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EXOTIC PLACES FUEL OUR IMAGINATION, AND EVEN MORE SO WHEN WE’RE YOUNG.

THREE WOMEN TELL ZOHRA ALY HOW THEIR EXPAT CHILDHOOD LEFT A PERMANENT

IMPRINT ON THEIR PSYCHE.LUCY HOBGOOD-BROWN, 61COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT CONSULTANTLived in the Democratic Republic of the Congo from age one to 17.

“One of my earliest memories is of going to my father’s birth village in a dugout canoe. It took a week of paddling by my father and his Congolese friends to cover 300 kilometres on three rivers.

Dad was born and raised in Congo – my grandparents were American missionaries. He left Congo to study in the States, and returned with us to work as a Christian missionary.

I was only a toddler during the journey to the village, Lotumbe, but I vividly recall stopping along the way to swim in the

creek, and hearing the monkeys chattering and making swooshing sounds as they swung from tree limbs. Giant rumbles and the cracking of trees told us elephants were moving through the forest, where we’d sleep at night. We were welcomed at the village by hundreds of people, who got the news of Dad’s arrival by the talking drums.

We had chooks, grew our own vegetables and ate lots of fresh tropical fruit – papayas, bananas, pineapples, rambutans, guavas and mangos. Our Congolese cook would buy cassava, the root vegetable, and grind it into a paste to serve with plantains [starchy bananas], fish or bushmeat. The Congolese also love grubs and

caterpillars, which provide protein, though they weren’t our favourites!

Any food shipments took months to arrive, so sometimes the expiry date had come and gone. I grew up thinking that marshmallows were meant to be crunchy! A visitor brought watermelon seeds from the States, which we planted. Only one watermelon survived, and we watched it grow with anticipation until finally, Mum declared it ripe enough to be served at a special lunch. She nearly cried when the beaming cook carried in a bowl of steaming, boiled watermelon and placed it before the VIP guest.

We enjoyed simple pleasures – swimming in the Congo River, visiting the zoo, building forts out of food-shipment

boxes, and reading. Mum had brought barrels of books to Congo, and as the sun set, my sisters and I were tucked into our cots while Mum read out aloud.

We were home-schooled by Mum, a librarian, for the primary years. When we moved to Kisangani, a city in the north, we attended a Belgian school, until several foreigners were killed in a 1964 revolution and we were sent to the American School of Kinshasa [the capital]. It had only 300 students and it was here that I met my childhood sweetheart, Kevin, also a child of missionaries. We later married.

Growing up in Congo taught me to appreciate the moment and take nothing for granted. I’ve lived and worked in eight countries since, and didn’t return to Congo until 2004. That’s when I realised that I could use my professional skills to help those in need. My non-profit organisation, HandUp Congo, also keeps me connected with Congolese friends year round. With every trip back, I gain confidence that I can make a small but effective difference in people’s lives.”

Neighbourhood watch: Lucy Hobgood-Brown (in blue shorts) aged 10, with her sister Susan, aged 7, and Pygmy tribesmen in Congo.

the magic FARAWAY YEARS