We had eight students who had enrolled at the time, after which I received a comment from a colleague that if that happened again, we should reconsider whether the course should continue to exist. Probably well-intentioned at the time, but certainly not stress-reducing for me. At the same time, there was already a sense of unease — it felt like we were walking along the edge of a cliff.
We had a great series of lectures, and during those lectures it quickly became clear that the assignment was almost impossible. During Ebola outbreaks there is extreme urgency, while at the same time it is impossible to transport building materials from outside Congo, and often even within Congo, without it taking months. On top of that, the assignment itself didn’t feel quite right — it seemed too difficult, almost unbalanced — which added to that feeling of discomfort.
It was extra difficult because we were in the Covid lockdown at the time, which made it particularly hard as a lecturer to sense how the students were doing. There was also uncertainty from the organisation about whether the course could continue in the future due to the low number of students, which added another layer of pressure.
Despite all of this, incredibly smart solutions and designs came out of the project. There were solutions that were entirely made from local materials, and at the same time provided an answer to the extremely high contagiousness of Ebola.
I learned a tremendous amount from that course at the time, especially that you can give students extremely challenging problems, and that they will find solutions with enormous dedication. I also learned that listening to wise advice from colleagues can sometimes be good, but can also create unrest.
In the end, it all turned out to be not as dramatic as it had felt at the time. But as they say in Brabant: “Achteraf is mooi wonen” — hindsight is a beautiful place to live.
