Sunset from my hotel

My first aerial impression of Kinshasa was of darkness. No, I’m not referring to the Heart of Darkness cliché; quite literally, the whole city was dark. Small glowing lights floated around like boats at sea, but they didn’t seem like they could illuminate a house or, indeed, a city centre. Apparently, there is not electricity to supply the whole grid, so the different neighbourhoods have to trade off nights when they’ll have power. Later, when I was in the taxi on the way to my hotel, I observed joy. It was 9pm but people were out on their stoops, chatting and laughing, in the dark.  It was a real party. There’s no such thing as crosswalks in Kinshasa. People just bob their way through four-lane highways at their own peril. But I noticed that the driver anticipated the seeming unpredictability of these kamikaze pedestrians. So it all seemed to flow quite well.

My arrival here in Congo pretty much took place in a fog; after nearly 48 hours in transit, it was hard for me to figure out which planet I was on. But this morning, when I felt more like a person again, I got to see the city in daylight in all its glory. Kinshasa has apparently come a long way in the past four years, thanks in part to a massive infrastructure project funded by the Chinese—in exchange, I believe, for nearly exclusive rights to lucrative mining and oil concessions, but don’t quote me on that. There are magnificent monuments and buildings, some of which are left over from the colonial era, and some which are more recent Chinese additions. I got to see a statue of Patrice Lumumba, the first Prime Minister and national hero. It was a real treat.

Things I have learned about Kinshasa so far:

• Pretty much anyone who is not Congolese here is carrying around massive amounts of cash, and yet robberies are very rare. Surprising, in one of the poorest countries in the world
• People here are drop-dead gorgeous and they really know how to dress
• Everyone I’ve met has been incredibly friendly, dynamic and helpful
• Congolese French is nothing like any French I’m used to. People speak so fast and with such a dramatic flair; there are so many figures of speech and metaphors. It’s almost as if the Congolese are actors and they crafted their lines beforehand in order to lend as much weight and profundity to their words as possible. I hope I can keep up
• I feel very looked after. It’s as if people seem to know how terribly their country is portrayed in the media, so they go to extra lengths to show another side to visitors.

That’s all for now! I’ll write again next week when we get to Katanga—another area of the country with a rich history. Revolution, secession, Patrice Lumumba’s assassination, and some of the largest concentration of copper mining in the world. I will be in awe!

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