The Arrival

You know you're in a tropical country when, just getting off the plane, you're hit by the heat. Welcome home, you could hear.

It took us so long to get out of the airport that my oldest son said: "Mama, Congo nein, casa" (translated: I don't want to go to Congo, I want to go back home). The reason it took a while was that a machine brake down twice while we were going through immigration. Instead of sending us to another booth, they made us wait -with a baby and a toddler. Not such a good idea. But nothing could take away our enthusiasm. We were just happy to have arrived.

I would say this is, along with the heat, the first similarity you’ll notice between Congo and Cuba: they both take their time and go slow -ve suave que te derrites (go slow, or you'll melt). This reflects the clear connection between the heat and the laid-back pace of life among these two countries.

At home, we were warmly welcomed. The first thing my husband's aunt told me was "how thin I looked, but that it was not longer going to be a problem. I had just arrived, and I was going to get proper food and rest", she said. Deal!, I replied.

Thirty minutes after we arrived, sitting at the dining table, a torrential downpour began. "Oh, that's a blessing, our son is back home!" We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful welcome.




 

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