Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Changes!
Photokapi has moved to:
http://photokapi.tumblr.com
For a while now Blogger has been bothering me. Like any pre-defined blogging site it's limited, and I've seen this page setup used about 10,000 times. My main issue with it is that the photos I post come up teensy eensy on the page, as if they're an afterthought. Plus with Congolese internet routed through Nigeria it takes me about 5 minutes to load one photo, during which time our unstable connection fluctuates and I lose everything.
So, I've moved the whole site over to Tumblr. Tumblr is also aggravatingly optionless in the details of its page setup but they have masses of pages to choose from, and my photos look HAWT. Large and vibrant and with a sexy black border. I couldn't resist. The upload rate is fast, the archive system is awesome, and Tumblr feels like the hipster of the blogging world--we all pretend we hate it but really all want to be it. My only enormous complaint is that I can't find a way to set up a comments section at the end of each post. I've pasted the links to comments on old blog posts but from now on there is no way to comment on anything I write. This almost broke the deal for me, as I believe the internet should be about dialogue and I love hearing people's reactions to my photos and writing. If anyone has any CSS code I can type in to my page setup to bring up a comment section I'd much appreciate it. In the meantime I've put my email address on the left-hand side of the new blog if anyone has questions or comments. I'm supposed to be teaching myself web design (I bought a Dreamweaver book and everything! ...and then forgot to pack it), but until then this is what I have to work with.
Part of the decision to move the site was because I am not leaving the Congo in three days. My job in the USA has been hit hard by the economy and they are unsure they can keep me on, so for financial, artistic and adventurous reasons, I have decided to stay here until the beginning of June. The economy is keeping me up at night--I hear stories of friends with college degrees, really talented incredible people, spending weeks or months searching for jobs, and as a fine art photography major with no mainstream marketable skills I'm terrified. When I first moved to Berkeley last July (before the economy slid downhill) it took me 8 weeks to find a job, and I have a good resume. I spent two year's worth of savings when I put down a deposit to rent a room, and I was borrowing money from my parents and applying to sleazy jobs as a bar waitress in pool bars (and I hate pool), or trying to convince potential employers that my goal in life was to sell organic baby clothing. The exhaustive blow to my finances and my ego are still fresh with me and I can't imagine going through that again. So I'm going to stay here until June and save a little money, then fly back to Berkeley for 3 weeks. In July I'm flying to upstate New York for a month to teach photography with my friend AJ, at a summer school for highly motivated high school artists. In the meantime, President Obama, I'd like you to put more funding towards the Arts so that come late July I'll be able to get a job to feed myself, and my cat, and be able to afford darkroom fees so that I can print my Graduate School admissions portfolio.
All of this stress around staying, going, jobs, options, responsibilities, my cat, my boyfriend, my photography, being seriously ill, and What I Want have been absorbing 90% of my mental energy lately, and I've felt this blog weaken. With the decision to stay in the Congo I've realized that I want to keep this blog going, in whatever way I can. So, from now on I will try my hardest to post AT LEAST a daily photo on the new site, if not a description or story. Hopefully I won't lose anyone on the way, though so far I only have evidence of Meghan, Colleen, Dan, Uncle Chris, AJ, Jess, my Maman, and Colette reading this blog so I could be overreacting. If there's anyone else out there, please change your RSS feeds and bookmarks to http://photokapi.tumblr.com.
See you on Tumblr! I have a new shiny colorful post waiting...
http://photokapi.tumblr.com
For a while now Blogger has been bothering me. Like any pre-defined blogging site it's limited, and I've seen this page setup used about 10,000 times. My main issue with it is that the photos I post come up teensy eensy on the page, as if they're an afterthought. Plus with Congolese internet routed through Nigeria it takes me about 5 minutes to load one photo, during which time our unstable connection fluctuates and I lose everything.
So, I've moved the whole site over to Tumblr. Tumblr is also aggravatingly optionless in the details of its page setup but they have masses of pages to choose from, and my photos look HAWT. Large and vibrant and with a sexy black border. I couldn't resist. The upload rate is fast, the archive system is awesome, and Tumblr feels like the hipster of the blogging world--we all pretend we hate it but really all want to be it. My only enormous complaint is that I can't find a way to set up a comments section at the end of each post. I've pasted the links to comments on old blog posts but from now on there is no way to comment on anything I write. This almost broke the deal for me, as I believe the internet should be about dialogue and I love hearing people's reactions to my photos and writing. If anyone has any CSS code I can type in to my page setup to bring up a comment section I'd much appreciate it. In the meantime I've put my email address on the left-hand side of the new blog if anyone has questions or comments. I'm supposed to be teaching myself web design (I bought a Dreamweaver book and everything! ...and then forgot to pack it), but until then this is what I have to work with.
