Doug and Carrie Melvin of Boise, Idaho are committed to working on African fish farming and harvesting efforts. Doug Melvin was in Zaire for Special Forces and Carrie (that’s me!) worked as a Peace Corps volunteer in Africa.
This is part two of the fourth in a series of letters I wrote describing working and traveling in Africa.
Letter #4 Part 2
10 January 1989
New Year’s Day a few of us borrowed a canvas boat from the Center’s storeroom and decided to go for a casual row on the lake.
It was a beautiful day in our leaky boat, and we were having such a great time we lost track of time and direction. When a sudden storm hit, we knew there was a reason we had been warned not to do this. We realized we were closer to a small island than to home, so we pushed ahead and started rowing around this small tropical island looking for a place to pull up. We saw some men fishing, some mamas washing clothes, and kept going until we saw some huts and corn and manioc fields and banana trees.
Soon we had attracted a crowd of kids chasing us along the shores, shouting in Swahili. The crowd grew until three small children got into a dugout canoe and rowed over to us, using palm fronds as oars. So, we pulled up to shore and the kids suddenly looked a little nervous as they circled the boat. When we got out we realized we also felt a bit silly in our bathing suits without enough language skills to tell them why we were there. We all sort of stood there awkwardly, until Liz had the brainstorm of music and pulled out her tape player from her backpack. Soon, all of the children were dancing to the Grateful Dead, with far more rhythm than I’ll ever have! So we danced and laughed for awhile before realized we should get going to get back by dark.
So off we went, thinking we should continue around the island instead of backtrack. We underestimated its size, and soon realized it would be dark before long, and we’d be in trouble if another storm came up. Then we came upon a group of men having what looked like a cookout on the beach. They waved, and then three of them came out to us in their dugout. One of them spoke perfect French, and when we told them where we had to go he broke out laughing and clearly relaying this story to his friends. He said we’d never make it, and offered to tow us! We refused at first, but he insisted and tied a rope to our boat. And spent the next two hours towing us home!! Typical Zairean hospitality.
It turned out they were fishermen who live in Kadutu, but who fish from this island for days at a time to get fish to sell at the market. Turns out the island actually belonged to Rwanda. Anyway, the kitchen was closed when we got back, so we couldn’t get these guys anything to eat. All we could muster up were some cigarettes, which they appreciated as they set off for their return journey. [This episode reminded me of a much later trip, ten years later in Haiti, when as UN human rights observers we were getting transit for work to an island in the US Special Forces raft with Captain Doug Melvin.] The motor stopped in the middle of the channel and we were stuck and looking for a tow until we got the motor started again.
Motorcycle training is going well. There are some bikes I fit on pretty well, though I still wish I had a smaller one. Anyway, for some reason it is pretty easy for me the motorcycle trainer kept saying “have you done this before? No? How about a scooter? Horses?” He said I looked too comfortable on the bike to be a beginner, and moved me up to another group- we got to go out on the road during the next lesson.
Other activities of late have included presenting fish culture topics in French, complete with visual aids. My topic was “why raise tilapia nilotica” as opposed to catfish or carp. An easy topic for me, since I had covered the same material in English in training in South Carolina. A bit harder in French, but fun.
Last Saturday we had a fish fair Рwe split into groups of 4 or 5 and worked on projects like making rudimentary wheelbarrows, salting fish, making a balance scale out of sticks and a beer bottle, etc. My group had to cook Рso we made a great little oven and baked the fish in tomato sauce and beer and saut̩ed onions and garlic. We were skeptical but it turned out delicious and a welcome change from fish fried in palm oil- it hit the spot after everyone finished presenting their projects. The oven is a charcoal burner with a big pot. In the pot you put a layer of sand, with rocks or old tin cans on the sand. The cooking pan with food you want to bake sits on top of the cans or rocks, and the big pot is covered. The air circulates and forms indirect heat. Volunteers even cook bread and cookies in them!
The day before yesterday a bunch of us hired a guide to take us up Mt. Kahuzi, the highest mountain in the national park here. It’s just a bit lower than Mt. Triglav in Yugoslavia. What an experience! It was a beautiful climb but much different than I’ve ever seen. I suppose because the mountains are older and so much closer to the equator. Only a small part of the climb was the kind of rock scrambling and desperate search for toeholds. Instead it was a very steep but muddy climb through rainforests, incredible giant bamboo forests, along ridge plateaus, and through meadows dotted with neon pink and orange flowers. There was the oddest mix of vegetation all the way up: fern grottos, bamboo, low scrub, lush forest. When we got up into the clouds/ mists we could just make out outlines of gnarled, hanging moss covered “Dr Seuss trees”. Even the top was green with grass and low sagebrush-like scrub. It was a strenuous three and a half hour climb to the summit- but it was truly breathtaking and looked totally uncorrupted by civilization.
In a few days we take the Foreign Service exam to test our French. Four weeks is not a long time to learn a language, and I am glad I had a head start. Sunday we leave for a one week field trip (“sortie au village”) where we will stay with farmers and help them with their activities (pond construction, harvesting, etc). Should be exciting since we don’t speak Swahili – we’ll have to use sign language, so it will be good practice for the first few days at post. Then when we return we will start our regional language training, which means I will finally know which part of Zaire I will be spending the next two years in! The bad news is, Kivu is out, because the one spot here – allegedly the nicest post in Zaire – already got taken. So, now the assignments are really a grab bag. All traditional village posts except one possible placement at a fish station in Shaba. I won’t go into the region specific details until I know where I am going and can give you details in the next letter.
Not much else to report –
Love,
Carrie
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