When I complain about the traffic and congestion in Kinshasa’s streets … I think of those who walk miles each day to carry water and other items essential for life.

When I fret about the rising price of food and fuel … I think of those who can afford to buy neither.

When I complain about the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes … I remember that I have a house with screens and cool running water, and that I lay down each night on clean sheets, not on mats or the floor like many in my town.

When I wonder how I will pay for my children’s college education in today’s economy … I think of those parents who must decide which of their five children they can afford to send to grade school.

When I look at the taxes we are compelled to pay … I remember I have an income and am paid for my labors.

When I sigh as our children depart home one-by-one to attend college so far away … I remember that we have outlived none of our children, in stark contrast to mothers and fathers we encounter each day.

When I grumble about the smell, pollution, and garbage in the street … I remember in my country, I generate fifty times more refuse than the average person in Africa, and in America a truck comes to our house once a week to haul it away.

When I show disdain for a system of justice that tramples the rights of the widow and orphan … I remember the times I passed them on the street and didn’t extend my hand.

When I contrast the dress, language, or habits of other cultures to my own … I remember on a global scale, I am the oddity.

When I scorn the ethics of government officials who insist on bribes or under-the-table fees … I remember they too have families and are rarely paid.

When I bemoan the fact that it can take weeks to find a replacement part for my computer or a part for my car … I realize that such everyday things are beyond the grasp of millions.

When I shake my head when the electricity flickers off in the middle of the night … I think of a rural clinic with a single solar light where over 80 children gather each night to study and read.

When I worry about the relative danger in our midst … I remember that I had a choice to come and have the everyday option to leave.  

When I pray that the perpetrators of violent crime will be brought to a speedy and harsh justice, I remember that at the end of my day … It is not justice that I will seek, but mercy and grace.

With challenged hearts from Africa,

Ann and Bill Clemmer

Kinshasa, Dem Rep of Congo

clemmer@congokin.org