Part of the decision to move the site was because I am not leaving the Congo in three days. My job in the USA has been hit hard by the economy and they are unsure they can keep me on, so for financial, artistic and adventurous reasons, I have decided to stay here until the beginning of June. The economy is keeping me up at night--I hear stories of friends with college degrees, really talented incredible people, spending weeks or months searching for jobs, and as a fine art photography major with no mainstream marketable skills I'm terrified. When I first moved to Berkeley last July (before the economy slid downhill) it took me 8 weeks to find a job, and I have a good resume. I spent two year's worth of savings when I put down a deposit to rent a room, and I was borrowing money from my parents and applying to sleazy jobs as a bar waitress in pool bars (and I hate pool), or trying to convince potential employers that my goal in life was to sell organic baby clothing. The exhaustive blow to my finances and my ego are still fresh with me and I can't imagine going through that again. So I'm going to stay here until June and save a little money, then fly back to Berkeley for 3 weeks. In July I'm flying to upstate New York for a month to teach photography with my friend AJ, at a summer school for highly motivated high school artists. In the meantime, President Obama, I'd like you to put more funding towards the Arts so that come late July I'll be able to get a job to feed myself, and my cat, and be able to afford darkroom fees so that I can print my Graduate School admissions portfolio.
All of this stress around staying, going, jobs, options, responsibilities, my cat, my boyfriend, my photography, being seriously ill, and What I Want have been absorbing 90% of my mental energy lately, and I've felt this blog weaken. With the decision to stay in the Congo I've realized that I want to keep this blog going, in whatever way I can. So, from now on I will try my hardest to post AT LEAST a daily photo on the new site, if not a description or story. Hopefully I won't lose anyone on the way, though so far I only have evidence of Meghan, Colleen, Dan, Uncle Chris, AJ, Jess, my Maman, and Colette reading this blog so I could be overreacting. If there's anyone else out there, please change your RSS feeds and bookmarks to http://photokapi.tumblr.com.
See you on Tumblr! I have a new shiny colorful post waiting...
Monday, April 20, 2009
A Few Reminders That I Live in Kinshasa:
When selecting vegetables in the supermarket today there was a power outage. Have you ever been in a pitch black crowded supermarket? I froze for the 60 seconds it took for the generator to start up and got a giddy feeling, like those fantasies I had as a kid of being locked in the Breyer Horse store overnight. When I left the store my hands were coated in earthy soil from picking up the unwashed potatoes.
The old woman trying to sell me plantains in the parking lot had one of the most beautiful wrinkled faces I've ever seen. I can't get her out of my head.
The BEEEEP CLICKCLICKCLICK BEEEEEPs of our UPS surge protectors regularly flicking on and off during a power fluctuation don't bother me anymore.
The war going on in my stomach between amoebas and antibiotics can only be compared to Goma (too soon?).
I sleep better under mosquito netting than without.
Five oranges were 12,000 Congolese francs. 890 francs to $1 (today), you do the math, and don't forget to look at the black market exchange rate written on the chalk boards on the side of the road if you're going shopping.
Never take any US dollar bills that have the tiniest nick or fold in them. They have to be PERFECT or no one will accept them. PRISTINE. No more shoving them in pockets, only gently curve them into wallets. Congolese francs however, can be taped together and worn to pieces and see through and look as if they've been through a french press. Refer to exchange rate above. A 500 franc bill is less than a dollar.
Running two forms of currency when one is grossly inflated means that no one will ever get exact change.
People will walk in front of our car. As we're going 35 mph. Pedestrians are completely fearless.
I heard a noise like a big cat rustling in the tree above our wall and it was just a lizard. An orange and blue foot long lizard larger than our kitten, doing push ups.
It's easier to drive 4 miles out of your way to avoid a traffic jam than spend 4 hours in it.
"Making" water is fun! Fill the kettle with tap water, boil it (at least once) to kill the parasites, pour it into the top of a huge water filter, let it sink down through clay tubes into a bottom chamber, fill up a jug with the trickle from the chamber's tap, put it in the freezer to cool, transfer it to the fridge to keep cold, pour it into a cup, and drink. Only three hours start to finish! Easy.
The old woman trying to sell me plantains in the parking lot had one of the most beautiful wrinkled faces I've ever seen. I can't get her out of my head.
The BEEEEP CLICKCLICKCLICK BEEEEEPs of our UPS surge protectors regularly flicking on and off during a power fluctuation don't bother me anymore.
The war going on in my stomach between amoebas and antibiotics can only be compared to Goma (too soon?).
