How a bar and church keep the congolese united

Imagine how difficult it would be to be suddenly swept into a different culture. To leave everything you ever knew behind. To learn a new language, new customs, new rules. This is the reality of the Congolese Community in Uganda. In the 90s, Congolese music ruled the airwaves in Uganda. With the escalations of the wars in the Democratic Republic of Uganda, many came to live in Uganda. Most of those that live in Mbuya actually made news as the ‘fresh’ wives of the Ugandan soldiers that had gone to fight in the Kisangani war.

However, that is not all to the Congolese community in Uganda, there is much more to them than just being refugees; there is life, there is fun. Many are involved in tailoring, hair-dressing and hawking as the major income-generating activities. Some however, are very successful business entrepreneurs.

Quartier Matonge— The Social Hub of Congolese
My adventure to discover the community saw me begin off with the famous Congolese bar in Kansanga along Ggaba Road. Quartier Matonge opened its doors in 2009 and was started by Bahati Kayumbu, the president of the Congolese Community in Uganda.
On my first Saturday at the place, I was required to part with Shs5000 entrance fee for the live band performance that takes place every weekend.

It was packed that night with Congolese. Most if not all of the waiters are also of Congolese origin and are more proficient in Swahili, Lingala and French.

A white couple makes an entrance to the venue and takes its seat. The female one keeps nodding categorically to show her enjoyment of the live Lingala music.
The performers are energetic, full of life and keep dancing the ‘kwassa kwassa’ dance. On my table, I am seated with a lady, Yvonne Dakimani who says she is a regular at the place.

Sombe, fufu and Primus beer
Dakimani goes ahead to order for nyama choma and ugali/fufu. Fufu is the lingala term for cassava flour. When her order arrives after a 30-minute wait, the nyama choma looks spicy while the fufu is rolled like golf-balls and attached to each other in a long-column that is covered with a kavera.

Nsamba warns me not to try out the fufu saying it won’t be that tasty for a first timer. I thus settle for the sombe or mpondu which consists of mashed and cooked cassava leaves. It goes for Shs3000 and is served with grilled fish or nyama choma. My taste buds assimilate it to the ‘goobe’ the Ugandan vegetable synonmous with northern Uganda.

When I ask Nsamba to estimate the population of the Congolese in Uganda, he jokes that they may be even half of the population. “They are everywhere, in Bunga, Katwe, Makindye and Kisenyi,” he says.
In fact, Dakimani confirms that there are many Congolese bars. “There is one in Makindye, one in Bunga and a hotel of sorts at Cooper Complex,” she says. After struggling with my skewed spoken French, I call it quits at Quartier Matonge and plan a comeback for another Saturday. I get back to Quartier Matonge ready to interact with the live band and the patrons at the bar. When I arrive, the band is still fine-tuning the instruments.

One of the men, a light-skinned member goes to the bar to pick up a Primus beer. One of the waiters says Primus is the national beer of DRC and it goes for Shs10,000 at the bar.
It comes in a 750ml bottle with a clear medium yellow colour with a large, frothy and good lacing. Being the teetotaler, I did not taste, I asked the waiter to help me with an almost empty bottle.

Language barrier
I try to interact with the band, but none of them can understand a word. Even the interpreter of sorts, another waiter, keeps getting confused as I try to explain myself.

But it’s not only the band members, the other patrons I tried to speak to were only conversant in Swahili and French. For one of the patrons, I had to scribble down some French sentences to keep the conversation flowing, but it was all a struggle.

Like the name, Quartier Matonge, I discovered the joint to be home of sorts. ‘Quartier’ signifies a neighbourhood or a suburb of sorts in French while Matonge, might as well signify a well-knit Congolese family, with Congolese food and Congolese music.

Service At the Congolese Church
Sunday Morning finds me tracing my way to one of the Congolese Churches in Uganda. After walking past Mengo Hospital as one heads to Sanyu Babies Home, I finally reach the Congolese Church, All-Saved Church of Christ.

The music is moving and the voices of the choir are impressive. To get inside this L-Shaped Church, one goes through an alley of stairs. The roof is made of a combination of iron sheets, papyrus and tarpaulin. Wooden poles support the structure while bamboo shoots are nailed on the sides to act as walls.

One of the pastors is preaching vibrantly in Swahili as a Luganda interpreter tries to pace up with him. He preaches about foolishness and gives examples of ladies who misuse their chances of marriage.
The little girl dozing off by my shoulder as she momentarily flutes the mucus from her nose makes me lose my concentration. Most of the women in the church are dressed in the traditional kitenge wear. At the end of the service I interact with one of the elders, Steven Mawejje, a Ugandan.

Mawejje tells me that the senior Pastor at the church is Pr Pierre Wete. “The church began off two years back, but it’s not the only Congolese church in Uganda, there are many others in Katwe.” Mawejje who is the chairman in charge of administration at the church describes Congolese as very good people who show love for each other.
“Congolese like to be in the presence of God, they spend most of their time at the church. They also enjoy visiting each other, an act they call ‘upendo’ where they combine and pay a visit to one of the families.”

