Feeding the Beast

No, this isn't another post about the Easterly-Sachs mudslinging. It's a post about chimpanzees! And it belongs on this blog because MDG number 7 is about environmental sustainability. And because I got to chat to a bunch of people who know tons about what the Congolese government is doing to protect the environment.

JACK gets a nomination for the coolest place in Lubumbashi. Only opened 2 years ago, they already have 25 chimpanzees rescued from traffickers, with a rehabilitation programme and the creation of a sanctuary underway.

Did you know that there are only about 200,000 chimpanzees left, and about 40% of them live in the DRC? And you can still find chimpanzee meat in the Lubumbashi market. The elicit trade in chimpanzees is so lucrative for some that the sanctuary was set on fire, killing two babies, in the early work of the project; in spite of a tough start, they're moving ahead with an impressive project. Kudos to these guys for the great work they're doing in difficult circumstances.

Poetic interlude

Kiwis inspire
Verse to explain global trade.
Why Portuguese tea?

A street by any other name

Usually I have trouble finding my way around a new city because, first, my sense of direction is crap, but also because I don't know the vocabulary used to describe the city. Various shops/ plazas/ trees/ soccer fields become landmarks, and my foreign description of street names rarely makes sense to taxi drivers. Not the case here. EVERYONE insists on giving directions according to the name of the street. I know the downtown area pretty well by now, and if someone were to say 'across the street from the vodacom shop,' or 'next to the bank', I'd know where to go. However, instead I'm told about the office that is 'at the corner of rue Kassaboubou and Kabangu'. First of all, street maps of Lubumbashi are hard to come by. Secondly, street signs themselves are scarce. What few there are have dark yellow stenciled letters on a bright blue background with a red border (pictured. Seriously. Can you read that??). I go everywhere on foot and they're hard to read! I wonder what the motorists do. Of course, maybe I'm just making excuses for my bad sense of direction....

Creative Methods

Not only does the strike continue, but the only person at the university seemingly able to provide me with an 'attestation de recherche' is travelling. Without it, there isn't a reception desk in the whole town I can get past. So, week three is well on its way without a single one of the planned interviews in sight. I'm sure it's a blessing in disguise, since I've now had the chance to get to know all 7 communes in the city, and kick back and drink a Fanta with a number of teachers, ministers, shopkeepers, bourgemestres, and others on the front lines of service delivery. In fact, the best 'interview' I could imagine was at a bar. I'm going to have to get creative with how to pitch this back in Joburg, since the kind of information I'm ending up with is at best a distant cousin of what's in the research plan.

The secret society of mayors

When I say I'm studying urban governance, it's automatically politicized. Expected conversations are about power, and politicians, and there is a great deal of suspicion about sharing information that could be sensitive. Everything is steered carefully away from touchier aspects of governance, like the way resources are distributed, and the way decisions are made. When I say I'm studying public services, I get some kind of wild-card exemption from politics that is apparently granted to the 'technical sectors.' The health, and water, and education budgets are laid out on the table, and before anyone blinks, we are well into open conversations about the way resources are distributed, and the way decisions are made....Even in academic literature, in writing about the administration of public services it seems like mentioning power (and people) are optional. Am I missing something? Is there some special thing people who govern urban spaces do that has nothing to do with resources? I'll start keeping an eye out for a secret handshake.