A view of Lupita Island with the Congo in the distance, taken from Kipili. 

Mungu's pain (God's pain)

Dominic’s child died last night. Moses, the Workshop Foreman, radioed us early this morning to tell us the bad news. Dominic is one of our plaster fundis. In fact he is the best plasterer that we have found in and around the Kipili area. To know him is to love him.

He is softly spoken, a perfectionist with a fierce pride of his work. In short, he is a glimmering jewel among our shore of rough pebbles, and we are very grateful to have found him.

He is currently doing the touch-up work in the Manager’s House and last week he missed a day of work, which was most unusual. When I asked the others where he was, they told me that his child was sick. Yesterday, when Dominic arrived for work, I asked him how his child was. He smiled and said that “Mungu” had helped him because his child was a little better.

His child was only a few months old and had bad diarrhea and stomach cramps. Dominic said that the clinic in Kipili had given him some medicine and had put him onto a drip.

This morning when we heard the news, we were both overwhelmed by sadness. This is the 4^th child to have died in our little community since we arrived here 8 months ago. All the stories are as sad and moving as Dominic’s tale.

The first child was from Kalungu, a village on the other side of the Kipili bay. There is no clinic there and we were told that the child died from malaria. The wake went on all night and we could hear the drums and singing until 6 am.

The second child came from Manda Karenge, the island where Tom had planned to build an airstrip. We were still living on the mainland at that time and one night, just after sunset, a man came to ask Chris for his help. Chris had no idea who he was, but he said that he had helped to clear the land for the airstrip. There is no clinic on Manda Karenge either and he had brought his baby to the clinic in Kipili because she was very ill. The doctor said that she had very bad malaria and had given the poor little thing 3 drips of quinine. Now he wanted to take his wife and child back to Manda Karenge (about 5km away), but he was having problems with his boat’s engine and needed a spark plug. Sadly we did not have a spare one and suggested that he spend the night in Kipili and our big boat could tow his boat to Manda Karenge the following day. It would also mean that he would be close to the clinic in case his child became ill again during the night. He thanked Chris, but said that he would rather try to go back home and shortly afterwards we heard the awkward put-put of his engine returning to Manda Karenge. The next day we received a letter from him telling us that his child had died later that night and thanking us again for trying to help and his wife.

The third child was the child of Frank, also one of our employees. He was working on Lupita and his brother came to our office on the mainland to radio him and let him know that his son was very ill and that they wanted to take him to the hospital in Kirando. Kirando is on the mainland, about 40 minutes north of Kipili by boat or car. We gave Frank’s brother an advance on Frank’s salary so that they could go to Kirando. Frank did not come back to work for the rest of that week and it was only the following week when we learned his child had died in the hospital.

Four children in only eight months! I want to blame someone, but I just don’t know who to blame. I know that the clinic in Kipili has very little medication and that the doctor is probably not very qualified. Is that where I should lay my blame? Or are these children dying because their parents do not have enough money to pay for the medicine and the doctor’s consultation and so only go to the clinic as a very last resort? I felt so very sad for Dominic and his family and for the families if the other 3 children. On my run this morning up and down our hill I could hardly breathe for the lump in my throat. As I started to cry the heavens opened above me and it started to rain and rain and rain and I realized that Mungu was crying too.

Sunrise and sunset in our piece of Paradise

The sun rises over the escarpment behind Kipili. 

Chris and Dolf on Bartholomew's rock enjoying a sundowner

The sun sets behind Mvuna Island (Fisherman's Island) after another gorgeous day. 

Our Piece of Paradise

Three weeks ago Chris and I finally moved out of our tent and into the Manager’s House. There is still a lot of work to be done on the house but it was good to get out of the tent, especially with the impending short rains about to start.

Last Saturday the painters painted the inside of the main bedroom in the Manager’s House so we duly moved our bed and cupboards out onto the patio so that they could do this. The weather was really beautiful that night and we decided to leave our bed on the patio and enjoy the evening.

The rains over the Congo had cleared the air of all the dust and the purple, distant mountains could be seen as the sun set. There was no moon that night and the sky was ablaze with specks of brilliant light. We lay in bed and looked out at the beautiful stars and the lights of the fishermen on the lake and realized how fortunate we were. Where else in the world could we sleep on our patio with no locked doors, no nagging fear of burglars or wild animals and with not a single sound apart from the odd hoot from an owl or shriek from the pennant-winged nightjars? There are not even mosquitos on Lupita because it is too far for them to fly so there is no threat of malaria. This really is a truly unique island.