Twice a Refugee
Belgium Congo
The Greek presence in the Congo reached a peak in the 1950s coming from around the world. The Greek communities organized their own schools and churches and Greeks were active in trade, fishing, transport, coffee, merchants and so did my parents, grandparents, uncle and my aunt moved to the Belgium Congo from Cyprus.
My father was 17 years old when he moved to the Belgium Congo.
Chapter 1
My fears and my love for Africa
The destination was Kongolo a town in Tanganyika Province, a small town with endless forest of natural beauty located on the west bank of the Lualaba River, the largest headstream of the Congo River. The Lualaba River is 1,800 Kilometers long ( 1,100 Miles). we could not swim in the river because my parents new crocodiles were the most striking species in the waters and dangerous in the Congo.
My oldest sister was born in Cyprus, my brother Christos, my sister Olga and I we were born in the Belgium Congo.
Trees surrounded our home with beautiful flowers like orange and purple bougainvillea, banana and mango trees with a small creek behind the house. We had chickens, a Peacock, a Chimpanzee that always came to us when we drove into the jungle, a German shepherd, and an African Grey parrot.
Every family had a helper for different chores, ironing, cleaning and cooking also a nanny for the children.
Chapter 2
My parents were very aware of mosquitoes, which infected humans with malaria and yellow fever so they always made sure we were vaccinated.
We all learned to speak French, and the native language Swahili and of course Greek our native language.
We all shared a community, a swimming pool, movie theater, tennis court or a volleyball court. We follow different events around the world and created our own community event like the Hula Hoop.
Most of the families came from France, Belgium, Portugal, Italy, Greece and Cyprus and we all kept our nationality. My best friend was from Portugal.
At a community pool
My mom sisters and brother outside our house
Chapter 2
My older sister Anna was sent to a catholic boarding school in Kindu at the age 5 years old, can you imagine 5 years old! Then it was my brother and my other sister because at that time Kongolo did not have an elementary school. I remember when my sisters and brother left for the boarding school I lay in bed crying every night missing them.
The trip to the boarding school was scary and I admire my older sister for doing it . My father drove to the Lualuba river with her, a Congolese was waiting for them. Anna with her little suitcase went to the other side of the river with a small wooden barge. A car was waiting for her and also picked up other kids on the way to the boarding school.
My sister Olga and I with my cousins in Kongolo
My sister told me that sometimes she will fly alone in a smaller plane with live chickens.
Chapter 3
The Mosquitoes
In the summer of 1958 laying on my bed under a mosquito net protecting my sisters, brother and I from the mosquito bites from getting Malaria with 4 oil cans of Texaco to each bedpost filled with Manioc flour and water protecting us from the Siafu ants or African ants. We also use the large Texaco cans for our pottery plants in front of our house. The black or red ants will devour everything in their path.
My Aunt next to the Texaco can
Because of Mosquitoes and the ants and to protect us from any infections, when we took a bath my mom always added Dettol in the bath tub. Dettol is an antiseptic and disinfectant which is used for skin disinfection. Was it safe!
Chapter 4
My dad always kept us close together no matter what, no matter what we did for fun or going to school. I remember my older sisters wanted to see a movie but I could not go because it was not PG13 so they pretended that they were tired and went to bed and so did I. The moment I fell asleep, they got up and went to the movie theater and left me sleeping in my bed thinking I was not alone.
During the raining season, we had terrible storms of rain and wind roar and howl of anger. I remember laying in bed and listening to the storm but yet I was never afraid.
Chapter 5
The village of the round and square houses
My mom with the African Dancers
Sometimes at night, we will hear the sound of the drums coming from the village of the round and square houses. “Get up dears” mother’s voice called, “we are going to the village and watch the Congolese Dance”. We all got into the car and followed the sounds of the drums towards the village just to watch the African Tribals Dance.
As we got closer and closer, the drums got louder and louder, my heart started to beat harder and harder and I started getting scared.
Dance in the Congo is part of everyday’s life, it’s about expressing their emotions through rhythmic movement, it energizes and re-fresh your body and spirit.
The dancers wore mask and paint their faces and body, dressed in multicolored African fabrics and colorful beads. The most popular is the Bembe Cote bead, a deep maroon color.
My parents loved to watch them dance in the village. You experience their culture, their traditions, and lifestyle. It’s like going to the movies but you are in the movie!
Being the youngest, I was afraid to watch them dance with their traditional lifestyles, animal skin clothing, handheld shakers, rattlers around their ankles or waist, colored they face and body so I decided to stay in the car where I felt safe not my sisters, they were not afraid.
One night, when I stayed in the car waiting for my parents, a little African girl with a beautiful smile came near the car and started to talk to me in Swahili, a native language spoken in the Congo she held her hand out and invited me to watch them dance with her.
