Village Chief

January 3, 2008

The Sisters needed to talk to the village chief who sold them their 48 hectares at Menkao, so they invited me to come along. The delegation was Sr. Celestine, the Provincial Superior, Sr. Anita, the Superior of the Gombe house, Sr. Georgette, in charge of development projects, and Sr. Jacinthe, treasurer. Plus the driver, "Papa Nestor." He's been with them for many years, and he's the one who told them about the spring of pure, clear, POTABLE water that gushes out of the hillside a few kilometers from their land.

Our mission: to get the Chief to allow the sisters access to that water.

We covered the 100 km to Menkao in no time, because the Sisters have a 4-W drive (wing) mostly powered by angels (they say, the embassy driver was slow). We picked up one of the Chief's sons in one village, then drove some more, and picked up another son in another village. Then we angled off the paved road and after a few more bone-rattling, neck-cricking kilometers, we reached the End of the Road: the chief's house.

Houses. One for him, and one for each of his five wives.

Picture: the chief's children and grandchildren. Chief's house on the right. No running water or electricity. Drums and a half-length of bamboo collect water from the tin roof.

The chief wasn't there yet, so we waited and talked with the sons. One of them had an eye that closed all the time, and wore only one flip-flop, because his other foot was covered with sores. Diabetic? He was also wearing layers of clothes, a sweatshirt over a long sleeved shirt, and a cowboy hat. The other looked healthier and dressed more elegantly. At Georgette's question of how many villages he was chief of (each son managed part of the kingdom), he raised his eyes and counted out loud, "One, two, three...."... up to 43 houses. "About 300 families," he answered.

Finally, the chief arrived, walking up the path, and greeted us briefly without stopping or slowing down, heading straight for his house. He has twinkly eyes and smooth cheeks. We were allowed in the house. It was too dark to see at first, then we sat in the musty armchairs.

Since the conversation was in Lingala, I can only relate what Sr. Celestine whisper-interpreted to me. The only word of French the chief spoke was "reconnaissance" but I could tell it wasn't a feeling he himself was presently glowing with. No, according to Sr. Celestine, he was scolding the sisters, who "come and go like military, first I'm dealing with someone, then it's someone else," for their lack of gratitude. The previous sister, he assured them, came to see him all the time, and showed proper gratitued by bringing gifts. He had sold them good land. Why were they not grateful? And where were they when he was ill and needed to go to Kinshasa?

The conversation lasted well over an hour. Very formal, all deferring to the chief. The sons spoke, the sisters spoke. No one spoke when the chief was speaking, so he could go on and on for quite a while. No emotions on any of the faces, including the sons'. Only the chief, with his twinkly eyes. He smiled all the time, even when he was scolding. Why shouldn't he? He was so obviously in control here.

The chief's smile turned even brighter when they explained their project, which includes a school for the village children, a small pharmacy, agricultural projects. Development! His grandson had learned about it when he went away to go to school. His grandson is a schoolteacher now. Studied history.

Picture: Inside the chief's hut. Sr. Celestine and the chief's grandson and daughter (different wives). Note: it was much darker than the photo indicates.

Yes, development is good, but respect comes first. Gratitude. But the chief likes the sisters, and he knows the spring they are talking about. It is his own personal spring. He is a good chief to his people. He will let the sisters use this spring.

After the sisters had promised repeatedly to show plenty of gratitude (in cash), the meeting was over. I asked if I might take a few photos, and the chief said he must first change clothes. So we waited while he disappeared in the adjoining room, and reappeared with a robe, headdress and scepter. We went outside to take the photos.

Picture: the chief in front of his front door.

After the photo session, I took a few pictures of some of the wives and children. He only has 18 children.

In conclusion, on the way back (after we'd dropped the sons off in their respective villages), the sisters commented that not only we'd been spared the usual three hours of drumming and dancing in masks and feathers, we hadn't even been offered a glass of water! The chief must have been really mad at the sister's lack of gratitude. But in the end, he let them have the spring water, so it was a good day's work.

My own conclusion: no need to look any farther for an explanation of why "Africa" (gross generalization about to happen here!) hasn't made more progress. The village chiefs still "own" the land after selling it, and they'll skim any profit anyone makes right off the top. Where does the money go? Not for roads, wells, or electricity. Or schools. The money goes to More Wives for the Chief.

Sorry, not feeling very Politically Correct after this trip.