The Ministry of Foreign Affairs has made a rough statistic that China ranks 7th in the world in terms of the number of project investments in Africa. over the years, professionals from different industries and positions have set off from China and set foot on the vast African land.
Chen Gong is one of them, he is a senior maintenance technician of the company.
At a dinner party, someone asked Chen Gong: “What is the most memorable thing in Africa?”
Chen put down his glass and told everyone this story full of longing and reminiscence.
The article is dictated by Mr. Chen.
1
In the middle of 2014, our new batch of senior maintenance technician training had just finished, and the long-negotiated equipment export order from our colleagues in the sales department was successfully signed, with the destination being Congo (Gold).
At that time, I had graduated 5 years ago, and my parents were still farming in my hometown in western Hunan. I had a girlfriend of 3 years, and only when I was talking about marriage did I realize that my savings were far from enough for the car, house and bride price required by the other party.
According to the requirements of the purchaser, the company needs to assign two maintenance technicians to go with the equipment to provide maintenance services for a period of three years. At that time, the current situation in the DRC was still a bit chaotic and belonged to the “first level of danger” area, and the company offered a generous allowance for the assignment. Rough calculations, if you can persist for two or three years, not to mention the car, house can be solved, but also save a considerable bride price.
After discussing with my parents and girlfriend, I decided to apply for the job.
When I arrived in the DRC, I was stationed in Kinshasa for two months, and the company’s equipment was shipped to Bunia with the progress of the project, and I followed it.
Bunia is in the northeast of the DRC, at the border of Uganda, Rwanda and Sudan. Although there are UN peacekeeping troops from Bangladesh, there are often rebels roaming in the mountainous region and there is constant strife. My flight from Kinshasa to Bunia often stopped at the military airport, where the runway was still unhardened yellow, and every landing and takeoff was a yellow dusty and frightening experience.
Dusty runway at Bunia Airport (photo by the author) Dusty runway at Bunia Airport (photo by the author)
Upon arrival in Bunia, I realized I was the only Chinese person in the area. I was assigned a pickup truck with no license plate and no visible brand, and if there was any problem with the mechanical equipment, the locals would immediately notify me and I would drive to the project site for “diagnosis”.
My colleagues warned me not to go out without a local for fear of robbery or other dangers. Personally, I felt fine, the people in Bunia are more simple than in Kinshasa, and with a standard “yellow” face, I was generally not treated badly.
As time went by, I also made a few local friends, the one I had the deepest relationship with was Bruno, a logistics driver for our project, responsible for transportation and procurement of supplies.
I also understand that, as a rare local foreigner, I can neither be a true brother with the local black people nor have any compatriots I can talk to, there is no internet, no radio or TV that I can understand.
There are no restaurants or supermarkets here, and the small stores are full of local “souvenirs”, which does not arouse my desire to shop. During the day, except for not getting sick (one is the limited medicine that can be brought from home, and the other is that it is hard to trust local doctors and medicine), life is not a big problem. The company regularly mails the supplies needed for daily life, such as shampoo, shower gel, face oil, and even Lao Gan Ma, from Kinshasa; in terms of clothing, the uniforms and uniforms issued by the company are enough, and shoes are sandals and sneakers, how comfortable they are, after all, the locals are not at all particular, it is good to cover the body.
As Hunan people, the only thing that takes time to adapt is the food. The company includes three meals, but the chef is a native black man, not to mention the delicate Chinese buns, small dishes, even the most basic stir-fry is not.
Most of the food that the locals eat is boiled or fried potatoes and meat, and rice and noodles are also available, but most of them are made extremely difficult to eat. The bread is too hard and dry, and the rice is always overcooked. A curry with ready-made curry ingredients to cook a curry rice, even in the local food is a premium.
Bruno found a second-hand rice cooker for me, so I started to say goodbye to the African meal, and finally I could cook a small pot of rice or soup and congee once in a while, and then use wild chili peppers from the mountains to make an African version of chili stir-fry similar to the taste of Hunan cuisine, which solved the big problem of food.
My black friends who work and live with me, I don’t know where they heard that “Chinese people eat everything”, they often bring me the bats, turtles and other game they caught and ask me if I want to eat them, which makes me very embarrassed.
Of course, if there were rabbits, pheasants and other relatively normal game, I would usually give them a dozen RMB as a reward, and then give myself an African barbecue, which is considered a sacrifice.
Almost half a year after arriving in Bunia, I was already very tired of such a life.
I was tired of listening to the dozens of songs in the MP3, and when I didn’t work, I was lonely, but still lonely.
Some people also advised me to get a dog and so on, but I think it is always to go, it has been unable to raise the heart. At that time, I really had the idea of backing out, but the company raised the expatriate allowance another notch and said they hoped I could continue to persevere and stay in Bunia. I didn’t say anything else.
