African students and adult mentors in three cohorts from across Africa, for three weeks, to strengthen their understanding of civic rights and responsibilities, respect for diversity, and the importance of community engagement. Special emphasis will be placed on opportunities for economic empowerment and skills based development.

Each Friday morning I meet with the Congo group and their mentor in the Embassy Information Resource Center for 90 minutes. We practice conversation in dialogues and talk about alternative (polite or more polite) ways to say things. They ask me questions about the U.S., American families (they will stay with three host families each), and what the weather will be like. The first week or two they were a little shy about showing their English. But after Stro included them and their teacher in a big welcome dinner honoring visiting NBA and WNBA veterans (to which they all came beautifully dressed and used their English!), they have warmed up. The last day I spent with them, it seemed like a contest as to who would start a new dialogue first. I have seen their pronunciation and confidence grow in three short weeks. I am at the stage in learning French where I can be completely sympathetic. It seems like a perfect line-up.

In September they will travel with Bovid, who is a former Fulbright scholar and Kansas University grad, to Washington, DC, where they will join other African youth for the program. They will live with a host family and eat breakfast and dinner with them. After a week in DC, they will move to Chicago for a week, and then finally to Portland, Oregon, to close out the program.


In our final session together I explained the word "bittersweet," when I described my feelings about leaving. Then I gave them each a Vermont post card addressed to me and asked them to write me a message in English during their visit to the U.S. I assured them they could say anything so long as it is in English. I know it will be fun to hear from them.

They will see a subway for the first time, probably eat the inevitable Big Mac, and visit some of our best sights and institutions. Through their host families, they will establish a real connection with Americans who do not live in the headlines. But best of all, they will begin to see themselves and their whole group as future leaders of Africa. Given the very high proportions of population under age 14 in their home countries (in Congo the median age is 17!), they represent the vanguard of Africa's future. Only they can imagine it.

Brasseries du Congo

A label that is exported all over Africa.

On Friday afternoons, the US Embassy is officially closed, which does not mean everyone stops working. But it makes a good time to organize community activities. That's the job of the Community Liaison Officer, also known as "The CLO." This week our CLO arranged for a tour of the local brewery, called Brasseries du Congo. Never one to pass up a brewery tour if it is available, Stro signed us up as soon as she got the invitation.

Unloading bags of corn from France.

The Brasseries du Congo dates from 1952 when they got a license to bottle the Belgian beer Primus. It is located not far from the port in a part of town that is highly industrial/commercial. The operation is highly mechanized, so 30,000 bottles are produced hourly by only 400 employees. At least some of them are highly trained technicians managing the quality control testing and operating the computerized brewing and bottling process. Still, one of the three main ingredients used, corn, was being unloaded by hand this afternoon. The chief ingredients come from Europe: corn from France, hops from Czech, and malt from Belgium.The company is wholly owned now by Heineken, whose international quality standards apply. A range of labels is brewed here, the differences among them the result of variations in the basic recipe. Most beer is in the fermentation tanks for 13 days.

The factory also produces soft drinks, such as Fanta orange and Fanta grenadine. In addition, they make a low-alcohol shandy-type of drink under the Primus label called Primus Radler Citron. 

From small tube to bottle!

Almost all the African beer comes in glass bottles with old-fashioned caps. They look like a McDonald's Super Size Me drink. Except for Guiness and Heineken, the beer bottles contain 65 cl or about 23 ounces of beer. Brasseries du Congo is moving toward replacing the glass bottles and old-fashioned caps with plastic bottles and screw-off caps. They see big gains in breakage reduction and the sales angle that such big bottles of beer can be enjoyed on more than one occasion due to the screw-on top. We saw machines that take what look like test tubes and "souffler" them (blow air into them) to shape them into soda/beer bottles (instead of glassblowing, it is mechanized plastic blowing). Unfortunately, in the absence of recycling programs the empties are more likely to find their way into the river, gutters, or roadsides than be reused as bottles or turned into material to make something else.

Dusty Tembo bottles 

Trunk of a huge elephant
outdoor sculpture

Now, bottles get reused and caps are recycled into jewelry, household items, and objets d'art. One of the more interesting facts of life here for people who drink beer is that to buy a case of beer, one must present a case of empties of the same brand. This makes it hard to get going if you are entertaining and need beer by the case.  And when a beer suddenly is not available, one can get stuck with empty cases of no value. For example, due to a heavy border crackdown of all sorts by the ROC against DRC citizens who lived here without papers, one of the best beers in the region can no long be purchased in Brazzaville. Tembo (elephant in Lingala) comes from the DRC. We made sure to have some when we visited Kinshasa early this month. It was only when we got to the port on the DRC side that Stro thought to wonder if we could have brought her three empty cases and exchanged them for beer to take home (on the small motor boat with the TVs and other stuff). Alas no Tembo available on this side for the foreseeable future.


Beer is almost always served cold but unless one is drinking pretty fast, it gets warm by the time you're done. I try to talk Stro into splitting a beer with me for that reason. The custom when serving anyone a bottled drink is to open the bottle in front of them, pour some into a glass (or not) and replace the cap on top of the bottle. These two steps are essential in assuring the recipient that the beer has not been tampered with. It also serves to keep bugs out of the beer. 

