Thursday

Disclaimer

This blog reproduces content from explorers Josephine and Frederik from RadioBaobab.be that was originally published on the Expedition Portal Forum.

The author of this blog is not associated with the travelers but has simply transfered the content to Blogger for increased readability.

If you have questions or comments about this trip, please visit http://radiobaobab.be or post in the original thread here: http://www.expeditionportal.com/forum/showthread.php?t=50799

Many thanks to Josephine and Frederik for sharing their adventure!

note: the posts below are in the process of being formatted

Day 1

Day 1
Congo Zaire

Featuring

Josephine:



Frederik:



and our trusty steed:



Map of congo. Lubumbashi in the bottom right corner. Kinshasa on the left.



Or as depicted on our Michelin 746 map



The Michelin is a pretty good map but it has a few known flaws. One of the biggest flaws is probably the "Route National 1" in DRC.. as we are soon to find out...

I will be posting this report as I write it.. please be patient ;-)

The story starts in Pionee... No, that's not true, it actually starts 2 years earlier, but I will come back to that later. So for now let's start this story at in Pioneer campsite just outside Lusaka where we treat ourselves on some home made French fries (but as you all know, French fries have got nothing to do with France, as they have been invented by the Belgians!)



We deserved it as it had been about 600 days since we last seen set foot in our home country and we missed the food! The other reason was that we were not expecting to be eating good in the next month or two. After all we were about to go deep into the Congo (Democtratic Republic of Congo, Congo-Kinshasa or Congo-Zaire, all the same but I will refer to it simply as "Congo").

As supplies would be very hard to get we decided to stock up on supplies. I know that for South Africans it very normal to transport an entire pick&pay to your destination :twisted: but for us this was very unusual as we usually eat what we can find. But not so in this case, we bought food for an entire month. 3 meals a day. This would prove to be a very good decision





I also gave the Landcruiser a last service, everything was working pretty much as expected, so just the regular oil/filter change. I also stocked up on some good oil (diff + engine) as this would also be hard to get there.



Fully loaded we left Lusaka. We always had a strange anxious/nervous feeling when entering a new country. But this time the feeling was much stronger. Was this the first time we were actualy nervous for entering a country?

The border at Kasumbalesa was the usual chaotic affair. Especially the Zambian side proved to be an annoying experience. Many pushy touts and very crowded. The Congolese side on the other hand had very little touts. It was chaotic too, but much smoother then their neighbours.

We were warned about the "5$ dollar first entry" bribe at the Congolese side.

This conversation was in French ofcourse:

Customs Officer: "Hi, that'll be 5$US"
- Me: "Ofcourse,but what is it for exactly?"
CO: "Tourist tax"
- Me: "Oh, I was not aware of the existance of a tourist tax?"
CO: "Yes, but only on the first entry"
- Me: "Aaaah, ofcourse how could I forget. I already paid this when I entered at by boat in Kinshasa a few months ago" <-- I lied, there is no such tax and I never paid such tax. But I did have the proof of my previous entry in Congo in my passport Co: *long silence* Co: *hesitating* "You still have to pay..." He lost, I won. He knew it but he would not give in ofcourse. I sat there for another 10 minutes before I was let go without any further words. This went smoothyl... very smoothly! I was starting to think that all these corruption stories about Congo were overrated. Little did I know at that time... We actually bougt insurance at the border. Not that we believe that it would be of any use in case of an accident. But just to avoid the bribes associated with not having any insurance. Next obstacle was the road tax for the short distance between the border and Lubumbashi. 50US$ for foreigners! I waited until a lorry was waiting at the barrier and then just drove past it and floored it. 50$ in the pocket :-) We are normally very principle about official (!!!) taxes, we just pay them as they usually benefit the roads, etc.. . In this case it is known that all of the money for this road toll goes directly to Kinsahsa. Nothing ever returns to the maintenance of these roads, or anything remotely related to the province it is in. It shows:




We arrived in Lubumbashi - "Capital du cuivre" (Capital of Copper) and were instantly stopped by the police. Checked all papers, checked vehicle, asked for "Un jus" (cold drink). Very pushy and aggressive. We got rid of them but two blocks further we got stopped again. Same story. This was getting tiring!