This little girl age 6 taught me to overcome my fears and decided to follow her towards the direction where the music was coming from and from that day on, I followed my family to watch the tribal dance in the round and square houses. This little girl from the village taught me to trust myself and not to be afraid of new opportunities coming my way.
Chapter 6
The Lualuba River
Often in the afternoon, around 4 pm, when the heaviest heat had passed, our parents would pack up a picnic and head over to the Lualuba River. The parents spread blankets on the ground while we played but kept us close together.
I am the 4th one from the back sitting down.
I remembe a story about a seven-year-old Greek boy who was splashing water near the river, a crocodile grabbed him and pulled him in the deep water, drowned and killed. Several parents run to save the boy but it was too late. The little boy was found floating down the stream dead.
From that day on, I learned to be well aware of my surroundings plus the river is the gateway for different types of snakes. We always had a trained Congolese watching over us.
My sister and cousin Lualuba river
Chapter 7
The Jungle in Kongolo
In the afternoons, my parents will drive us to the jungle to feed the chimpanzees. For us it was like going to the zoo but the animals were free. He would stop on the side of the dirt road and the chimpanzees as curious as we were, they came near us.
For protection my dad always brought a gun with him. We have to remember, it is the African jungle.
My oldest sister with our chimpanzee Zoe
We fell in love with a chimpanzees named Zoe and bonded with him. He became our pet but was still free to live in the jungle. Whenever we went for a drive in the jungle, we would called him and he always came to us. In his final days, He would make the noisiest sound, he wanted to see us one more time before he dies.
Chapter 8
Hosted a dinner party
Many African people do not eat snake meat; but some do. In the Congo River region, Boa snakes are sometimes smoked so their meat can be saved for later. Smoked Boa snake with Piri-Piri sauce is one way to prepare the smoked snake. Piri-piri sauce, pronounced “pee-ree-pee-ree” is made with a dozen chili peppers, sweet green pepper, clove garlic, onion, tomato paste, vinegar, sugar, and salt.
One evening, my parents hosted a dinner party. My sister asks my dad if she can go to the bathroom, which was located on the second floor. After an hour went by, my dad ask my older sister to check on her. When my sister open the door, she saw our other sister Olga, sitting on the toilet seat sleeping and above the toilet was a small open window with a boa snake curled up sleeping, too! With not a sound she turned around quietly closed the door behind her and called our dad explaining what she saw in the bathroom.
My dad and a Congolese friend went upstairs running and slowly open the bathroom door grabbed my sister away from the snake and killed it. The Boa constrictor had found a place to sleep but he could had strangled my sister. After this incidence we never left a window open. My sister was fine, she was just tired playing outside all day in the hot and humid summer days.
Chapter 9
African Grey Parrot
We had an African Grey Parrot pet named Coco. He lived in a large cage in the front of the house. The African Grey Parrot mimics human voices with an amazing vocabularies of up to 1,000 words or more.
One day, I was playing in front of the house and I hear two calls “Nikki come here” that’s my fathers voice so I went looking for him and ask him if he had called me. He said “no, I never called you” so I go back playing. I hear the voice again and I go back checking with my dad. “No, not me” he said. Finally, we realized it was our African Grey Parrot mimicking my fathers voice. Who had the last laugh, of course Coco the parrot.
Our parrot spoke French and Swahili the native language.
Chapter 10
My German Shepherd
For protection, we had a German Shepherd name Rita. Rita was my best friend. One day, I decided to test her with two African women with their children tied in the back walking by my dads retail store. His store was so close from our house.
The Congolese women wore Kuba cloth. This fabric was handwoven using the strands from raffia palm leaves. The raffia strands are dyed in several earth tones using vegetables dyes and each cloth is a unique creation. The men are responsible for the raffia palm cultivation and the weaving of raffia cloth while women are responsible for embroidering and connecting pieces to create the finished product.
The cloth, wrap in one piece as a shawl to cover the head and shoulders, and another piece wrapped around her waist. It was also used as a baby carriers on her back.
Raffia Palm use to make fabric
The Congolese women with the children tied in the back their everyday chores is going to the farmers market or returned from the fields with their long baskets overflowing all kinds of vegetables and fruits.
So, I decide to test my dog Rita and gave her a command “Rita attack” and I point the two women. I really did not believe she would attack the two ladies but she did and ripped their clothes off. My father went outside to see what was going on and saw our dog ripping their clothes off. I got frighten and run back home hid under the table. I knew my father was going to get mad at me. He replaced the fabric for both of the ladies and I got in trouble. Promise I will never do it again.
Chapter 11
Boa Snakes
It was not unusual for snakes coming to our house. I remember for an entire week every night I would dream the same dream over and over again and it was about a snake coming inside the house.