A man's beer! 23 oz.

Some beers, such as Ngok (Lingala for alligator) are considered "a man's beer." I like the label, so have had Ngok on occasion, once to raised eyebrows. This brought back a similar memory from The  Netherlands many decades ago when I preferred ice cold jenever (Dutch gin) to sherry as an aperitif. Nice girls did not drink jenever shots.

Our brewery tour group totaled 14, all Americans from the Embassy and their guests (that'd be me). We not only got to taste the beer but came home with brewery bling--tee-shirts in the Primus bright blue with "Primus Ambassador" on the front. How perfect.

Life in Brazza: Villa Gentil

The greatest advantage of traveling and staying in one place awhile is that one's perceptions of the culture can actually evolve. A certain kind of appreciation for the way things are develops--as opposed to the usual in and out trips that conclude where they started, usually wondering why people don't do things like we do. So after a quick eight weeks with a few to go, I feel this appreciation growing. It does not erase the horrendous traffic, the public litter extraordinaire, or the need to be careful what water one drinks.

Brazzaville, especially after an all-too-brief flirtation with Kinshasa (10 times bigger), is kind of a big small town. Traffic at certain times of day is indeed horrendous. I have not yet figured out the rules of the road, but have happily observed that my daughter has mastered them. Motorcyclists often scold taxi drivers (2/3 of the vehicles are green and white taxis, mini-buses and big buses) about their driving errors. It's all friendly; no road rage. But begging forgiveness for cutting someone off by putting your hands on your heart in a mea culpa move is sort of unnerving. Add to that countless pedestrians, who navigate the roads at their own risk. And early (6:00 pm) dark-dark-dark. And dirt side streets with hills and refuse piles to navigate.

Le paillote , aka my some time office

Lizard friend

The "parcel" where I spend most of my time is an official US residence referred to as Villa Gentil, which means "nice house." This means for one thing that we have 

Twice weekly water truck delivery.

many comforts that are not available to all here. We have potable water, AC (not needed right now when it is a "cold" 70 degrees F.), a multi-system TV with more channels than I care to watch. There are bananas growing and a kitchen garden that promises masses of tomatoes at some point. In the back garden is a screened gazebo with electricity and a ceiling fan which makes a great office on a nice day. There is a yoga studio with a spinning bike and TV/DVD to support fitness goals. Like even modest residential settings, the house sits behind walls. There are highly professional guards at the gate 24/7. I have to alert them when my French tutor is coming so they will admit him. Villa Gentil is also only a seven minute walk to the US Embassy, which makes for a great commute for Stro when she doesn't need her car or isn't being driven somewhere for a meeting.

These tiny orchids are my fave.

Thanks to Godar, the gardener, the garden has grown and prospered in the past year. In fact, it is almost unrecognizable. Bougainvillea and trumpet vines now curl over the wall at the top and bloom, making the parcel inviting to those outside (and many small lizards and birds inside). Thanks to Chanelie, who keeps house, and Well-come, who cooks, we are fed and kept tidy and clean (including our laundry) and Stro is able to do the representational entertaining she likes to integrate into her work. When the power goes out (regularly), the generator comes on so the interruption is minimal. There are guest bedrooms and an office as well as large public spaces and a huge screened porch (complete with hammock) where we eat breakfast daily, all of which make for a terrific space to host parties, dinners, and the occasional promotion ceremony.

And thank to Team Gentil,

The fab porch

Stro has hosted many such events here since I arrived. They ranged from lovely casual lunches on the porch to sit down dinners for six to twelve to a rollicking dance party for 100, to special receptions for visiting musicians and basketball stars. Most visitors show a lot of interest in her art and photography as well as a growing artifacts collection (masks, musical instruments, etc,). It is definitely a Foreign Service house! I have had the good fortune to meet incredibly interesting people and through them have been able to put a few of the cultural and political pieces together. The one thing I know for sure is that there is a lot more to learn.

Family Entertaining

Stro with Erin Anna

Team Gentil (The house is named Villa Gentil), aka Chanelie and Wellcome, work very hard to support Stro in her own work. We decided it would be fun to give them an extra day off, bring in a guest team, and serve a lunch to them and their mothers and children. So we chose a recent Friday afternoon when everyone was available. I was excited to meet their mothers and the children, especially Erin Anna, my Erin Strother's namesake, who is all of six months old now and has long outgrown the little dress I knitted for her. 

Monica is entering high school

We enjoyed beverages and hot canapes of samosas and a hot pepper sauce and got acquainted inside before going out to the porch where we had two round tables beautifully laid with flowers and tablecloths. Wellcome's boys, Prodige (&) and Ilyes (3) and Chanelie's daughter Monica (14) were all equally shy and quiet. All of them had presents from Vermont, such as books, wooden toys, goat milk soap, maple candies. Erin Anna, who also got a pair of red Keds for when she is about one, was the center of attention and she graciously put up with being snuggled and hugged by all the adults. In fact, she is such a placid baby we did not see anything but stares and smiles form her all afternoon. But we must have worn her out because while we ate she crashed on the couch.