The day I met Ping, I was lying on the roof of my bungalow watching the sunset when Bruno excitedly found me and gestured in English with sign language, “Chen, come down, there’s a present.”
Ping Chai’s first day of adoption (Photo by the author)Ping Chai’s first day of adoption (Photo by the author)
I thought to myself that I had caught some game again, and when I got to the yard, the local workers were laughing around an orangutan, which looked only two or three months old, less than half a meter tall and very weak, lying motionless on a fallen tree trunk in the yard. The round black eyes were wide open as he surveyed the crowd around him.
An English-speaking worker came forward and explained that this was a pygmy gorilla, said to be no more than 5,000 worldwide, overgrown, and that its parents had both died in the jungle under the cold gun of the rebels.
“Want to eat? I’ll sell it to you cheap.” The worker who picked it up said to me with a gesture.
I hurriedly waved my hand.
The worker sighed and grabbed it by the ankles and carried it upside down, heading for the next woods. I asked Bruno, “Is he going to release it?”
Bruno smiled, showing a mouthful of crooked white teeth: “No, he’s going to throw it away, this ape will not find its own food, after being thrown away, it will soon die.”
I didn’t know why I felt compassion at the time, but I felt that its eyes were spiritual, so I reached out and stopped the worker who was carrying it.
In the end, I bought it for 300 RMB and named it Pingzi, with the hope that I would return home safely.
2
Ping was so weak at first that he could only eat batter with a spoon.
I first took him to the local vaccination station and asked a local colleague from Kinshasa to buy milk powder, bottles, diapers, small cookies and other baby products. I was teased by the locals for a long time for spending so much money on the orangutan. Later, I met the local vet and was able to determine the age of the orangutan, which was really only three months old.
Ping-chan eating a small cookie (Photo by the author)
At that time, there wasn’t much equipment maintenance work, so I had plenty of time to take care of Ping Chai and feed him like a human baby. After two months, Ping Chai’s body got better and his active nature came out. At that time, we bought some chicken and ducklings from time to time and raised them for a few months before eating them. He was initially very scared of the chickens and ducks we bought, but gradually he dared to tug on their feathers, and eventually he even ran around the yard chasing them.
I could feel that Ping was growing up day by day, not only with more and more energy, but also with more and more intelligence.
He knew his name was “Ping” and would come and sit in front of me as soon as I called him, no matter where he was playing in the yard. He is also a little greedy, and loves a varied diet, not just bananas as people think. For him, the more kinds of food, the better. In addition to not eating meat, all kinds of vegetables and fruits, snacks, cookies, and even beer and cola it likes very much. And also will be pampered, hands clasped fist up and down, and even hug our legs to ask for food.
Gradually, Ping also learned to distinguish between “people who like” and “haters”, especially like women hugging it and stroking its little head, but never pay attention to the worker who had to throw it away. He even “fakes it” – if I’m around, he’ll make a move to hit the person making faces at him, and if I’m not around, he’ll climb up to the roof and wait for me to come home.
Another thing is that Ping likes to be “clean” very much.
I do not know who learned from, it will regularly bath, wash the face, and always do a good job, and even stole Bruno’s small towel, as their own “bath towel”, so Bruno cried and laughed.
Before the local toilet is like the “dry toilet” in the countryside, a deep pit two wooden boards, not only more mosquitoes, but also stink. After I arrived, the clever black administrative manager used the excuse that I couldn’t adapt to it and reported to the headquarter, so he transferred two movable rooms from some old Chinese construction sites as temporary toilets, which solved the big problem that I would rather go to the open air to “release” than to the dry toilet.
After being reprimanded a few times for using the toilet inside the house, Ping soon understood that he could only urinate and defecate outside the house, and later even learned to use the flush toilet in the temporary toilet, just like me.
There is no entertainment at night here, and every day, Ping will drag the clean towel or clothes I prepare for him and go back to bed on time. One night, I noticed that Ping had not returned to the house on time as usual, and thought he was still outside playing, but after calling his name a few times, he never responded. Finally found it in the backyard in the corner of the miscellaneous pile. It turned out that he was tired of playing and was sleeping heavily holding a plantain he found somewhere, and snoring with a huff and a puff, which made people laugh and cry.
3
When Ping was one and a half years old, he started to go out with me on missions. He was most curious about my big toolbox. Wrenches, pliers, and a light-up stylus all became his toys.
Every time I drove from downtown Bunia to the project site, Ping was my companion on the road to relieve my boredom. At first he liked to sit quietly at my feet and observe when I was repairing machinery, but later he watched more and more and even learned to hand me tools. But Ping couldn’t figure out which tool I needed to use at which point, so he often held the ones I used most often with his two little paws, eyes full of anticipation, waiting for me to grab the right one in his eyes.
