It was just another regular morning, and I felt that I'm not okay. I was not breathing well and had a runny nose. As it was a Thursday; I had dodged the morning jog that we had every Thursday and Sunday at 04:45 a.m. Despite the coldness and the morning mist from Nyiragongo volcano, we were obligated to be present in that course matinale with father rector of the community. We ran from Kyeshero to round about ULPGL1 and continued the road to Terminus towards Hopital Provinciale and came back to the community. It was roughly 10 km long. Given my health condition and strength Every time I stopped at Terminus or sometimes near ULPGL. So as our dean had given me permission to not go in those morning sports. Hence, I stayed in my bedroom sleeping.

After mass and breakfast, I told our dean that I was not feeling well, and he let me go to the hospital. The hospital was just a block away. We often went there to give food to the patients. Upon arrival the sister in charge of the hospital claimed surprisingly: "Eric, you are here again!" and I replied softly: "Yes sister!" She continued "But you were here last week! Pills didn't work?" I nodded and continued to the gate to wash my hands and check my temperature as there had been an Ebola breakout in the area. Next, I went to the reception room. And as usual, Clemence, a receptionist, was there with a lot of make-up as many girls in that country do. Maybe they look good but me I don't like make-ups. I liked to talk to Clemence because even though she was Congolese, we had conversations in my native language. As she was recording the information of another patient I asked her to lend me the phone and then started to chat with my mom whom I was missing. I checked my weight which was good as I had been eating healthily.

She gave me the papers that I had to show the doctor, and then I left the reception room to the consultation room. After a while I met the doctor who was new in my eyes because I was often consulted by Dr Leonidas, a humble and kind doctor. After telling my doctor how I was feeling in language that I wasn't good at, I was surprised when he told me to go to the laboratory for some exams. As we thought, I had sinusitis so I took pills for calm. But the new doctor sent me to the laboratory and the girl who works in the laboratory drew some blood on my arm with harshness and told me to come in the afternoon. It was nearly 10:00 a.m and my colleagues were in class studying English, the course that I didn't like because our teacher was boring. So I went to see Clemence again, she lent me her phone but forbade me to use her data as she was using mbs and the phone bill was expensive in that country. So I used the free facebook with an Orange sim card and I chatted with some of my friends in Rwanda.

After finding that my chat was boring too, I decided to go back in the community to see my colleagues and surprisingly I found them in manual work. I couldn't dodge again because I was feeling okay. I went to the dormitory in my somewhat private room, and wore manual work clothes. I joined others in cutting the grass in the garden. I started telling my friends Janvier and Didier how I was drawn blood asking them if nose stuff may be related to malaria or typhoid. They were also surprised but told me as usual that it was common for Congolese. I didn't comment anything because we were speaking kinyarwanda yet the accepted language of the community was only French. Even Congolese, Ugandans, Ivorians, were not allowed to speak native languages like swahili, luganda,...