Crashed

Both moms are teachers and are on vacation at the moment. Leontine, Wellcome's mom, lives in Pointe Noire and comes to visit when school is out. Chanelie's mom, Monique, teaches here in Brazzaville. Everyone arrived beautifully outfitted in pagne, which we also wore as a sign of respect. Our guest hospitality team of Antoinette and Beaujolais offered us a substantial Congolese lunch featuring fish with vegetables, beef brochettes, mixed green vegetables (spinach and small green eggplants), and plenty of both rice and manioc root. For dessert they gave us a dish of fresh fruit, including passion fruit and mango, pineapple and bananas. 

Fish & vegetables

Ilyes and Prodige checking
out the hammock

When they got bored at lunch, the boys tested out the hammock. Their conclusion was not a wholehearted endorsement but maybe more like, this is weird.Then the real fun began. Stro has a new toy called a "ngongo." This one is very old and was used to send messages in the bush or village. After observing Monique play it, Prodige got brave and stepped up. In the meantime the grandmothers were making rhythms with the shaken rhythm instruments Stro collected on a visit to the DRC. 

Prodige on the "ngongo"

Chanelie with a tray!

The entire visit was relaxing (though we had to keep Chanelie from cleaning up) and fun. The conversation was mostly in French, which meant I missed a lot but could follow a respectable amount of the conversational drift. We tried to take a group photo at the end but it was starting to get dark.

Leontine and Monique add some rhythms.

Team Gentil

National Day Parties -Just part of the job!

Flying the flag when Mdme Charge goes out

I came to Congo in the dry season for the weather. So all the diplomatic national day celebrations that come in May, June, and July are bonuses. There may be some members of the diplomatic community who get weary of these chest-thumping national pride parties, but not Stro! During my time here we have enjoyed four such celebrations, including the parties given by Cameroon, Italy, the U.S., and France (we missed the EU party in order to attend the final African dance class--difficult choices abound). For the last one she is the Charge L'Affaires, so we rated the big car and flag. This could go to one's head.

Every one of the parties was fun and fascinating, but I have to give the Best National Day Party Oscar to....(strains of La Marseillaise)...France! This despite the longest speech ever given by an ambassador at such an event (he's new--he won't talk so long next year). They made up for that with buckets of joie de vivre among the 600-700 attendees, or maybe it was the free flowing champagne (only available after the speech). Before the speech they had open bars and --another drum roll--beer ON TAP. I think the beer on tap and the beanie weenies with mustard may have been the Alsace-Lorraine contributions to party planning. Someone said there was roast chicken to go with the French potato salad but it disappeared long before we found the table still loaded with French cheeses and pâté, which I may have enjoyed too much.

During the speech

The decorations looked like a Fourth of July promotion at the Dollar Store. They were everywhere, but they did not have the pièce de résistance from the American "do" earlier in the month, a big arch of red, white, and blue balloons that everyone got to walk through between the receiving line and the bar. And they had time to copy too. Large screens put us right into the parade on the Champs Élysées, complete with horses and bands and continual World War I era music (the kind we might hear in a 1940s movie about France) that got a few toes tapping waltzes and polka steps. Très festive!

The parties share a certain formality of access. Invited guests must present their cards at the gate. List management is a big strategic deal for the host (and heaven help us if someone important did not get an invitation). Some countries combine diplomatic aims with representational aims. That's "diplo speak" for whether they invite only Congolese officials, friends, and other diplomats or also add in their own nationals who happen to live or be visiting in Congo. Cameroon's party, held in a huge walled courtyard at the Embassy, included both groups but seating was separate and assigned (by rank on the diplo side!). The ex-pats included a soccer team. Until the rains came (heavy but over quickly and we were under tents), the Cameroonian Ambassador, his spouse, and military brass greeted guests in a receiving line after an invitation checker verified we were on the list. In our case, the Ambassador himself escorted us to our seats after we went through the receiving line (there is always a receiving line).

It's always a pleasure to see
Pamman, the Honorary Indian Consul.

The host country takes the opportunity of the national day celebration to honor its relationship and perhaps special bipartisan accomplishments in Congo. Some events feature more speeches than
others. Guests stand informally and behave cocktail party style--making conversation, greeting
friends, meeting new people. I confess I felt pretty special at Italy's event when the Egyptian
ambassador greeted me warmly as an old friend with the traditional two-kiss hug. And by now I am on hug-trade terms with the Italian Deputy Chief of Mission.

Three especially handsome guests at the US party!

Invitations may specify the expected dress, usually "business attire," since the party almost always starts at 6:00 pm on a weekday. After seeing what people actually wore, I decided that the code only applied to most of the men and it was a signal that the dress code was not formal (as in white tie). African women, official or not, are invariably decked out in marvelous styles and colors commonly called "pagne." The ready availability of designers and seamstresses here results in what seems like a continual fashion show. You may see the same print made into different styles. Every dress is unique. The Non-African women are usually more conservatively dressed, and by comparison pretty unremarkable, except for the simply dressed and incredibly chic French.