I sleep better under mosquito netting than without.
Five oranges were 12,000 Congolese francs. 890 francs to $1 (today), you do the math, and don't forget to look at the black market exchange rate written on the chalk boards on the side of the road if you're going shopping.
Never take any US dollar bills that have the tiniest nick or fold in them. They have to be PERFECT or no one will accept them. PRISTINE. No more shoving them in pockets, only gently curve them into wallets. Congolese francs however, can be taped together and worn to pieces and see through and look as if they've been through a french press. Refer to exchange rate above. A 500 franc bill is less than a dollar.
Running two forms of currency when one is grossly inflated means that no one will ever get exact change.
People will walk in front of our car. As we're going 35 mph. Pedestrians are completely fearless.
I heard a noise like a big cat rustling in the tree above our wall and it was just a lizard. An orange and blue foot long lizard larger than our kitten, doing push ups.
It's easier to drive 4 miles out of your way to avoid a traffic jam than spend 4 hours in it.
"Making" water is fun! Fill the kettle with tap water, boil it (at least once) to kill the parasites, pour it into the top of a huge water filter, let it sink down through clay tubes into a bottom chamber, fill up a jug with the trickle from the chamber's tap, put it in the freezer to cool, transfer it to the fridge to keep cold, pour it into a cup, and drink. Only three hours start to finish! Easy.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Hospitals and Parasites
I have been incredibly ill for the past four days. Parasites and infections and abdominal pain and absolute hell. Without grossing you out with too much detail, imagine the worst diarrhea you've ever had, combined with complete constipation. And then add on a bunch of other unpleasant symptoms, and imagine being in so much pain that the only way to go to bed was to take sleeping pills. AGONY, I CAN TELL YOU. So on Ultra Bad Day #1 I went to a doctor and got some medicine for amoeba parasites and some painkillers and hoped I'd be okay.
However, the following night I thought I was dying, lying in the bathtub until 3am crying because it was the only thing that made me feel about 1% better. When morning rolled around I was frantically emailing my friend Danica who's an expert on infectious diseases and is currently working with the Gates Foundation in Vietnam, trying to figure out if what I had was actually deadly. Luckily it was decided by people here that I should go to the hospital, but I could barely walk through the house to the car, with two friends / translators for the day helping me. The first hospital we arrived at refused to treat me. There were no signs anywhere and I was having trouble walking, but we went up and down stairs and elevators and tried three different offices and kept being turned away, even as I was sobbing in the waiting rooms.
Finally we gave up (turns out that section was a private "members only" sort of place) and drove across Gombe district to another hospital. The drive was agonizing; I was huddled in the backseat of the car riding through the dusty dirt roads of Kinshasa, wincing every time we hit a pothole (every ten feet), with ice packs around my neck, hoping the roulages (traffic police) wouldn't blockade our car and demand money.
In this hospital they were more helpful. They admitted me (yay!), took lots of tests, hooked me up to an IV, and argued incessantly with Perry and Becky, who I'd arrived with. I think on the nurses' parts there was a little bit of offense taken by the two white girls telling them how to do their job, but from my vulnerable perspective, it was needed as they were going to perform the most ridiculous unnecessary procedures on me. Finally Perry had a strong talking to with the nice smiley young doctor, and he asked the nurses to perform a procedure (which I will not talk about) that made me feel 10,000 times better. I only hope that the very sick baby and also the snoring, ranting feverish woman who were in the same room as me are feeling better too. The best part of the day was having a giggle attack at the mosquito netting above my bed, from all the pain medication they gave me, but the lowest point was when Becky was in the middle of translating the procedure that was about to happen to me, and the nurse slammed the door in her face and then approached me with a foot long tube and a bunch of needles. HORROR. Especially when the world was a little drugged and loopy.
All in all we spent a solid 4 hours in the hospital (one of which was just for paying, as a nurse disappeared with our $10 change). I left feeling a lot better, and with yet more antibiotics. I have ten days of internal hell ahead of me...but hopefully in the end I will win, and the enemies devouring my insides will lose. I have no idea how I got so sick, as there are about ten thousand potential possibilities that for the past four days have been floating through my head, and I'm still not ready to google amoebas. But now that I've experienced parasites and third world hospitals I can cross them off my list and never ever have to deal with them again. I hope.
However, the following night I thought I was dying, lying in the bathtub until 3am crying because it was the only thing that made me feel about 1% better. When morning rolled around I was frantically emailing my friend Danica who's an expert on infectious diseases and is currently working with the Gates Foundation in Vietnam, trying to figure out if what I had was actually deadly. Luckily it was decided by people here that I should go to the hospital, but I could barely walk through the house to the car, with two friends / translators for the day helping me. The first hospital we arrived at refused to treat me. There were no signs anywhere and I was having trouble walking, but we went up and down stairs and elevators and tried three different offices and kept being turned away, even as I was sobbing in the waiting rooms.