We just stopped stopping altogether after a while. It was obvious that our white skin and strange number plates attracted a lot of unwanted attention!

At the border we had been lucky to bump into a Belgian lady. She was living in Lubumbashi together with Soeur Bernadette, a Congolese "Maman" (literally translated = mother). She invited us to stay at her place.

They lived in a lovely little villa called "Bonne Esperance". They take of orphans and constantly have 3 or 4 children living in the house. There was no room in the house, but we could stay in our rtt in the driveway. They were wonderful people, we really enjoyed staying there.



They also had no electricity when we where there. When we inquired about this (after all, this was central Lubumbashi) we were told about the odd system in Lubumbashi. Because the electricy factory is in such a bad state it cannot cope with the demand. Therefore there is always one area that gets no electricity. They change the area every week or so.

The next few days we spent in Lubumbashi arranging all sorts of things. Money, Permits, information, ... The word went round quickly that Belgian tourists had arrived and our network of contact grew by the minute. Soon we were welcome guests in the Belgian Consulate and we moved to another house of Belgians working in Lubumbashi. They worked for CTB, the Belgian aid organisation. These contacts would prove extremely valuable during our trip.

We also got in touch with the director of the big coper mine in Lubumbashi and were invited for a tour of the factory

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Congo must be one of the richest countries in the world. They could have been the Dubai of Africa with what they have in the ground. Ever since their independance the biggest mining company in Congo is Gécamines. Once a hugely profitable company it is now only a shadow of its former self. Years of corruption and mismanagement have left Gécamines in a state of defacto bankrupt. All their mines are nothing more but ruins.

Info about Gécamines: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%A9camines

The ruins of these mines are now home to many "creuseurs". Usually young children who are digging in the remains of the mines for whatever is left. They work long days and have to give most of their profit to organised gangs.

The mine in Lubumbashi also has a huge pile of mining waste. The pile is actually still so rich in cobalt and copper that a foreign company (Forest) is running a production factory.











And ofcourse the company car of the director was..


A major showstopper for our trip was a Permit to travel trough Congo.

Nobody really know what kind of permit one needs, let alone where to apply for it. But everybody agrees that a permit is required. Officially it has got something to do with the many mining areas to be crossed. We contacted the few people who have attempted travelling trough congo but they too never managed to get hold of the permit. One of these guys did get arrested and deported because he could not provide a permit.
Our Belgian Consulate really tried hard to get this stupid little piece of paper for us, but to no avail. They even managed to get us invited with the governer of Katanga, but he too could not give it to us. After many days of trying we asked the consulate to give us some sort of official looking letter with an official looking stamp. We would chance it without the permit!



The permit is on the right. It has no real value, it basicly says no more then "There are tourist from Belgium and they are travelling trough congo, please assist them in their travels". But then in official speak.
On the left are copies of all sorts of other official documents. We had aout 30 copies of all of these.
This is our DRC visa:



It's time to hit the road!

After leaving Lubumbashi one quickly arrives at yet another toll booth. 50$US again (!) for a short piece of horribly potholed tarmac. This time I stop the car a long end before the booth and walk to get my ticket. There is a big "queue" (read: a pile of people). I just stuck my arm trough the window without letting them see myself and give the equivalent amount for locals (1$US). They give me back a receipt and presto. Another 49$ saved!

The road starts out good



But the asphalt soon stops and makes way for a graded dirt road. It is in pretty good condition.



We make good progress until we hit the end of a traffic jam. A seemingly endless series of big lorries stand still on the entire width of the road. We stop and are greeted with demands for "cadeaux", "un jus", etc... Mind you, these are not officials, they are just the truckdrivers.

Josephine stays in the car while I walk to the front of the queue (a kilomter or so). In the valley there is a huge mud pit that just about swallowed an articulated lorry. This obviously happened quite some time ago. Next to it is another lorry stuck, leaning dangerously. Next to that one is yet another stuck lorry. And another, ... There are 5 lorries next to eachother. All stuck. This is now blocking the entire road. 20 man are digging away but when they see me they instantly stop and start shouting at me

"Hé le Blanc!"
"Mundele!' = mzungu
"Le Blanc, Il va payer!" = The white guy, he is going to pay (if I want to pass)
"Donner moi de l'argent" = Give me money

There were about a 100 people on the side of road watching the spectacle and they started laughing at me and shouting all sorts of nasty things.