Rilla with USEmb friends Ashton, Jen, Chris,and Tim

There is always food and countries have good or bad reputations for the national day party
food (the Vatican party is reputed to be best but alas we were away when that took place). Two of the parties I attended featured served canapés. The Cameroonians put on a full court press with a huge
buffet we were invited to by row. The Americans had an open bar and the best samosas and mini-brochettes in the world, the Italians passed champagne, wine and water, along with pesto-stuffed cherry tomatoes and teeny dishes of pasta with teeny forks. Food serves as the signal the party is ending. When the French began to pass small cups of chestnut creme and sorbet, we knew they wanted to wrap it up. The Americans just closed the bars and the jazz band started playing much more quietly. Both approaches worked.

As the end of my visit comes into view, I regret I will miss the Congo celebration on August 15. but maybe that would be greedy. I think I have already had enough champagne and brie for this year.

Fun with International Borders

I am hopelessly behind in processing, let alone sharing, the many unique experiences of this trip to visit my daughter. But rising above some others is our adventure of  going to the "Other Congo," the Democratic Republic of Congo, directly across the river from Brazzaville.  A trip to the DRC sounded so simple. I got through the complicated and expensive process of getting a visa long before I left the States, but that was just the start.

One reason to go seemed obvious--it's right there across the river. Sitting at a river watering hole called Les Rapides, you can see Kinshasa in the haze. Another reason is that just about an hour north of the city is a bonobo reserve where it is possible to see bonobos rescued and protected from the bushmeat hunters. Then there is Woodin and Vlisca, both haute couture fabric houses that do not distribute on this side of the river.

Taking advantage of these possibilities required: a place to stay, a car and personal driver/port expediter on both sides, the aforesaid visas, and U.S. Dollars. And only crisp, never folded dollars in denominations of five and higher. We could not anticipate being able to use credit cards. Stro managed to accomplish all of the above through friends in Kinshasa who offered a house and car and vouched for a driver, Marcel. We figured if our host family hired him to take their children to school and their mothers to nail appointments he would be pretty reliable.

Getting out of Brazza involved getting our names on a hand-written manifest for a boat (based on passport and visa presentations). No commercial boat departs with less than a capacity crowd, so the published schedule is irrelevant. The day we crossed was grey (typical of dry season due to haze). The look of the launch was not exactly reassuring but they did have new life jackets for anyone who wanted one and we were inside (capacity about 40).  The crossing took about 20 minutes.

Then the fun started. I was about to have my second overwhelming cultural experience in a week. There are as many officials on the exit ramp from the dock as passengers. It seemed they all need to check our papers. We are trying to manage our bags while others are hauling in big screen TVs. People (mostly men) are everywhere and it seems they are all yelling and some are in uniforms. It's not great air quality and I have already been sick from same for several days. The first hitch is a guy demanding payment of a port tax, which our star Stro handled.

Then we hit an interesting wall due to the fact that a Congolese friend accompanied us. We were a party of three Americans, one a diplomat, and a professional Congolese woman. The  first objections had to do with how our friend was going to support herself while in DRC, the assumption being a single woman is a burden on someone or a threat of prostitution. She had a visa and a letter of invitation from an ambassador friend who represents another African country in Kinshasa. The port customs officer was not impressed. Our four passports got taken to three places and we were "invited" to wait in the VIP arrivals lounge, an air-conditioned experience we eventually paid five dollars a head for.

At some point in an extensive delay, they made our driver take the Congolese friend's phone to a place where he could print out and copy the letter of invitation. Bureaucrats everywhere need to have records. After two plus hours of waiting we were finally in receipt of our stamped passports and allowed to leave for our visit. Most of this standoff was a proxy fight with the ROC, which recently completed a police action deporting over 130,000 DRC citizens who were in ROC without papers. One small consequence of  this political act is a personalized form of retaliation against ROC citizens who want to visit the DRC. One guy even said, "Actions have consequences."

By contrast and only by contrast, the return trip out of DRC and into Brazza was uneventful. We still had a long wait until the manifest was full (fewer people are traveling back and forth since the deportations, so fewer boats) but this time did not get dunned for sitting in the VIP lounge.Then we made a mistake by paying our porter before he had our bags on the boat. You can see this one coming--he now wanted more money, which we eventually paid (pennies on his original extra demand) and the boat could then depart.

The return boat looked a lot more iffy than the first one. It was a small motorboat launch holding maybe 15 people. There were some life jackets. But the day was unusually sunny, we had life jackets, and the breeze felt great. I was also starting to recover from my malaise, though Stro was declining rapidly. The two of us sat up front in the bow and got giggles remembering other funny boat adventures we have had in strange places.

On the Brazza side, our driver was waiting. We had to fill out entry forms and wait quite awhile for the very manual process of checking and copying every passenger's passport and visa info into a handwritten log and then having other authorities (again, full employment for officials) check them.  After about an hour they let us finish waiting for our passports in the air-conditioned car. By then (having been early at the port in Kinshasa) we were starving and went straight to a great Lebanese lunch on the way home. I had seen yet another example of how my daughter's diplomatic skills, language skills, and big smile help her (and others) through the rough spots in an otherwise fascinating life.

