Arriving in Africa

Arrived in Bujumbura, Burundi late last night. The DRC can be a challenge to fly in and out of, so this trip begins by road from Burundi via Rwanda, and we will cross the border into the DRC some hours from now.  Although our ride from the airport last night was brief, a taste for the potholes was served. It reminded me of the old gravel country roads in Indiana where I grew up. Full of bumps and deep potholes and plenty of curves. I'm not one for dramamine but I am happy to have it handy today.

When we disembarked last night, walking down the stairway rolled over to our plane, you step out and smell Africa.  It is always the same.  Campfire, cooking fires, land being set afire to clear the growth and prepare the ground for the next crop.  It isn't the scent of a wood burning fire that we would have at a campground.  It is the smell of burning anything and everything, even things that we shouldn't burn.  

The night sky here is also like that all over central Africa.  There is very little light pollution, and star gazing is on steroids.  I look forward to nighttime again with great anticipation.

We gathered around the pool last night at the Hotel Club du Lac Tanganyika.  Here is an odd coincidence:  if you google nyt travel from the January 2011 Travel section you will see this VERY remote hotel listed as one of their top 10 favorite hotels ever visited by a New York Times travel writer.  The spot is quite breathtaking on the shores of Lake Tanganyika.  Eve greeted us at the airport along with her director of the City of Joy Project, Christine.  There are nearly 100 of us here.  We have traveled from all over the world to be here with Eve, to celebrate the women of the DRC who for decades have been invisible.  We don't know what the trip or day will bring.  We are in a part of the world where to exist with peace we must surrender expectation.

Over the next few days I will try to share with you some of the stories of the people who have come.  I am standing in the shadows of some of the most incredible women’s rights and human rights activist alive today.  Rada from Croatia, who first took Eve to Kosovo nearly 20 years ago.  Rada, who opened the first shelter in Bosnia for the masses of women being raped there.  Rada, who hosted the first production ever in 1997 of the Vagina Monologues that played first in Zagreb.  Rada, who is the woman behind the very emotional monologue “my vagina is my village” from the Vagina Monologues. 

Our caravan is about to leave.

I told Eve last night that she should be so proud – to throw a party in a faraway place and, mind you, one not easy to get to – and look at the crowd of friends.  The only thing I know for sure is that today we will all be emotional creatures.