"This Place Called Congo"

This Place Called Congo

Lenore Murray

Congo. African nation, named for the river that runs through it, which is from a Bantu word meaning "mountains" (i.e., the river that flows from the mountains).

I received the gift of a small book from some dear friends as we prepared to visit them last year in Hawaii. I loved what it said about Hawaii and the spirit of Hawaiians. However, from the minute I read it, it made me think of the land of my youth, Congo. Every time I saw the tiny book on my bedside table, an inner voice kept reminding me to think of the uniqueness of Congo.

A providential blessing has enabled me to return to this magical land. Sitting here in Texas, almost ready to fly to Congo, I spied the little book again. It was too much of a coincidence. So I will try to share the feelings in my heart about the giant country that has remained a “secret garden” in my memories for over fifty years.

The morning here in Texas is coming alive with the coos of the dove, the caw of the blue jay and the sounds of a Texas mockingbird doing what he does best!  The neighbor’s cat has been by for his morning snack. The oranges and pinks of the morning sky are spreading over the lake as I reminisce. All seems to be at peace.

As I sit here thinking of this land still far away, I wonder why I feel so driven to write about  a country that I have not seen in over fifty years. I have not heard its magical sounds nor have I been able to smell its uniqueness. What is it about this country that calls me so? Somewhere deep and quiet inside of me is a love for a land that I want to share.

“Be still and know….” I want others to know from my heart to their minds this special place that is the soul of my youth.

The Palm trees move as the spirit of the land.

The magical music of the wind sings each new day

The seasons of dryness and rain mark the land and the people

There is a soul here

This place called Congo.

Joseph Conrad called it “The Heart of Darkness”

“Going up that river was like travelling back to the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted on the earth and the big trees were kings. An empty stream, a great silence, an impenetrable forest. The air was warm, thick, heavy, sluggish. There was no joy in the brilliance of sunshine. The long stretches of the waterway ran on, deserted, into the gloom of overshadowed distances. On silvery sandbanks hippos and alligators sunned themselves side by side. The broadening waters flowed through a mob of wooded islands; you lost your way on that river as you would in a desert….”

This place called Congo

Congo is like the scent of a rose

A scent one never forgets

The people are like a gentle rain

Their happiness fills your soul

This place called Congo.

When one thinks about the Congo

The goodness of long ago fills you

It flows through you like a river

Quenching your memory’s thirst

This place called Congo.

Congo is not just an idea

If one has lived there

It is in your bones and your heart

It is a cord that binds.

This place called Congo.

Congo can be found in silence alone

It can be found in a bright smile given to others

A thank you or a nod of the head

A spirit

This place called Congo.

For those of us blessed to have called Congo home

It lives in our hearts

It has given us courage, wisdom and love

It can give us peace- if we will take it

Memories of the land can brighten your world

This place called Congo