So, one day before going to bed, I decided if I dream the same dream again, I will force myself to wake up so that the dream goes away and never comes back again. Well I was right, the same dream came back about the snake entering the house, I woke up, I told my subconscious mind that I do not want to dream again the same dream about the snake and never again I dreamed about it.
Chapter 12
Civil War in Kongolo
I was ten years old when the Congo Civil War, or Congo Crisis was a complex political turmoil that began just days following Belgium’s granting to the Congolese Independence June 30,1960.
The Escape of the town of Kongolo in 1960
One late afternoon in 1960, the Belgium army went house to house and told the families to leave right away and to meet up with another group at the Lualuba River because a civil war is about to start and we are not safe. We actually knew things were in turmoil in the Congo so we were preparing to move to Canada.
When the Belgium soldiers came, I was taking a shower. My dad grab me quickly and we all got in the car with my mom, dad and my brother leaving everything behind, our belongings, and our pets. We drove to the CFL (Compagnie des Chemins de fer du Congo) near the Lualaba River. It was a full moon that night, the first group that arrived started to walk in a single file towards the Lualaba River two Barge boats waiting for us.
The name of the first barge was “ Le Kadia” and the second one “The Baron Janssens” waiting for the second group, to take us in Kabalo where a train was waiting for us. My brother at that time was 16 years old and he was the only one who knew the area.
He was the one that was assigned in the front line guiding us towards the Lualaba River walking in a single line in the dark, birds warbling, Lions groaning in the distance but we kept on walking. The second barge “ The Baron Janssens” was waiting for us.
“The Baron Janssens” with 300 passengers was a very old Barge boat. By the time we were all in the boat, women and children squeezed in a cabin and the men hid wherever they could find refuge, my dad was in a small lifeboat. It wasn’t long before the rebels caught up with us and started to shoot towards our boat. My mother lay on top of me protecting me from the bullets. Unfortunately, because the boat was so old it was moving very slowly so they contact the first boat to come back and with gables they pulled us faster away from Congolese soldiers going towards the town, Kabalo. It was a miracle because our boats sail nearby a military camp. Every one of us took cover and kept quiet until we arrived in Kabalo. The boat was sailing opposite direction from the military camp to keep us safe from them. When all the shootings occurred still nearby Kongolo and my father was in a lifeboat he decided to move in a different area and a Belgium gentlemen took his place on the lifeboat few seconds later, he got shot on the head and died instantly. When we arrive in Kabalo, we had 1 death and 2 casualties.
Chapter 13
The train in Kabalo
When we arrived in Kabalo, Lieutenant Jacquemart order that all weapons be thrown overboard to avoid retaliation from the soldiers upon our arrival.
In Kabalo, the soldiers raided each person from top to bottom before we board the train. Destination Albertville from there, we went to Dares Salam then Nairobi where the Red Cross waited of us with clothing and food and from Nairobi we settled two years in Bristol, England.
It was in the train that I realized we will never see our home again in Kongolo and that I will never see my German Sheppard Rita again. I started to cry and panicking. Scared for the unknown life for my family. We heard a few weeks later Lieutenant Jacquemart was killed in Malemba N’Kulu in an armed confrontation against dissident Balubas.
War destroys families and destroys relationships. We are innocent, we are heroes, all we want is to live in peace regardless what race, color, or religion because in the end, we are ONE.
Chapter 14
Second time a refugee now in Cyprus
Back in Cyprus, before 1974, I was 18 years old when Turkey invaded Cyprus. I remember hearing the Turkish planes flying low, I was inside my house alone. I heard people running afraid, afraid of a war. I immediately took a paper cutter and pointing it to my heart. Yes, I was ready to kill myself. I said to myself, “I will never let the Turks take me away”. My mum and I lived in Famagusta in a house my dad bought for us and several properties for my sisters and I. He wanted to make sure we are secure and always have a home to come, too.
After that scary night, my father told me to come and live with him in Kinshasa, The Republic of the Congo with his girlfriend.
In July 20, 1974 Turkey invaded part of Cyprus and the same year, August 14th, a second invasion took place during the Geneva peaceful resolution. My hometown, Famagusta a resort of 45,000 people was attack. My family was forced to leave as Turkey advanced, they never returned. We are the rightful owner of our properties that my father worked hard to make sure we have something for our future and for his grandkids. Ever since, my hometown was attack it became dead, empty, abandoned, home to the rats and reptiles. We can only stare and gaze our hometown through bar wires. We are not allowed to return.
Famagusta Today is a home to nobody; it is a ghost town under the occupation of the Turkish army empty buildings, decaying as the days goes by.
About the Creator
Nikki Causer
Freelance Web Designer and a French teacher
Traveled in many places, I try to always have a chocolate croissant for breakfast in France, I love taking walk’s in New York, eat French fries in Belgium, Halloumi cheese in Cyprus.
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