I love Ping’s “cleverness”, and if he hands me exactly the wrench or pliers I need, I reward him with a small cookie, at which point his gorilla nature comes out and he starts dancing and chattering to express his happiness.
The fact that Ping and I were able to “work together” at work made the local workers stop treating him like a primitive animal.
Previously, Ping was greedy and used to steal food or drinks from the workers, and occasionally he would play pranks by jumping down from high places to scare people. So I would buy some beer and cola and give them to the workers, in their eyes, these are “high class drinks”, the local poor people will never spend money to buy, and I even very much hope that they can accept these small favors from me, so that when I am busy, not to embarrass the naughty and mischievous Ping.
Pingzi on his lunch break with the workers (photo by the author) Pingzi on his lunch break with the workers (photo by the author)
Gradually, we all got used to the existence of Ping, workers on their lunch break, will take the initiative to wave at Ping and smile to show goodwill, I nodded in response, Ping will immediately and the workers mingle, and even pillow their arms to take a nap at ease. Some of the workers would intentionally leave some Coke in the bottle for Pinky, waiting for him to finish it and then make a funny burp to make everyone laugh.
The time in Bunia was hard, lonely, slow and long, yet uninhibited and full of unknown.
The time with Ping was like a son, a companion and a helper, making a difference in an otherwise long expatriate life. Before that, I never thought that one day I would have such a love affair with some animal, attached, fascinated and unwilling to let go.
We expatriate engineers have a full month of family leave back home every year, and on the days I was away, I asked Bruno to take care of him. After I returned home, I realized that I always missed Pinkie, but I couldn’t video him, so I could only text Bruno to ask him how he was doing.
Basically, Bruno’s response was, “He’s fine, just not eating much, not very happy, like he wants you to come back soon.”
In addition to long vacations, there were times when I had to fly back to Kinshasa to buy some spare parts or to report to the supervisor of the inspection and needed to be separated from Pinky for a few days. At first, Ping was deeply afraid of my departure and would visibly look “downcast” and secretly take out my luggage.
Later, after a few short separations, Pinkie understood that I would be back, and stopped making trouble. Every time I left, he would sit on the roof and silently watch me leave, and every time I came back, he would happily jump on me and rub my cheek with the top of his head, which I knew was his way of saying, “Welcome home,” in the manner of an orangutan.
Ping also makes mistakes, such as accidentally breaking my book, or chewing my cable, when he notices my displeased look, probably from the TV learned the posture of admitting mistakes, he will also take the initiative to kneel down, raise his hands, and look at me with wide, innocent eyes.
Pingzi with his hands up in surrender after making a mistake (Photo by the author) Pingzi with his hands up in surrender after making a mistake (Photo by the author)
Whenever this happens, I completely forget to blame him for the matter. In the eyes of the Chinese, there is gold under the knees of a man, so I stubbornly believe that kneeling is a humiliating action for an orangutan, and after hastening to tell Ping to stop doing this posture, Ping understood, and came to hug my leg to pout after making a mistake, and never knelt down again.
From then on, I realized that from the beginning I had not treated Ping as an animal, but as a human being.
From food and clothing to work and entertainment, we spent time together, and the workers laughed and said that Ping was “Chen’s” son, and Ping did not let me down.
One day, we drove to the project site, the road was slippery, the car broke down and hit a roadside tree trunk, the front end of the broken pickup truck was immediately dented, stuck in the trunk, and the driver’s door was seriously deformed.
Ping was very responsive and slid out of the window like lightning, and was not injured. But my left foot was stuck between the gas pedal and the brake, and I couldn’t get out, and my cell phone had no signal.
Ping was so anxious that he jumped around and scratched his ears beside me. I took out my phone and pointed to the photo with Bruno and the other workers, then pointed to the way we came and made a “bye” motion.
Ping seems to instantly understand that I want it to go back to the people, it immediately jumped to the side of the tree trunk, ready to go back to the site. But still three steps back to look at me, until the distance between each other between the trees is getting farther and farther away, no longer see each other.
The time I waited in the car, I felt extremely tormented, calculations, almost a dozen kilometers away from the site, I do not know whether Ping can safely find the site, it is almost never alone in the forest through, any other species of attack, it is a deadly threat. Even if I went back, would I be able to use its language to convince the workers to come out and find me?
Unexpectedly, after only half an hour, Bruno and the other workers found me successfully on their motorcycles, led by Ping.
