New baby Kate

The latest addition to our very large and expanding family: Baby Kate

A birthday party

We were invited to a birthday party in our neighborhood. It was quite a wild night. Most of the guests were very excited children and there were special treats like popcorn and juice to be had by all.

 

The birthday girl (wearing purple) who turned 10.

The cake, which may not look impressive but was actually quite a work of art. Our neighbor cooked it using a large pot, a metal cup, a cake pan and a charcoal camp style stove. I, for one, was impressed.

Hospital

Some photos from the hospital...Two sets of twins!

Random Congo Fun Fact of the Day

There are roughly 161 tribal languages in Congo

My mother-in-law

I am very thankful to have the in-laws that I do, and I'm especially thankful for my mother-in-law. She is a cheerful, kind and calm-spirited woman. Like my own mother, she raised a large and happy family. Unlike many Congolese women she had all of her 9 children with the same man.
I have the privilege of being married to her precious firstborn son, which is a privilege indeed. Still, she has never made me feel like I don't deserve him, or might somehow fail in the wife department.

Here in Africa, family pressures and expectations can run high and make many couples miserable, but I can happily say that my parents-in-law have never voiced doubts over my abilities to care for their son, or be a good wife to him. And when I say this I don't just mean no negative comments to me; they have never said anything about my shortcomings (of which there are many) to my husband either!

They don't tell me how to do things and they don't put the pressure on. We talk with them often but they ask little of us. This may sound like a given, but many a story from various cultures had led me to believe I might be in for a serious challenge in this area and I had a somewhat fearful anticipation of what my African parents might be like after our marriage.

I am thankful to recount that unlike many others, I am blessed when it comes to my mother in law.

friends and neighbors

Indian Style Flatbread

I decided to try something new so I looked up a recipe for Indian flatbread (the kind you can pan-fry rather than bake) and I found something that worked quite well. Below is the recipe:

1/2 cup warm water

1 tsp sugar

2 tsp yeast

3 1/2 cups flower (plus extra for rolling the dough)

2 tsp salt

1 cup plain yogurt (I did it with 3/4 cup because the first time the dough seemed too moist)

Directions:

Combine water, sugar and yeast and let sit for five minutes.

Combine flour and salt in a large bowl.

Add yeast mixture and yogurt to flour and mix well. 

Knead thoroughly for five-ten minutes (by hand or with bread machine).

The dough will be sticky, which is fine (it’s yogurt based so it tends to be this way). I like to add a little oil to make kneading it easier.

Brush dough with oil and let sit (covered) for an hour.

Divide up dough and roll into rounds/ovals about 1/4 inch thick. You can make the rounds the size you like - but I make them no wider than the small sized tortillas you can buy at the store. Fry (with little or no oil) on medium to high heat for 1 minute or less on each side.

Note: I don’t try to make them perfectly round (no need to get frustrated) and I put a little oil in the pan only for the first one but after that they fry easily with no extra greasing needed (esp if you have a non-stick frying pan) and they come out looking dry and baked (not greasy) which is a plus because it makes them more appetizing and similar to the oven-baked version.

A single recipe can make between 12-16 depending on how big you make them. They are good with just about anything. Orcxance likes to take them to work as a snack and even eats them with peanut butter!

“I don’t want to see restaurant food and I don’t want it to see me.”

Our free lunches are truly a blessing but as with most things they come with a price. Lunch at the hospital restaurant often feels like an interrogation. Some days I am happily ignored, but most days I am surrounded by people asking me questions and staring at me. 

This past Monday I went to lunch and we had to wait quite a while for the food. I usually start out sitting alone, but usually people come join me. While we sat at a table the women around me questioned me eagerly. 

“Where do you live?” 

“When did you come here?”

“Why don’t you live at the hospital?” 

“How do you pay for your house?” 

“Do you have kids?” “Why not?” 

“Why don’t you get pregnant?” 

“Is a baby just not coming?” 

“You should have a baby!” 

“Why don’t you braid your hair?”

“You should braid your hair.”

“Where did you meet your husband?” 

“Has he been to America?” 

“How long will you work at the hospital?” 

“Where are you going after this?” 

“When are you going back to America?”

“Are you from North America or South America?” 

“Does your husband speak English?” 

“How long have you been in Congo?” 

“Where were you before you came here?” 

And all this for one measly lunch. It just wasn’t worth it today. I vowed not to eat at the restaurant again the rest of the week, and Orcxance coached me on how to respond to the endless questioning. 

It is different being married, because everything I say reflects on my husband and us as a couple, so the challenge of communicating and responding to people is much more difficult than I found it to be as a single person.

Some of our conversations provide opportunities for good discussions, and sometimes for some assumptions and stereotypes to be corrected. But it is exhausting.

Next time I might just bring a tupperware and get my food to go.