This entire situation felt very treatening and I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. While walking back to Josephine some more friendly people talked to me. Apparantly they had been there for 4 days now without any movement. But they said small 4x4's could get past.

Not without hesitation we started negotiating our way trough the parked trucks and around the mudpit. You could see that the crowd was just waiting for us to get stuck.

Fortunately we got trough.

Sorry, no pictures of this mess. The enviroment was just to hostile to start flashing expensive cameras.

When we continued on the same road we would pass other smaller mudpits. These bogholes always had a "crew". When a truck arrived, they would throw in rocks so the truck could pass... for a fee ofcourse. After the truck passed they removed the rocks again. A lucrative occupation!

In our books this is just plain wrong and we refuse to support such behaviour. So we always charged trough in 4x4, hoping we would not get ourself stuck.

We neared the first town: Likasi. At the town border we got stopped by an agressive bunch of policeman - 12 of them to be exactly. They quickly made it clear that we did not have the necessary permit and therefore we were under arrest!

Oops! 8O

Come to think of it. It is rather disturbing that I can say that I know what to do in such a situation. First thing to do is to remain calm and - politely - deny that you are under arrest. This may sound strange, but it is a simple test and always worked for me. If they are serious they will just take you to a police station. If they start discussing you know you'll be allright and they are trying to discriminate you but the goal is just to get a bribe.

They started discussing. This was good. It was a heated discussion though and they clearly were not amused. It took us the best part of an hour to make them believe that our "official letter from the embassy" was a valid permit. They probably never saw a "tourist" permit before (does it even exist?) and we could tell they were not sure about their case. The official stamps did the trick.

They turned their attention to the Landcruiser, checked al the lights, windscreen wipers, fire extinguisher (Yes, we had 2 8-) ), emergency triangle (Yes, we had 2 8-) ) and finally found a culprit: we only had 1 reversing light! I explained that in Belgium only 1 reversing light is obligatory (its true) and still refused to pay anything. Then things turned a bit ugly. Without a doubt they just wanted to make a quick buck from us and they were getting impatient. We heard somebody kicking the car, they started shouting and made it very clear that we are in Congo and that they were the boss here and we should listen and pay. They tried opening both doors at the same time (locked) and started shouting we were arrested and we had to go to the "police station". NOW!

This was bad. No more room for negotiations. At all costs did we want to prevent ending up in a police station as that would mean bad news! As a final resort I called our embassy and they talked to the police officers. Their names and ranks were asked - which they refused to give. At the same time Josephine kicked into action. The people here that know Josephine can surely attest that although she is tough as nails, she is truly an incredible sweet girl. She got very angry at the police officers and got very cross. This made an impression. They kept us there for another half hour but lost interest eventually.

Before we were let go one office said "Ce n'est pas la Belgique ici, tu es en Congo!" - "This is not Belgium, you are in Congo". He hissed and gave us a terrifying look

With our adrenaline levels at maximum we continued into Likasi.

We did not even drive for a full kilometer or we were stopped again by the police..

This time it was a jolly fat guy. He laughed when he stopped us, gave us a friendly hello and without skipping a beat continued that we had to pay a fine. "Malchargé" (badly loaded) he claimed. At the same time a truck passed with a dozen people hanging of the back.

That was the funniest thing we heard all day and we burst out laughing. He too joined in the laughing. Anyhow, back to reality so we just said goodbye and started to drive of. He jumped onto the driving boards and asked for "un jus" in a final attempt before letting go.

The good gravel road continued for a short while after Likasi but continues to a mining town. That is ofcourse the reason that this road exists, the mine. The Route National 1 (RN1) - the highway to Kinshasa - forks of at a small village called Tenke. The track immediately changed in a sandy jungle track.



We passed a few small villages. No more trace of Police on this smaller road. What a relief! There was also barely any traffic. We helped a small truck that somehow managed to get stuck next to the road.



