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Published: August 15th 2008
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Finally I did it and survived. In six weeks as a rambling single white female in the Congos, I have to admit that I encountered relatively few problems. Of course I was arrested, interrogated by an army General and put under police surveillance, all for taking photos in places of strategic importance, but not a single franc was paid in bribes and I always parted with more friends and telephone numbers than when I arrived.
Tourism is not really a concept widely understood in the Congos. Few people could grasp the idea of visiting a country to see how other people live or simply to experience daily life. A white woman who travels alone is still quite rare, even more so when she spends most of here time visiting les quartiers peuplés and insists on taking ‘public transport’ or walking everywhere (I walked through two pairs of shoes). There is an increasing number of Westerns in the Congos, so the fact that my behaviour contrasted with their way of life gave rise to consternation. People quite simply did not understand me.
So how is life in the Congos? Kinshasa, Brazzaville and Pointe Noire are cities and probably not a
fair representation of life for the majority of the people in the Congos. However, they are all composed of la ville - city centre, typically with European style buildings housing banks, administrations and shops - and la cité - populous neighbourhoods with webs of sandy streets, markets and homes of all imaginable forms. Needless to say, I was more attracted to the latter.
The most striking difference between the Congos and Europe is that life is organised around daylight. People get up when the sun rises (around 6am) and go to bed when darkness falls. This sounds so obvious, yet in Europe our lives are governed by artificial light. With no electricity, there is a limited number of things to do after dark. It is also amazing how quickly the biorhythm adapts, even I managed to wake each morning at 07:30. Wherever I stayed I woke to the sound of palm brooms chasing dust from one pile to another, a much gentler way to start the day than the sound of my croaking alarm clock.
The absence of electrical appliances means that tasks we do in several minutes can take hours. Just to wash, water must be carried
and boiled (I opted for 6 weeks of cold showers). Dishes and laundry are not chucked into a machine but divided among basins and buckets for various phases of the scrubbing and rinsing process. Cooking the main meal of the day takes hours, water must be fetched, fires lit, everything washed, chopped and mixed by hand. Dinners for whole families are frequently cooked on a single charcoal stove.
The instability of the electricity supply (if any at all), the manual approach to everyday tasks and of course the climate all contribute to the art of slow living.
The Congos are full of contradictions. Clothes, mobiles phones and any imported products are extraordinarily expensive. This is partly due to transport costs but primarily a result of the extortionate taxes demanded by custom officials. Goods are at least double and frequently triple their price in Europe. Yet in parallel there is a world where people struggle to survive each day, a world where everything no matter how insignificant, a plank of wood, a used tyre or a shirt has a monetary value. While imported goods are being sold for hundreds of dollars, street vendors are selling single measures of cooking
oil and medicines as well as individual biscuits, sweets and cigarettes.
With limited formal employment, people do their best to make ends meet. Any sort of a vehicle makes you a taxi driver, several blades and a mirror and you are a barber, with a single games console you are in the amusement industry, a couple of bottles of nail varnish and you can offer pedicures, some shoe polish and a brush and you are in the shoe shine business. I even met a man with a generator who charged an hourly rate to neighbours for recharging their mobile phones. But by in large the Congolese love buying and selling. Women go to the markets and buy vegetables for resale in their neighbourhoods and there is a constant flux between Kinshasa and Brazzaville with traders buying and selling everything from flour to sugar, soap and cement.
My impression is that the quality of life for the people of Brazzaville seems to have improved over the past four years. While they may not have more disposal income nor easier access to basic infrastructure, the scars of the past have started to fade. People now seem to be willing to
move on and have started to rediscover la joie de vivre. In Kinshasa on the other hand, the pressure is mounting. The continuous influx of those in search of a better life is further straining already limited infrastructure and resources. Demand for transport, accommodation and jobs by far exceed supply. The pressure is tangible and there is increasing insecurity across the city with a series of recent assassinations arousing further concern (even among the locals). However I am filled with much more hope for the future of both countries this after this visit. In both Congos there is frustration with the governments in power (which is openly voiced) and a increasing desire for change. This in itself marks huge progress since my last visit when resignation seemed to prevail.
For those of you short on time, I have put my favourite photos from the trip under this entry. Have fun!
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