Becoming Congolese
At the end of my travails, I am now aware that next time I plan on interacting with the Congolese; I must up my French and Swahili oral skills. For once, I felt imprisoned in a small box of language barrier. But I have a better understanding of the Congolese community in Uganda.

I can proudly say, I have become one with the Congolese Community in Uganda (at least I can now dance some kwassa Kwassa while listening to Papa Wemba or Kofi Olomidde.

A hopeless life in Gulu
As I set off to Kayagoga in Bardege division, Gulu municipality where many Congolese, mostly women live, I come across a very light skinned woman who seemed to have bleached and I mistook her for a Congolese, only to be told that she is a Muganda, as I fidgeted with different languages to introduce myself.

She directed me to another lady who was passing by. I introduced myself to her in Kiswahili, which is the language spoken by the Congolese here.

She welcomed me happily and took me to her rented one-roomed house. Betty Sara Mukang, 32 years, used to live in Kisangani, Democratic Republic of Congo. She came to Uganda in 2001 with her husband Rashid Basile, a UPDF soldier who unfortunately died of bullet wounds in Central African Republic in 2009 as they pursued the LRA. The couple has three children.

Barely making ends meet
During the interview, the boy was still sleeping on a mattress on the floor and the girls were out fetching water. When I inquired why the children aren’t at school, she said she was not able to afford school fees, feeding the children and rent as most of the house hold belongings had been sold off to pay rent of Shs20,000.

‘‘I have no job, no husband to support me, I only run to the church for handouts and sometimes beg from friends who can help out with little amounts ranging from Shs5,000 to Shs10,000, but it’s so hard as you can’t beg forever,” she says.

On the life most of them lead in Gulu, Mukangi reveals that Life is hard and most families struggle to survive. Many share single rooms with their growing children and barely find rent or money to feed them. Most find solace in the church.

“Ever since I got born again I often go to church for prayers and previous habits like prostitution have been abandoned. Here in Uganda, we only speak our language, but never practice our culture. We teach our children the word of God. Worshiping and praising is done every evening,” she says. Hers is a community she believes is alienated from the rest of the Congolese as most celebrations are conducted in Kampala.

Her friend Jean Nuru, joins in our conversation, revealing that the church has been her source of finance since her separation from her husband. The 36- year-old has two children. The two women are involved in church ministry at Gulu Bible Community and don’t have any economic activity at the moment.
Finding solace in church
The church, the women say, has helped salvage their image as prostitutes and man snatchers. Most of them became born again in 2007 at a crusade. Under Pastor Evelyn Lagum, it uses Kiswahili thus it is a focal point for them. It involves them in projects such as bead making, designing t-shirts, baking bread and making clothes to prevent them from returning to prostitution. According to Elizabeth Biyona, the Chairperson of the Congolese community in Gulu, it is hard to estimate the number of Congolese in the region as many are mobile, however, they could be about 1,000.
With an appalling life, women like Mukangi and Nuru pray each day that the government comes to their rescue.

‘‘We don’t have information about UPE and can’t afford the Shs15,000 school fees payment. Regarding other government programmes like NAADS and Nusaf, we are normally segregated and promised hot air by politicians,” says Mukangi, adding that they need to be given capital and taught skills in managing business so that they can be able to look after the children, pay rent, buy food and welfare improvement as their conditions are deploring.

‘‘We never came on our own as refugees, but with government forces. Instead we have been abandoned like rugs and if our children become thieves it’s the fault of the government for its failure to support us,’’ Mukangi says,
Nonetheless, going back to DRC is not an option they would consider.

Making a living in Uganda

Unlike most of his countrymen, Pascal Mihigo did not run away from the war, he simply came to Uganda to look for work in 2004. “The language was never easy but in about three months, I had adjusted since we are all Bantu speaking,” the tailor explains. But life was never easy and has not been easy. “There is some discrimination in some places, when people see a foreigner they think he has come to grab their opportunities,” he laments. When he came to Uganda, he settled in Kansanga.

For his first days, he had to bear with the food. “Ugandan food is not easy, Ugandans prepare with less fat, they use less oil, it’s like their food is simply boiled,” Mihigo explains. But comparing Congo to Uganda, Uganda was a better bargain back then. “My country had war, one needs to work in a secure place.” However, Mihigo now complains of the increasing prices of commodities yet he cannot increase his charges as a tailor. For a Kitenge, he charges between Shs50,000 to Shs80,000.

He believed Ugandans warm up to every community with strings attached. “As long as Ugandans are gaining from you, you will be their friend. But with no gains, they cannot give you their friendship,” says Mihigo. His two children are Ugandans by birth since they were born in Uganda, though his wife is also Congolese.