The road forked again a short while later at Tshilongo. The main track continued to other villages. The road we took was the RN1. It followed the railway and saw barely any traffic. Sandy and bumpy.



Our goal for our first day was the Catholic mission of Kansenia. About 250 km from Lubumbashi were we left at 7 in the morning. We were 20km away from Kansenia when the sun set at around 6. But we decided to push on.



It had rained a lot lately, but in the sand this caused no real problems. Until we hid some sort of a marsh. We passed many traces of other vehicles who got stuck here. The soil was very sticky pitch black cotton mud. We were tired and it was dark. We got stuck :roll:





3 hours of digging. Sandpates, hi-lift, the whole lot. Sweating like a pig. We could barely hear eachother with all the insect buzzing around our ears. But we managed to get out.

In the dark we were greeted by the priests in the mission. Before we could even say something they said "Il faut rien dire, on comprend!" - "No need to talk, we understand". They were friendly and gave us a bucket of water to wash in. We could park the car in their garden. We closed our tent at midnight. The adrenaline was still rushing trough our veins.

Progress after 1 day of driving. This was supossed to be the easiest part of the entire trip. It would be the last day we would be able to cover that much distance on a single day.

Day 2

Day 2

It's 6 in the morning when we hear a noise underneath our rooftop tent. It sounds like little kids giggling. It are little kids giggling!

15 of them are waiting under our tent. This is a spectacle they cannot miss. They try to be quiet but fail. We manage to stay in bed until 8 but sleeping is out of the question with all the noise.

Prudence, Séraphin, Olette, Ami, Dombolo, Aimé, Yvette, Europa, Calence, …





The mission is at the same time a (boarding) school. During our little muddy ordeal of the day before a bolt broke off from our wheelcarrier. We did not have a spare bolt of that size, but the mission had a lathe so they could make one for us. This had to wait until noon because then the generator would be running for an hour. We decided to have a rest day. That gave us plenty of time to reflect on the previous day.

We like kids, but we were silently hoping they would have to go to class today so we could have some rest. Alas, it was a holiday so we were bombarded to babysitter for the day :roll: :wink:



The kids were just like kids everywhere, but somehow the begging had crept in already. They frequently asked for "cadeaux" and all sorts of other things.
As is usual in many countries, the young girls have to take care of their littile sister from a very young age.


The priests (Brothers actually) are nice guys. There are 4 of them, young and smart. All of them have studied in Lubumbashi or Kinshasa. After they finished the seminary they were sent to a mission. They cannot choose which one. We could hear the sadness in their voices when they told their stories.

They sampled the "world" when studying, they have a degree (one of them had a masters in engineering) and then they are sent to a mission. They know they will probably never have the chance again to live in a city. At the mission they take care of the kids, teach, etc.. A noble and rewarding job. But they carry all this knowledge that they cannot put in practice here. They have no computers, no tools, no electricity, no budget, ...

Their living quarters were very comfy and clean for Congolese standards. They had a radio and a TV set. Because of their proximity to Lubumbashi they had a regular supply of newspapers.

The priest-engineer was setting up a project to generate clean energy from a river. He had a recycling project. A radio project. An irrigation project, ... He had to run all these projects without any funds, without material. So many ideas, so little chances.

They remained positive but you could see it in their eyes that they were sad. Without a doubt they would take the first opportunity to get out of there. It would be a great loss for the mission and the village but I couldn't blame them. In the way our talks went we thought we could hear them crying for help. To take them to Europe, to give them funds, to supply them with material. They did not speak these words, but to us it was clear that they really longed for those things. We were not able to provide this. It made us sad and we felt guilty.

We thought about our experiences of the previous day. As mentioned before we always had this nervousness/anxiousness when going to a new country. Usually it dissapeared within minutes when we were welcomed by friendly people in a friendly country. We had been in Congo for a week now. Of which we only spent 1 day on the road. But the nervousness was still there.

It seemed like so many Congolese tried their best to make us feel unwelcome. And the few friendly people we met made us feel totally out of place with their tragic stories. So many people expected that we would be able to help them. Could we stand it to keep dissapointing those people? We are just tourists passing trough.. it feels wrong.

