Day 37 of 38. On the road again. About 30 hours from now I should be home if all goes well. Never assume that though. It's been a good trip--not without its stressful moments and I'm exhausted but we got almost everything done that we set out to do. This morning was the first day in about 35 days that I just lay about, appreciating the ability to lie horizontally: something I won't be able to do for the next 30 hours. 

Seems to me Burundians are pretty happy today. There is really not much point in me trying to explain here. All you have to do is check any news links at all on Burundi today, such as this one: http://www.hrw.org/news/2015/02/18/burundi-journalist-be-freed-bail

It is pretty much all anyone is talking about. My unsolicited and outsider commentary is that a victory has been won for democracy here. I think you can see it in people's faces.

Wait, was I just complaining about how juicy that mango was? Here I am enjoying this great breakfast of freshly brewed local coffee, crusty baguette, eggs, and an amazing, perfectly ripe mango, and I'm focused on the little bit of juice running down my fingers. Yeah, sometimes I catch myself being ridiculous. What I worry about is all the other times I don't notice myself being ridiculous. Absurdity, I suppose, is just part of the human condition. We try to cover, with nice clothes, polite language, decent haircuts...well, I cut my own hair, so I don't even have that. Which by the way did I mention I need a haircut? Yup, day 34 of 38 I definitely need a haircut. And it turns out I didn't count the extra day of flying to get home, which means trip is actually 39 days. I should have made it 40 days just to be in solidarity with Noah and company. I wonder if Noah thought to bring mango on that boat.

Day 30 of 38: So far everything is holding up. I actually have a surplus of clean socks. I just had to charge my e-reader yesterday for the first time. And my electric water flosser is still working on one battery charge (amazing--but I'm expecting it to give out any day). I've change hotels at least 7 times. I haven't seen a gorilla though. And most likely will not. Those are so far upstream that it may be a while before I even get to a location where I could see one. And, truth be told, I've only spent about a third of my time actually in Congo. The rest has been spent in Bujumbura (Burundi) working on analysis and planning stuff. So even those two thirds of the time, I've been thinking about Congo--pretty much completely immersed in it (or is that submerged?). When I get home I think I'll take a day off. And I need a haircut.

If you look very closely at the footpath in the middle of the photo, near the the ridgeline, you will see 4 or 5 farmers plodding their way up to the top. This is the daily routine if farming is your occupation here. Walk these trails, get to your field where you do the actual work you came to do, and if you harvest any firewood, or crops, carry those back on this same trail  In fact the farmers you see here are making their way home in the late afternoon. When they get home they will then have to cook dinner for their family. Exhausting. I just had a look at some research that showed that women in these communities work on average 15 hours per day. 

Congo reminds me of a river. Which is probably not the greatest metaphor since Congo is also actually a river. But I mean the country. Not that I am really in any way qualified to talk about what Congo is or isn't. Nevertheless, I know that rivers are never what they seem. There are currents and eddies, and it flows at different speeds, around rocks, at the edges, in the middle. If one navigates a river, one should be on constant watch, reading the currents, scanning for hidden rocks, maneuvering for the best, safest route. A river can be calm and beautiful, but just around the next turn it can be a raging torrent, terrifying and deadly. A river can pull you under and snatch your life in a second, or it can sustain you, quench your thirst, soothe your soul.

If you look at the bottom of this hill (mountain?) in the middle of the photo, you will see a line of trees, about 12 or 13 of them, all evenly spaced in a line. This is a native tree species known locally as kavungwe, a.k.a. Khaya anthotheca, a.k.a. African mahogany. What is exciting to me about this, is that first, farmers are cultivating this tree deliberately in their farm fields which means there is some potential for promoting more agroforestry in the area. Second, these trees were not planted. Kavungwe grows up naturally everywhere, and farmers choose to let it grow where they like. This is essentially a system that agricultural development practitioners have named FMNR (Farmer managed natural regeneration). One of the big advantages of FMNR is that it is considerably less costly and labour intensive than tree planting. So having the option of being able to promote FMNR, a system which some farmers here are already practicing traditionally, means there is the possibility of transforming a large area like this with little cost.

Please don't get the idea that I think this is a "problem-solved" scenario. There are plenty of challenges to confront before a hillside like this could change. But at least the seed of an idea is already there.