Visit to a Maternity Center and School

South of Brazzaville, below the cataract when the Joue River joins the Congo to form a spectacle of rapids, Sister Maria Albina leads a group of seven nuns in two important missions. They provide prenatal and delivery care to mothers with uncomplicated pregnancies. And they provide preschool and primary school education (and basic health care and hygiene) for up to 250 children.

The 76-year of "Suor Maria" is Italian and has been in Africa for 50 years, 35 of them in rural DRC (the other Congo) and 15 where she is now. When the civil war ended, this order of Italian nuns took over the compound from another order that had been forced to flee. They left with everything moveable except for the chapel, which they left in order, right down to the vestments.

Since that time, the new order has redeveloped and expanded the compound to include preschool and primary education in newly built and sparkling clean buildings that include modern toilet and shower facilities for the children. Families pay about $12/month (plus a one dollar supplement for English instruction). The school census starts outta a high of 250 at the beginning of the year. As the year progresses and families cannot pay and in fact need more money, some parents take their children out of school and put them to work breaking up rocks by the river. The day we visited we found three parents busy sewing student uniforms in a classroom., using old treadle sewing machines. Two toddlers nearby had probably never seen whites. The little boy ran screaming to his mother when he looked at me. But the little girl just sat sort of frozen while we all fussed and took photos.

The maternity center is open 24/7 and the nuns rotate overnight duty for deliveries. They have two maternity wards with stainless steel framed beds and mosquito nets. The delivery suite (like the whole compound) is maintained so well that a group of Italian eye surgeons will be using it to perform ophthalmic surgery later this year. But women with serious complications have to be referred elsewhere. It is not supposed to work that way but the government  doctors assigned to visit do not come because the center is remote, per Sister Maria.

And indeed, it is remote. We left the southbound highway and followed a bumpy and curvy dirt road for what felt like forever, but was probably a couple miles. There are two access roads, one of which (the shorter one) is impassable in the rainy season. At the point where I began to doubt the route, a neighborhood of scattered houses and compounds appeared. There were many young children outside playing, who stopped to stare as we bumped through. Then at last a simple walled compound appeared. As with many of the walled compounds I have seen, the outside gave no hint as to what lay behind the gate.

I was privileged to make this visit because two Italian friends, one of whom is an ophthalmologist with WHO, had made the arrangements and agreed to take me along. Most of the communication was done in Italian, the friends and Sister Maria all happy to have a chance to speak it. My friends were tireless in translating and making sure I knew what was being said. Even though the visiting priest was waiting to say mass at 5:00, Sr Maria insisted we have a cup of real Italian coffee.  She puts up with many inconveniences, including a monthly bout of malaria (acquired years ago in the DRC), but she told us she could not live without her Italian coffee machine. There are some nights when that is all that can keep her awake with a woman in labor!

Poto-Poto

Poto-Poto is a large district within Brazzaville that is densely populated and highly commercial. Many immigrants can be found here running, for example, Lebanese restaurants. The areas seems to be informally organized into sections by what is on offer. There is a whole area that is filled with fabric shops, which was the reason for my initial visit to Poto-Poto.

Like the carpet sellers in Istanbul, the guys sit at the edges of their open air shops and try to persuade customers to enter. We did not get any proposals of marriage, as Lily did in Istanbul, however. Every shop sells basically the same thing--pagne in stacks from floor to ceiling, somewhat organized by price and quality. There is no organization by color. So it is a riot of color and prints. Fabric comes waxed (better quality) and unwaxed. It is all imported, some from as far away as Europe and Asia. But the colors and patterns are distinct to the Congolese market.  Pagne is sold in 5 meter lengths, about 46" wide and is priced by the piece. The asking price for the best fabrics was about 18,000 Congolese francs or about $36.

Poto-Poto Shopping Team - Stro's dress is from pagne

Entering the first of several shops, my eyes just crossed. I did not know where to look first. By about the third shop, I figured out that the key was to focus so as to eliminate anything that was not right and then look specifically for the colors of interest. We had color samples with us, of course. This shopping mission was inspired by the reality that Stro's much-loved Mexican fabric purchased 15 years ago is now faded and dirty and the covers are not removable. So we were looking for blues and yellows to match the tabletop blue and yellow tile, with a mild orange and aqua, which are the other colors in her Mexican pottery.

Our final choices for two sets of chairs and a bench.

Chanelie, the housekeeper at Villa Gentil, and Romain, a friend, went with us. Thank goodness. Once we found the fabric we thought would work, Chanelie took over to bargain for the price and came up with 6,000 CFA per pagne rather than 18,000. I am not going back to Poto-Poto without her. So we got all the fabric for 10 chair cushions and a bench cushion for $80. Now we have to find an upholsterer who can make cushions with zippers to make them easier to remove and wash.

Although most shops are grouped by products, occasionally you will see an oddball. Just across the street from the shop where we bought the fabric we saw a hardware store or quincaillerie with a slogan on its sign that says, "Mon mari est capable," or "My husband is handy" or maybe "It's so nice to have a man around the house!"

Today's Hat--Film Discussion Facilitator

Today I was the guest facilitator for the weekly English-language film club at the US Embassy. This is a public program offered by the Information Resource Center, which also provides computer access during the day for working on resumes and college applications, researching potential places of study in the US, etc. There is a small lending library as well.