Was it wrong to come to Congo? Would it be like this for the rest of our trip? We are already exhausted after a single day on the road. The corruption, the roads... where we taking too many risks now?

Never before on our travels did we have so many doubts about what we were doing. My motto always is "Better to be sorry about what you did, then to be sorry about you did not do". I am fortunate to have found a partner who thinks exactly the same. We made a deal: as soon as somebody 'had enough' we would turn around - no questions asked.

We decided to push on, after all we have gotten this far already!

Day 3

Day 3

Day 3

Our second driving day starts off great!

In this area large areas are given in lease to cow farms. They are profitable organisations (mostly owned by foreigners) and maintain their own roads on their property. They can be used by the general public, although sometimes a fee is asked. As the main road is usually pretty horrible, we prefer the private roads. We make good progress on these beautiful sandy tracks.



We also pass a ruin of what once must have been a grand building. The walls are marked with logos from a Belgian University. This must have once been some scientific study centre of sorts.


Even though the road was good, it was still requierd to pay attention. Too slow and no 4x4 and..





Stupid stupid stupid... but hey, it kept us busy for an hour! :roll:



At the end of the private road is a roadblock. No officials, but just some guy claiming we have to pay a toll fee. At that moment we did not know that this is generally accepted when you make use of the private roads. We were still a bit jumpy from our previous experiences with the police so we might have been a bit rude to the guy We got trough without paying He probably though we were completely nuts :wink:

The difference between the private road and the RN1 was immediately clear. 2 kilometers further we got ourselves into this situation.







Bugger! Time to get the shovel out again...

We were on a plain on top of a hill. It looked as if a B52 dropped a series of bombs. Huge craters everywhere. We could see another car in the distance.. we hadn't seen a car yet today. A lot of activity around the car, but no movement. Probably stuck as well.

We got out relatively fast only to get ourselves stuck in the next pit. The track between the craters was just to small and we slid into it.



We finally made it to the other car. It was a Landcruiser (ofcourse ;-) ) from an aid organisation. We did not talk much, we exchanged some road information and we let them use us as an anchor to winch them out.





They declared us crazy that we were planning to drive to Kin... nobody does that. But apparantely after the crater field the roads improves a bit, but it remains "très dur" - "Very hard".

We passed a few interesting settlements. One village in particular struck me as extremely fascinating. It had a big boulevard with grand buildings on both sides. Everything was in a horrible state, but it must have been a prestigous place before. The same village had a big roundabout with remains of fountain. There was a walled compound (with little wall remaining ) with a church and something that must have been a monastery.

So many interesting things. I would have loved to walk around here, explore, try to find out what it all was. But we couldn't. Stopping would mean that an instant crowd would form and it would be a question of minutes before all the town's officials would be there. Asking for permits and generally demanding money.

We didn't even take pictures whilst driving trough. I could kick myself for it now!

Not only is this country rich in raw materials, it also rich in history, nature, etc... it has all the reasons why tourist would pay prime tourist $dollars$. But that will not happen anytime soon for sure.. :cry:

Not all is bad though. Occasionally (and I must admit, it was a rare event) we meet nice people. Like this guy on his bike.



He stopped to say hello. He was a well educated person who previsouly worked as an accountant for a big company. The company is no longer there so now he survives like everybody else by trading a few things.



He was a good example of the older generation. Theygrew up in a prosperous (relative) Congo and have seen it go downhill. They still have the pride every person should have. The younger generation grew up in disastrously f*cked up country and lack the pride. Why should they, they know they do not get any chances?
It is that old generation that longs back to the colonial time. They acknowledge there were a lot of problems in that period and that they were discriminated by the white colonisator. But at least they had a functional country. They had roads and schools. They had jobs and could buy supplies. And above all, there was stability. Now there is nothing but uncertainty.. waiting for the next war to start.

The next 20 or so kilometer the road was better.



There is virtually no 4 wheeled traffic here, so no tracks exists. It is just a cleared out area in the bush. Usually with some eroded ruts to make it interesting.



We were pushing it a bit. We had been fighting with the road all day long without any real pauses. It was getting late and we were hoping to reach Luena today, where we know a Belgian brother was living in a catholic mission.

