Congolese Happiness Quotient

My daughter Hilary recently asked me a question about people being happy here.  We have thought about this a lot and talked about it a lot and even chatted with others including locals about it.  Ro could probably comment more intellectually on the topic but the man is a maniac working on contracts, wells and latrines.  He has turned into a work-a-holic.   Again...the Church is darn lucky to have him.

I think the Congolese people in general know nothing more than survival.

Our dear Eloi (the friend with the garden and gives us produce.....no lettuce though).  As we trekked through the jungle together yesterday I talked to him about life as a young person in DRC. (he is 30 something)  He said, "my mother taught me that food is the most important thing to have, if you do not have food you cannot think, you cannot work, you cannot do anything".  These people spend 99.9% of their time trying to figure out how and what they are going to eat or feed their family next.  They have virtually no vision, no perspective on anything else in life.  If you were to ask a child or young person what they wanted to be when they grew up, they would mostly probably give you a blank look and wonder if they really would live long enough to grow up. 

We see a lot of very thin people but not starvation thin.  There are also a fair number of "traditionally" sized people especially women. 
 
However, even though I think most of the people really have very little hope for a life any differently than their parents and give little thought of what tomorrow will bring they seem relatively happy.  They have lovely lovely smiles and they respond instantaneously to a cheery "bonjour" or "mbote".  They don't have lost looks in their eyes.  The little children are beyond cute and have bright happy faces and eyes. 

As a result of not thinking ahead and what the future even tomorrow might bring, they are NOT careful about safety.  The trails in the villages are covered with stagnating mud, water, decaying garbage and broken glass.  All kinds of safety hazards.   When they refer to someone dying from something like malaria (we hear about it all the time)  it is almost like, "well there goes another one"....strange responses, even when it is their own child.   We learned yesterday of a man who was in a "taxi" (only you would really know what the taxi's are like), the door was open he was on the end seat, the driver made a fast turn the man flew out of the taxi landed on the street a truck ran over his head and decapitated him.   It took four days for his family to find his body then only because of a mark on his hand they knew about could they identify him because his head was totally mutilated. 
Even with such a gruesome end the family is sort of ...."well...that is how it goes"... (all the while I am throwing up in the bathroom and I didn't even know him). 

I am sure what seems like an extremely hard life to us is just second nature to them.  But it doesn't make it any easier to take.  However, I love it here.  I give my daughter Hilary and her friend Heba (who traveled across the African continent) all the credit for my love of this land and people.  Already I get teary eyed when I think I will have to leave and come back to "civilization".   

Comments?  Questions?  I love to talk about his place but again not sure my observations are very profound or clear.  The quest of a humanitarian is daunting EVERYONE NEEDS HELP.....but we pray every day to be lead to those the Lord wants us to help and they pop up in interesting places and we seem to instantly know this is the person or the place that we need to be helping at this moment.   Extremely gratifying are all those who jump in and want to serve.   I truly am in the presence of greatness constantly whether they be humble locals or expats with bucks.