The Foreign Service Officer who normally coordinates the film group (they like to watch episodes of West  Wing) is on vacation so I had the good luck of being invited  to fill in for the showing and discussion of the 2005 Best Picture awardee, "Good Night and Good Luck." You may recall this film covers the period of 1953-1958 and the role of the CBS News and Edward R. Murrow and Fred Friendly in fighting the shenanigans of Sen. Joseph McCarthy.

I warmed to my assignment by watching the film yesterday at home and preparing a handout with a summary, background on Murrow, context for the film, some unusual terms ("loyalty oath") and some discussion questions. I love this film, so you could say I was a pig in muck with this assignment (which is based in part on the fact George Clooney plays Fred Friendly). It also happened to be a perfect follow-on for last week's US Department of State visiting journalist, which is why it was selected.

Ten young men presented themselves and had a few minutes to read through the handout before I introduced the film. I realized while previewing it that this was likely going to be a big challenge, even for advanced English-speakers. The film assumes so much knowledge of American popular culture (references to Rin-Tin-Tin and Howdy Doody, a clip of a Liberace interview) and US history and the US Constitution that I warned them at the outset it might be difficult but just to listen and get what they could. In addition, it is almost all dialogue and there is a lot of sarcasm and fast repartee among the characters.

Four of the nine spoke up audibly after the film. They asked questions ranging from "What is scotch?" (an awful lot of it is consumed in the movie) to "How did Murrow  propose to compete with the USSR on ideas, not just bombs?" We talked across freedom of the press, transparency in government, the Cold War, and what else was happening in the US at the same time (Brown V. Board of Education, increasing numbers of women in college--thank goodness it was pre-pill). I offered to let them go on schedule at 4:00 but they had more questions and seemed determined to get answers.

At the end, I turned the tables on them and asked them why they attend the weekly meetings. One young man wearing a blue blazer (everyone else was in tee shirts or polo shirts) explained he has been coming since January because he got an invitation! His English is quite advanced and he sees this as an opportunity to learn more about the US, content issues, language; his dream is to visit and study in the US some day. He also thinks English will help him no matter what in the job market. Three others said something similar--to learn and improve his language. My guess is that they ranged in age from 19 or 20 to maybe 25 at the most. I invited them all to come to English Club at Villa Washington tomorrow at 5:00 for a discussion about traditions that celebrate mothers. Now let'shope I recognize the ones who come!

Cape Town Around Town

One of many views from the apartment

We had the great good fortune of a friend's hospitality (the Foreign Service is like that) in Cape Town. We stayed at her waterfront marina apartment while she was away visiting family in Australia. This apartment was very close to the V&A Waterfront, which meant we could walk to restaurants, the boat for Robben Island, endless shopping, the Ferris wheel and the Springbok Rugby Museum, among others. We looked across at The One and Only Hotel, whose spa we visited on Friday.

When we were "in town" we got around very easily in taxis, which are all metered and seldom cost more than three or four dollars. Two destinations in town that we enjoyed a lot were Table Mountain and Robben Island. We did both in the same day, starting on the 9:00 a.m. boat to the island. The trip takes about 50 minutes but it was a beautiful day without much chop or wind and the scenery surrounding the harbor was endless entertaining.

Photo opp--Table Mountain from Robben Is

Once we docked at the island, we transferred to two large buses. The Japanese tour group took one, with their own translator, and the rest of us took the other with English-speaking guides. We made three stops where we were permitted to get off the bus. The first was clearly a photo opp looking back at Table Mountain and Cape Town. The other two permitted us to see firsthand parts of the prison complex, including the isolation area where Robert Sobukwe, former leader of the PanAfricanist Congress, was held for many years.

The final stop permitted us to visit both the general political prisoner area and the (mostly ANC) "political leadership" area. The latter is where we saw Nelson Mandela's incredibly small cell, where he lived for 18 of his 27 years of imprisonment. This part of our tour was led by a former political prisoner, a man who entered Robben Island an angry young man (his self-description) at age 20 and left at age 32, his 25 year sentence reduced by the amnesty program. As with the District Six Museum, hearing the story from someone who experienced political imprisonment added an authenticity that could not be achieved any other way. He has been doing
tours for 12 years, no longer lives on the island, and talked about how painful the process was at the beginning, but also how it has helped him heal.

Due to the pace of the tour, we were really unable to linger and only had time for a few questions. The entire compound has been cleaned out except for a few examples of cell "furnishings." It is unnaturally quiet and clean. The village of Robben Island, which we drove through, houses about 200 people, all of whom work on Robben Island. It seemed oddly like a ghost town since we did not see any people--just the church, tennis courts, schools, houses.

On the Ferris Wheel

Coming back to harbor

Catching the rays

At the end of our return boat trip, the sun was shining warmly and we took immediate advantage to en joy a ride on the Ferris wheel--four rotations around with fantastic views of Table Bay and Table Mountain. After a sushi lunch on a sun deck we grabbed a taxi for Table Mountain. Who knew if the sun was going to stay with us?

