Congo, Part One

When I read this portion of The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, my whole perspective on Africa changed. In this portion of the book, Leah, an American woman who has fallen in love with a Congolese man, relates the story he tells her frequently about the history of his people:

Usually we start with five hundred years ago, when the Portuguese came poking the nose of their little wooden ship into the mouth of the Congo River. Anatole peers from side to side, pantomiming Portuguese astonishment.

“What did they see?” I always ask, though I already know. They saw Africans. Men and women black as night, strolling in bright sunlight along the riverbanks. But not naked—just the opposite! They had hats, soft boots, and more layers of exotic skirts and tunics than would seem bearable in the climate. This is the truth. I’ve seen the drawings published by those first adventurers after they hurried back home to Europe. They reported that the Africans lived like kings, even wearing fabrics of royalty: velvet, damask, and brocade. Their report was only off by a hair; the Kongo people made remarkable textiles by beating the fibrous bark of certain trees, or weaving thread from the raffia palm. From mahogany and ebony they made sculpture and furnished their homes. They smelted and forged iron ore into weapons, plowshares, flutes, and delicate jewelry. The Portuguese marveled at how efficiently the Kingdom of Kongo collected taxes and assembled its court and ministries. There was no written language, but an oral tradition so ardent that when the Catholic fathers fixed letters to the words of Kikongo, its poetry and stories poured into print with the force of a flood. The priests were dismayed to learn the Kongo already had their own Bible. They’d known it by heart for hundreds of years.

I found this quite shocking. I had some strong images of Africa: distended bellies, sad hungry faces, and the occasional destitute village with brightly colored clothing and very little other worldy posessions. I had never been presented with an image of an Africa this... well, rich.

But here's the kicker:

Impressed as they were with the Kingdom of Kongo, the Europeans were dismayed to find no commodity agriculture here. All food was consumed very near to where it was grown. And so no cities, no giant plantations, and no roads necessary for transporting produce from the one to the other. The kingdom was held together by thousands of miles of footpaths crossing the forest, with suspension bridges of woven vines swinging quietly over the rivers. I picture it as Anatole describes it: men and women in tiers of velvet skirts, walking noiselessly on a forest path.

The Europeans were dismayed. Dismayed. At this scene that to me looks so rich and life affirming. Dismayed because there was "no commodity agriculture," in other words, dismayed because the Africans didn't look or live enough like them. And thus began the incredible process of Europeans pillaging the continent of its rich natural resources (including humans in the slave trade) and attempting to Westernize it in the name of "progress."

Part Two coming soon.

Cartograms

What is this funny looking map of the world? It's a cartogram depicting the proportional Gross National Products of countries by enlarging or shrinking them in relation to each other.

I discovered these fantastic maps while googling information about tonight's election. The first site I found showed US map cartograms attempting to give a more accurate portrayal of the Dem/GOP distribution in the 2004 elections.

Also linked from that page was this page of world map cartograms on which is included the image above as well as several others, including population, energy consumption, and people living with HIV/AIDS.

Enough

I love this quote by Patricia Kornfeld in Cultivating Wholeness

An idea that often stirs anxiety in a counselor is: “I’m not enough to do this. My supervisor, Bill, my therapist, Susan, my friend, John, could do this better. They’d know what to do.” The belief—and fear—of “not being enough” can plague even the most experienced therapist. The great therapist and theoretician Dr. Carl Rogers regularly worked to change a thought pattern that triggered his anxiety. It is said that even in his later years, Dr. Rogers would center himself before beginning a master class, and would remind himself: “I am enough.” He just had to be himself.

When we think that some wiser counselor should be in the counseling room because “I am not enough,” we disconnect from ourselves. We focus on the “expert” who is not in the room. We leave ourselves and in leaving, create anxiety. We abandon ourselves. If we were to breathe and use Dr. Rogers’ mantra: “I am enough,” we would return to ourselves and find the truth. If we are truly ourselves, we have enough.

After reading this a few weeks ago, this has become my mantra. I always kind of thought the idea of "affirmations" was kind of lame. I mean really, it just seemed silly to me to think some cheezy "optimistic" thought all the time. It conjured images of "self help" gurus with shiny white teeth shouting at an audience of business-suit clad women and men, "you are WORTH IT!"

But when I read this quote from Kornfeld, something clicked in my heart. I realized how detrimental "negative self-talk" can be--it prevents us from living our life fully, from being the people we were created to be. "Negative self-talk" is, in itself, one of those "cheezy buzzwords" but I think it is a valid description of what many of us do. How many of us have tapes playing in our mind all the time? I'll tell you what some of mine say. I'll say something that I regret, and I think, "I never say the right thing!" I'll bump into a table and think, "geez, I'm a klutz!" A professor will ask a question I don't know the answer to and I'll think, "boy, I'm an idiot!" That stuff is powerful. If you're always telling yourself negative crap like that, you're going to start believing it. I did, at least.

So now every time I notice myself saying something negative in my mind, I counteract it by thinking "I am enough." It's making a difference, for me anyway. So, my dear readers, I offer this up simply for your consideration; do with it what you will.

fall

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(e e cummings)