We were pushing it a bit too hard I guess and made a mistake. We normally always walk difficult bit before driving it. This time I thought it would be ok. The ground looked unstable but I was sure I could make it trough by taking enough speed. I did not know, however, that a huge rock was blocking the track just behind a curve. I had to stop and we instantly sunk in.


We were tired by now, it was getting late again. I was angry with myself because I made this stupid mistake. And I fell sorry for Josephine as she offered - as usual - to check the road out before driving trough. This could have been prevented.

We got the shovel out and starting working. 5 minutes. That is how long it took before the first people arrived. It quickly grew to a crowd of about 10 people.

I was digging to get the sandplate underneath one of the wheels. To reach the right spot I had to lay flat down underneath the car in the mud. I was eating mud everytime I dug. Josephine at the same time was dugging underneath another wheel.

"Donnez moi de l'argent" - "Give me money" someone asked

1st time, a second time. The third time he asked I was getting annoyed - understatement of the year ;-). I dropped my shovel and tried to get up. In doing so I bumped my head hard on the front axle (I was under the car in the mud, remember).

*Laughter*

I bit my thong and kept on digging.

"Donnez moi de l'argent"

Josephine asked the mob why they were asking us money

"Vous êtes blanc" - "You are white"

This conversation wouldn't lead anywhere useful... :roll: She told them that we had our own problems, that there would be no way that we would give them any money, and that it would be appreciated to just leave us alone as they were not really helping by talking to us while we were digging. They heard the magic word "help". help is usually associated withreward. So they offered to help us... but only if they would be paid for it.

Now, we have our pride and can be very stubborn. When I take risks I know things can go wrong, and if necessary I will fix it on my own. So I told them they were free to help us, but only if they wanted to really help us. I made it very clear that I was not letting me blackmail into this.

We returned to digging and they stood there and looked.

We did several attempt of trying to drive out, without much succes. More digging was required. Finally somebody took the intiative and offered to help out. I told him I was not going to pay and he agreed. It took another hour to liberate ourselves.

I offered the people that voluntarily helped some money to show my gratitude. That is just the right thing to do. They accepted but wanted more.

We drove off...

We lost a lot of time and we only had 20 minutes of daylight left. Our goal for that day - The mission in Luena - was another 50kilometers away. We would not make it. We would have to stay in a village

Quote:
Note: Why not a bushcamp? The road rarely allowed for it. A lot of the time one is driving either trough dense jungle or troughe steppes with very tall grass and bushes. No room to get off the road. And then there is the security aspect, for the first time on our travels we did not feal at ease with the local people. Our usual plan was to ask at mission posts, churches, ..
We stopped in the next village. The crowd that gathered grew huge very quickly. There must have been about 200 man around us. We asked if there was a church here, and if we could see the priest. The priest was summoned and we asked him if we could camp in the grounds of the church. His French was not very good. As a matter of fact, very few people spoke French. But he ageed and showed us a place.

We parked the car and got out. They offered us two chairs and asked us to sit. So we did. It was completely dark by now but almost full moon so we could see eachother well.

And there we were: sitting on a chair with 400 eyes looking at us. Nobody talked to us, they just looked. You could hear people talking to eachother and pointing at us... usually followed by some giggling. These people obviously had no idea what was happening to them. Neither did we 8O

The town's officials arrived and wanted to see our papers and we had to "register". They were friendly but very confused about what to do. We asked if we could have some water to wash ourselves which they immediately fetched... it was even warm! And we even got a bar of soap! But there was sill 200 man staring at us... . We hid behind the car and tried to wash us as good as possible.

It started raining.

A father approached us with a kid. The kid instantly started crying when he saw us. The father told us the kid had never seen a white person before. A few more kids were brought in to have them see the great mystery of white skin.

Although we were hungry, this did not seem the best place to get our cooking gear out, so we smugled a packet of biltong and some biscuits up in the tent and went to sleep. The crowd stayed for a long time after we dissapeared in our tent.

That night it rained hard. Our tent had developped some leaks. Every few minutes we could feel drops splashing on our body..

Our progress on our second day of driving (in blue)