This wasn’t the best of days, up early and off to the Russian embassy where the money changers accumulate outside. Then to the Port at eight thirty, after going through Customs and immigration we waited for the ferry to arrive sometime after 12 am the ferry boat arrived. The chaos that consumed the surrounding area was amazing. Blind people being herded like animals off the boat, screaming, pushing and fighting as the police authorities tried to control the herds of people pouring through the entrance gates. I’ve never seen so many one legged and blind people in my life. The blind were all attached to one another and walked in following lines. The police regularly had to use the force of whips to try and bring order to the fighting and pushing. As goods etc were being forced by the customs areas. When we loaded Martins was asked to leave the vehicle and walked behind with the crowds. As I approached the police they asked for my papers, as I passed them loading authorities were banging hard on the side of the vehicle trying to force me into boarding. I wasn’t going anywhere without passport and carnet .At one point I thought my windows were going to shatter as the constant banging on them was so forceful.
I had heard that the real problems would begin on the DRC side of the Congo river. There was a Congolese lorry driver that I had befriended in the hope that, he might be heading out of Kinshasa on the Matadi road, and also another local that had engine problem. I offered him a tow up the loading ramp on the other side. Once on board, a mixture of vehicles and hundreds of people. Chaos assumed prime position again.
On the other side we were told and were expecting the disinfectant scam. $60 us dollars for tourists and your vehicle must be disinfected. We were told the police were in on it. As soon as they approached us, I said no way. I spoke to one of the officials in the office and said that no way were we having this spray scam. He said in no uncertain terms that we would be put on the boat and returned, to Congo, Brazzaville. I said ‘ok help yourself’ so strong my resolve. The thought of returning, a true horror. We escaped the immigration fee that was asked for and the carnet stamp fee, we just didn’t put the money on the table. After they were stamped just walked out. Another scam. We had no us dollars and £40.00 seemed agreeable to the officials in white coats from the department of scams, sorry health.
Whilst we were in immigration we were interviewed as intensely as we were in the Congo DRC embassy. They wont issue a transit visa unless you have an Angola visa. You can only get the 5 day Angolan visa in Matadi so the only way in to DRC is to go in as a tourist on a 30 day tourist visa. Where are you staying, what sights will you visit, what’s your main purpose here. So much investigative work was required to be certain in obtaining the visa. Luckily the Congo Basin DRC has many interesting sights. The Bonobos reserve (gorillas), Botanical gardens, the various water falls etc.
Once out of the compound remarkably we managed to weave our way out of Kinshasa onto the Matadi road.
If it wasn’t for our deadline of meeting Charlie it would have been truly very interesting to have stayed in the DRC for much longer. Indeed the Congo’s had been given a very bad press by some peoples past experiences being exaggerated, and some recent real problems from police harassment, theft and bullying. But my experiences once out of the border posts were so very different to the scare stories told. The police were helpful and interested. The local people kind and generous, and the countryside stunning, albeit a whistle stop run through both countries.
For the countries to develop they need the help and investment from outside, and for that reason alone the police road blocks I’m sure have been told to behave.
As we made our way to Matadi on the road from Kinshasa there were constantly military vehicles, ammunition carriers, troop carriers etc heading in the Kinshasa direction. The ammunition lorries complete with armed gun operators’ sitting on top of the trucks, with bipod and machine guns.
At two junctions we had to stop as troops on foot passed. They obviously were responding to problems further north and were not interested in us.
We were approximately 60 miles from Kinshasa and having difficulty finding a Catholic Mission, where we hoped to camp for the night. After many dead ends in the dark, being followed by loads of locals on foot, all shouting Zongoo, whatever that means.
As we drive back on the highway, I see some headlights of another car, driving at us on the same side of the road. I pull over narrowly missing the head on. Its is then I realize that I was on the wrong side of the road. Driving at night is always a no no. For many reasons, locals often don’t have lights, can be drunk, animals, bandit activities can be confused as genuine police and military road blocks. Also tiredness and other basic visual difficulties. Here I was breaking one of the most important rules of Africa.
We leave the village of Kisantu, and one mile outside a field had been washed away by come heavy rain, we drive up the mountain in the direction the GPS tells us the Mission is. In total dark, we come to another dead end, this time no followers, this is the place we cook and make camp.
In the morning we had quite an audience of interested locals standing around the tent as we packed away and breakfasted. As we drove off they wandered back to their Cassava fields and in the distance you could here singing coming from the o so close missionary we failed to find last night.
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