Afterwards, he told me that Ping was particularly clever, as he drew a circle on the ground to compare with my face, and also drew my glasses, because I was the only one who would bring glasses during maintenance on the site. Ping even took one of my buttons and handed it to Bruno. The button was specific to the Chinese company’s uniform and had Chinese characters, so Bruno understood right away that Ping was taking him to me.
After this happened, my gratitude and love for Ping grew like crazy.
But I also realized that this was the third year of my posting and the return date was coming up.
4
During the past two years or so with Ping, I have envisioned many endings for him, such as leaving him with Bruno, or training him to return to nature, or taking him back to China. But when it came time to make a decision, I realized that I had already made up my mind that I had to find a way to bring him back to China.
This was a very difficult task.
First of all, even if Ping was fully vaccinated and had no diseases, there were a series of formalities to take him out of customs, and I even wrote a description of the situation, prepared three versions in English and French, asked the company leader to sign and seal it, and then took it to the notary. Later, the person in charge of customs told me that even if I could leave the country, it would be a problem whether I could enter China when I arrived.
Moreover, the result of my girlfriend’s inquiry for me in China was also that it could not be allowed to enter the country.
I visited the Chinese embassy there, and the embassy staff kindly advised me not to waste my efforts. Even if the embassy issued a letter and let him in, the national animal protection agency would not let me raise him privately. Even if the embassy issued a letter to let him in, the national animal protection agency would not let me keep him privately. Ping’s ultimate fate must be to be sent to a zoo, unable to continue to live a free life.
I remembered what Bruno had told me, that in Africa, animals are raised in confinement and are an extremely poor thing in the eyes of all. They are born with free souls, even if they die in the wild at a young age, it is their destiny to do so, and as long as they die free, then their souls will soon come again.
The local workers in Bunia also advised me that they had never heard of a precedent where someone was able to bring a live animal back to China.
After a few internal struggles, I had to leave Ping behind at the site and ask the workers to take care of him.
As my real return day finally approached, Ping became more sensitive.
He saw that I had packed almost everything this time, including things I didn’t usually bring on business trips, and probably realized that I was going far away this time.
He started to make trouble again, taking out the packed things and hiding them under the bed or in other corners. I had to clean up gently while he was asleep and lock up the box. But Pinkie is very smart, it sees the box can not open, it will try to carry the box to measure the weight, found that they can not lift, they know that I am “packing” inside, I still have to go.
On the day I left, I prepared a few months’ worth of cookies and snacks and coke for Ping, and told Bruno to take him to get his vaccinations on time and to spend more time with him, and Bruno nodded and agreed.
I gave the supplies I didn’t need to bring back to China to the local workers – pots and pans for the small stove, leftover dried rice, spices, some old shoes, clothes, cool oil, medicine and so on.
I left Bruno the most commonly worn work uniform, which had more or less my scent on it, and I hoped that Pinkie would get along with his new owner.
I remember that day, it was a sunny day in Bunia, and when I was about to get into the car, Pinky used his best strength to hug my leg and refused to let go, so I was ruthless and said goodbye to him. As Bruno peeled it off of me, Pinkie let out a heartbreaking scream and his big black eyes kept tearing up.
Finally, the car drifted away from the camp where I had lived for several years, and the dust that flew up drowned out the images in the rearview mirror, and all I remember is that Ping’s cries only slowly became less, and eventually all that remained in my ears was the sound of the wheels rolling.
This scene, after I landed in China, appeared in my dreams from time to time.
5
After returning to China, I took out a loan to buy a house, paid in full for a car, and proposed to my girlfriend as planned, and proposed to my family. The busy life slightly cured some of my hang-ups about Ping.
I soon moved into my new home, just standing in the balcony, I vaguely remember that I had the intention to leave a cabin in my new home, to Ping Chai.
In the third month after returning home, Bruno sent me the news of Ping’s death.
Since we parted, Ping did not eat much, often sitting alone on the roof, and later even walked dozens of kilometers alone to the project site to look for me. On the way back to the site, he was probably attacked by other similar species and was injured.
Bruno called a veterinarian, but eventually Ping died in depression. Bruno told me that before he died, Flatboy hugged the old work shirt that I had worn and refused to let go of it.
I often think back to these years in Bunia, one person, one gorilla, or having fun, or the moments when he was sleeping on my arm, remembering his playful, sad, clueless little expressions, and being incredibly nostalgic and painful.
Soon, my girlfriend and I got married, a “normal man” should have the day, but I no longer dare to go to the zoo, not willing to return to Africa, not willing to watch, read movies and books about people and animals, and even not willing to drink the brand of beer that Pinkie likes.
Because whenever I unintentionally experience such a moment, I can’t stop weeping like a child.
I often wonder why people and animals can build such a deep bond, probably because they can always do things that other humans can’t give to each other.
For example, it never blames me, never doubts me, but always believes and always follows.
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