Where to start?

Kinshasa is both entirely expected, and entirely unexpected.

I’m sitting on our balcony on the tenth floor of our temporary apartment. I have a beautiful view of the Congo River (or Flueve Congo). It is wide, and brown and, frankly, given its place in literature and history, a little awe inspiring to me. I can see whitecaps along the shore, though from my distance I cannot tell whether they are from waves or rapids.

There are flocks of crow-like birds flying around and cawing – all black, but for a wide white band about their neck and chest. It unexpectedly cool out. Much nicer than it was when we left D.C. in the sweltering and humid heat of late July. I’m sitting outside, but I have a sweater on, and my feet are a bit chilly. I’m looking at the pool in the complex and thinking I have no desire to be anywhere near it until the sun gets on this side of the building.

Horns honk in the distance, and earlier I heard a rooster crow, but for a city of 7-12 million people (estimates are wildly divergent) it is unexpectedly quiet. Last night we could hear the odd dog bark, but the sound of traffic was almost non-existent. Not at all what I expected after our drive into town from the airport, which was expectedly chaotic. It wasn’t so much about the traffic on the drive, but about the pedestrians. The main road didn’t appear to have streetlights to speak of, so it was virtually pitch dark save the oncoming and surrounding headlights, but there were pedestrians everywhere. And they crossed this busy road (think 4 lane mid-level highway) everywhere. They’d suddenly be right in front of our car trotting across the road and pausing between gaps in the concrete median (think 12-24” of concrete barriers) before trotting across in front of the oncoming traffic. Watching, it seemed to me that there must be multiple fatalities on a given night. But, in the same way I can never believe that there aren’t dozens of head on crashes on the twisty-turny roads in the English countryside where there never seems to be room for one car, let alone two, I suspect I’d be wrong about that if I could find a way to check.

This morning I jerry-rigged a filter out of a paper towel for the supplied coffee pot (seriously DOS folks, you give me a coffee pot and no filters? Not nice) and used the bag of coffee I brought with me, and the milk and sugar supplied by our amazing “social sponsor,” and now I’m sitting outside absorbing as much of this new view as I can, and I really couldn’t ask for anything more (expect maybe internet so I could actually post this…).**

B left for work at 7 a.m. dressed in a suit and probably not only still jet lagged, but also incredibly nervous. He looked like a diplomat though. Polished and poised.

C is sleeping like she is home; the full sleep of a child who has been in transit, but now feels safe.

And I am sitting here on this lovely balcony overlooking an abandoned building, a busy intersection and the Fleuve Congo, patting dry unexpected tears of wonder and joy that this is my life.

** Obviously we now have internet.  It is SLOW, but no slower than it was in 1994 when I moved to North Carolina!

In seven days C and I will wake up to our last day in D.C.  B will have left the day before, but he will only be going to New York for “consultations” (this is an oft-used word in the FS which has yet to be fully explained to me).  C and I, and Miller, the Dog, will be flying to Brussels and will wait for B there before we all travel together to Kinshasa.  Seven days loom both long and short.  We have been sure to plan lots of visits, dinners out, time with family and friends, and in the midst of all of that a pack-out, move out and a last day of school. I have no doubt that it will feel like a long time while we are in the middle of it, but I also know that seven days from now I’ll be sitting here (well, not here, but at some hotel…) and wondering how the last seven days went by so quickly.

Seven months ago I was just finishing up my year with the Firm.  I was working out my plans for telecommuting and planning all the extra time I’d have to go to the movies (the theater is across the street after all – super easy, right?!), read, write, sew and get organized.  Suddenly, here we are, at the end of July and I haven’t seen a single movie (at least during the day at the theater across the street), I’m still reading the same book I started at about that time, the shirt I’m making isn’t finished yet, and, well…organized…maybe, maybe not, depending on your definition.  Those months loomed ahead of me with days and days of promising fun, and, don’t get me wrong, they have been full of fun, but not in the way I had “planned.”

Seven years ago B and I were newly married.  We celebrated our anniversary on Sunday with a lovely dinner, some champagne and a bottle of wine that was a wedding present (which we couldn’t bear to possibly ruin by subjecting it to shipment to Africa).  Those seven years have seemed both interminably long and like we turned off the music and stopped dancing only a few hours ago.  My journalism professor, Wiley Hilburn, once wrote in my journal that “time is inexorable” and those words pop into my head unbidden at moments like this.  Moments when I am fully aware of the speed and slowness with which time moves.

Our pack-out is today, so we’ve been packing like it’s our job (well, I guess it is my job…).  Last week, B spent the week at Crashbang (so now you can take your pick as to who will tie your tourniquet).  I spent the week packing, and more importantly, completing our consumables shipment.  The total volume of our shipment was only 1,560 lbs…a mere 60 lbs past 3/4 of a ton.  Technically I did the majority of the shopping for the consumables at BJ’s, where the movers came to pack.  I arrived when the store opened with my very detailed list (honed over several months of aimless-ish wandering through the aisles) and managed to fill a flat cart and two regular carts (which, of course, are much larger than “regular” when you are shopping at BJ’s).  This was in addition to all the food and shampoo and toothpaste etc.  I’ve been hoarding for months. 

   
   
And so, in a few hours we’ll be back to the sterile corporate apartment we walked into last August and all that will be left will be to savor our last few days stateside with our family and friends while we listen for the last few notes of the fat lady’s song. 

And this time next week we’ll be beginning our final descent into Kinshasa and waiting anxiously to hear the first few notes of the new song of our lives in Africa. 

Ok, bear with me here – I’m trying out posting from my iPhone since I’m not sure when I’ll have access to a computer once we hit Kinshasa next Wednesday. I’ve got a much longer post coming with more details on our timeline/pack out etc…but as I’m sitting here waiting for B I figured I’d give you all a taste of what our consumables pack-out looked like last week. Our food/toiletries and other consumables (items we will consume in Kin) are on their way to Africa and they weigh…drum roll…

One thousand five hundred and forty pounds. Yup.  1,540. 

That’s a LOT of food. 
Here’s what that looks like: 

 
In words that is four personally packed containers, one full flat and two full carts from BJ’s and various and sundry personal boxes and bags from Harris Teeter, Target, Trader Joe’s and speciality stores from Charlotte to Canada. 

Now the guessing game begins as to how long it will take to get to us…and, once it does, how long it will last. 

Luckily we still have almost 1,000 pounds we can send later…