Finally we gave up (turns out that section was a private "members only" sort of place) and drove across Gombe district to another hospital. The drive was agonizing; I was huddled in the backseat of the car riding through the dusty dirt roads of Kinshasa, wincing every time we hit a pothole (every ten feet), with ice packs around my neck, hoping the roulages (traffic police) wouldn't blockade our car and demand money.
In this hospital they were more helpful. They admitted me (yay!), took lots of tests, hooked me up to an IV, and argued incessantly with Perry and Becky, who I'd arrived with. I think on the nurses' parts there was a little bit of offense taken by the two white girls telling them how to do their job, but from my vulnerable perspective, it was needed as they were going to perform the most ridiculous unnecessary procedures on me. Finally Perry had a strong talking to with the nice smiley young doctor, and he asked the nurses to perform a procedure (which I will not talk about) that made me feel 10,000 times better. I only hope that the very sick baby and also the snoring, ranting feverish woman who were in the same room as me are feeling better too. The best part of the day was having a giggle attack at the mosquito netting above my bed, from all the pain medication they gave me, but the lowest point was when Becky was in the middle of translating the procedure that was about to happen to me, and the nurse slammed the door in her face and then approached me with a foot long tube and a bunch of needles. HORROR. Especially when the world was a little drugged and loopy.
All in all we spent a solid 4 hours in the hospital (one of which was just for paying, as a nurse disappeared with our $10 change). I left feeling a lot better, and with yet more antibiotics. I have ten days of internal hell ahead of me...but hopefully in the end I will win, and the enemies devouring my insides will lose. I have no idea how I got so sick, as there are about ten thousand potential possibilities that for the past four days have been floating through my head, and I'm still not ready to google amoebas. But now that I've experienced parasites and third world hospitals I can cross them off my list and never ever have to deal with them again. I hope.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Weeping Walls
Last night it rained again. Which means the wall above our bed started flooding. We were out at a friend's house for dinner when the storm hit, and I don't think it is scientifically possible for rain to fall faster or harder from the sky than it did last night. I'm in love and humbled by thunderstorms here, yet they cause an enormous amount of death and destruction in Kinshasa every time they hit. Including, on a very tiny scale, our bedroom.
There were little rivers running steadily downwards, and bubbly pockets of water under the paint.
The walls were so saturated that they flooded the floors, and we filled half a bucket with rainwater from wrung out towels.
Last night we fell asleep to the steady drip, drip, dripdripdrip of water falling from our walls into plastic tubs. When I got up this morning and stepped on one of the towels we left out overnight there was a lovely squelching sound. Our room smells like stagnant rainwater.
There were little rivers running steadily downwards, and bubbly pockets of water under the paint.
The walls were so saturated that they flooded the floors, and we filled half a bucket with rainwater from wrung out towels.
Last night we fell asleep to the steady drip, drip, dripdripdrip of water falling from our walls into plastic tubs. When I got up this morning and stepped on one of the towels we left out overnight there was a lovely squelching sound. Our room smells like stagnant rainwater.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Thank you, Jesus.
Happy Easter!
I was invited out to dinner and ate like a queen. Five courses: first a vichysoisse soup with gorgonzola, followed by lamb with mint sauce, yorkshire puddings, french fries in an anchovy cream sauce, mini mushrooms, and sugar snap peas. Next was a green salad with a truffle vinaigrette, followed by a cheese plate with chevre fromage and camembert, as well as fresh baguette, pistachios and grapes, Finally, lamb shaped cakes and chocolate covered strawberries. I HAVE NOTHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT, and I aspire to one day cook a meal that fabulous. Now that is quite enough blog posting about food. I'm done making your mouth water.
Jama got tuna. Because I ran out of dry cat food. And he's cute.
I was invited out to dinner and ate like a queen. Five courses: first a vichysoisse soup with gorgonzola, followed by lamb with mint sauce, yorkshire puddings, french fries in an anchovy cream sauce, mini mushrooms, and sugar snap peas. Next was a green salad with a truffle vinaigrette, followed by a cheese plate with chevre fromage and camembert, as well as fresh baguette, pistachios and grapes, Finally, lamb shaped cakes and chocolate covered strawberries. I HAVE NOTHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT, and I aspire to one day cook a meal that fabulous. Now that is quite enough blog posting about food. I'm done making your mouth water.
Jama got tuna. Because I ran out of dry cat food. And he's cute.
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