Off-season travel advantages struck again at Table Mountain. No lines at all for the cable car. Relatively few people and we were able to distance ourselves from the whiny American college students quickly. From our apartment's kitchen and guest room windows we had a full view of the mountain--usually shrouded in fog through the morning. But this day was blue-sky clear. We found the apartment complex from above and looked south to Camps Bay, with a wide beach and lovely second homes. Although many animals live in the park we saw only a few dassies, the small brown groundhogs. They could have cared less about our presence--just kept nibbling on their food or basking in the sun out on an exposed rock surface.

No-so-wearable-art: skirt made from grasses and plants of RSA

Generally speaking, the South African economy looks like it is booming--though recent concerns about a drop in credit rating may suggest otherwise. The quality and variety of foods and goods available at reasonable prices as well as the surprisingly well-swept streets (no litter anywhere) was a stark contrast to Congo, where most goods are imported and relatively costly and substantial refuse is a part of life. On the other hand, as we drove around we also saw settlements or townships that were shanty towns housing thousands of people in thrown-up sheds of corrugated metal or plywood. These areas have uncertain water and electricity supplies and poor sanitation. They do not lack for satellite dishes, however, which seemed an enigma. Is TV an escape from the harsh reality around them or a way to keep a toehold on  hope--or both?

Wine Country!

Venturing into wine country--just an hour from town--on a brilliantly sunny winter day was quite the treat after Cold and Rainy Monday. The winter vineyards sported a burnished gold look. The grazing cattle and sheep seemed like details placed to enhance the setting. There are 9-10 wine areas in South Africa, most of them near Cape Town, including places with well-known names Constantia, Stellenbosch, and Franschhoek. These areas are akin conceptually to Sonoma, Napa, Marlborough, Rioja, etc.

Fairview reflecting pool

The long driveway at the first stop, Fairview, is lined with bird of paradise plants--all blooming just now. The sprawling white Dutch farmhouse that is the tasting center features atranquil reflecting pool and a goat tower--literally a tower with a spiraling stair on the outside. The goats go in and out and up and down and presumably at some point are allowed into wider pastures. A very handsome billy goat with a beard to rival Mark Murray's showed off by going up and down and around the spiral staircase.

At Fairview we indulged in a prearranged "master tasting" of cheese (recall the goats) and wine pairings. Of about 7
cheeses only one, a Gouda with cumin seeds (my all-time favorite Dutch cheese) was  imported. The rest, both cow's milk and goat cheeses, were made at the farm (and available in the shop). The tasting took place in a large hall dominated by a chandelier made from curly goat horns. The wines were also produced at Fairview, which is in the town of Paarl (pearl). We moved from comparing two Sauvignon Blancs of different vintage across the spectrum to the South African creation (now copied elsewhere) called pinotage, a combination of pinot noir and hermitage. The idea was not only to taste the wines but also to see how the combination with particular cheeses affected the taste. It was all good! This was about 10:30 a.m. Quite a way to start the day!

Fairview cheese and wine pairings

Fairview set a high standard for the rest of the day as we headed north into the area known as Franschhoek (French corner), named for Huguenots who settled there when they escaped from France. The Afrikaaners welcomed them on the condition they must drop French and learn Afrikaans, a deal they accepted. 

We then seemed to enter into the alternate reality of travel writing in the style of Lilian Langseth-Christiansen, who wrote for Gourmet Magazine in the 1980s. Her articles comprised my travel agenda for years (recall the Grand Asparagus Tour in Germany!). There we were with Lilian by our side entering a long drive through an arching bower of trees. At the end we were in front of a classic Dutch Farmstead, painted white with dark green shutters. This was the home of Graham Beck, a big name in South African wine, who died just a few years ago. His farm and property were purchased by his neighbor Antonij Rupert. The house looks like it should be a high-end (very high-end) B&B but for now it is simply preserved in the way it was used by Beck. The main floor rooms are very spacious, with high ceilings and floor to ceiling windows. The dining room is set for a wine tasting for maybe 35 people at one long highly polished table. Two bedrooms and the main parlor are sumptuously furnished with antiques and fabric that begs for a touch.

Rupert whites

Most famous for their Methode Cap Classique, they were regrettably unable to give us a taste, having long ago sold out their inventory. This wine is the South African version of champagne, a term that is legally the property of a region in France. Instead we did a tasting of four white wines--sauvignon blanc, riesling, semillon and chardonnay--produced on the Rupert properties. The sauvignon blanc that came from vineyards at an elevation of 500 meters was the best, in my opinion. The chardonnay here and elsewhere had very little oak by comparison to California or Australian chardonnay.

Beet-goat cheese souffle surrounded by other beets at La Motte

Our drive to lunch at another vineyard, LaMotte, was marked by views of the aptly named Drakenstein (dragon stone) Mountains, covered at the highest peaks with snow. It is not enough snow to ski but it was beautiful at a distance on a sunny day. We did not do a tasting at LaMotte but settled instead for a fabulous three-course lunch with wines produced there. 

NG Church in Franschhoek

We ended our day browsing the village shops in Franschhoek, which would be as great weekend destination--lots of lovely B&Bs and nearby wineries. Good roads for biking, fun shops, a picturesque Dutch Reformed church, a memorial to the Huguenots (thought about Stro's Grandma Jacot). As we left the village, the trunk was full of wine and other acquisitions. I was starting to wonder how we were going to get it all home to Congo.

Arrangements for this day, indeed for most of what we did in Cape Town, were made by Raymond Carelse, a Concierge Extraordinaire. So extraordinary that on the way back into town from our big day of wines he got a call saying we could have a table at The Test Kitchen that night at 8:30. According to locals, this is simply unheard of. One usually waits six months for a table. But Raymond has made friends with Katje, the reservation goddess, and she had a last minute cancellation. We did not hesitate to say yes, but it took a nap and a bath for me to regroup! We'd had a lot of wine.

Tasting Menus and Wine Pairings - The Best of Cape Town's Restaurants

I feel compelled to begin with the family qualifier to all matters culinary, "Not that food is important." Of course, at times it is all-important and Cape Town was one of those times and places where we went for the gold, with help from family, friends, and the capable Raymond who gave us suggestions.

Tasting menus and wine pairings--where you have 4, 5, or even 8 courses with wines specifically selected to go with each course--seem to be de rigueur in the Western Cape. This must be part of a concerted effort to promote South African wines, which are the only wines on the menus. And well they should be promoted, especially the whites.

We managed to survive three consecutive evenings of fine dining, two of which featured tasting menus. The three restaurants were in Cape Town. The Test Kitchen is the current hot spot. Its decor is somewhat industrial and it is located in a renovated complex called The Biscuit Factory. During the day many high-end shops offer all kinds of discretionary spending opportunities, including clothing and crafts. On Saturdays there is an open air farmer's market there as well. That is on the "next time" list for sure.

Key to dessert art: squeeze bottles.

Our last minute seats at the Test Kitchen were at "the chef's table," meaning we sat on bar stools overlooking the preparation of food. In our case, we watched desserts and palate cleansers being prepared all night. In fact, we got way too invested in how "our two dessert guys" were doing (mostly great) and did not like the intrusions of a supervisor who scolded them (the supervisor looked like Doogie Howser). The current style of cooking that uses multiple ingredients, most of which turn out to be unrecognizable in the final product, certainly governed these desserts. But we got a lot of great ideas for presentation, including how to create a swirl of mango puree with a small paintbrush. That's just for starters. We also watched them broil sheets of paper-thin meringue that were then removed from the baking dish and scrunched into erstwhile baskets for another dessert. Obviously, we got caught up in the scene before us and lost track of time. Our foods, especially my main dish of fish, were wonderful and appropriately portioned.

Seafood course at TK--Food As Art

Next up was La Colombe, which we enjoyed with friends from the U.S. Consulate (and William and Mary) and her visiting mother, a professor at Howard. La Colombe is located in Constantia, which is now a near-suburb of the city. The restaurant has recently been bought out by the chef and will relocate in September. It is currently in the middle of an old farm/winery which has been in limbo for years. We used the a la carte menu here. The food has a striking resemblance in presentation and description to what we had seen at The Test Kitchen. It turns out the head chef at TK used to be at La Colombe. Our friends were disappointed their "personal sommelier" was not working the evening we were there. We did not suffer a lack of great wines despite his absence.

On Friday evening, after a restful day of spa treatments, we headed to Buiten Verwachting, which had been recommended by Jim and Sharon Rousmaniere. The name means "Beyond Expectations" in Afrikaans. Also in Constantia, this restaurant is part of a large farm and now has several event venues. It is a popular spot for picnics and weddings. As it is winter now, we did not have a good view of the setting because it was already long past dark when we arrived at 7:30. In fact, we drove some distance after entering the property--without the help of any lighting. When we arrived at the restaurant it was so dark we wondered if we had made some mistake and they were not open!

Chalmar steak tartare with quail egg and delicious
accompaniments at Buiten Verwachting

Fortunately they were not only open but waiting for us. We started with a glass of Methode Cap Classique while we perused the menu. It did not take long to opt for the tasting menu with wine pairings and we were escorted to a lovely table that in the light of day looks out on a veranda. Three courses stand out in my memory as among the best food we had, among many wonderful offerings. The first was a plate of steak tartare from local beef, topped with a raw quail egg planted in the top and surrounded with teeny scoops of things like minced gherkins, anchovies, egg whites, egg yolks, olive tapenade, and tiny triangle toasts. The next memorable course was a seafood chowder served in a wide bowl with a mound of seafood in the center surrounded by a creamy broth that had been whipped into a foam. Finally, perhaps the most memorable course was springbok, an antelope that is the national animal and also provides the name for the RSA rugby team. It was served much as one might see a rack of lamb served in the U.S. The meat was very lean but rich and it was surrounded by small offerings of six or seven vegetables. All the portions at Buiten Verwachting were larger than elsewhere and larger than one might expect in a five-course meal. It reminded me of great restaurants in The Netherlands that offered French-style food in generous Dutch proportions with "diverse groenten" (different vegetables).

With this meal, our week came to an end. We had three hours of sleep before our airport pick-up by Raymond. I felt as if I was still digesting dinner when we got to the airport. I couldn't even drink coffee until we got home. But what a way to go out!