Driving With Impunity

There is a lot of impunity in Congo. Do a google news search on Congo and a majority of the articles will discuss the lack of a functioning justice system and the culture of impunity that extends from the highest levels of the government and military to a low-level "traffic" cop. My focus today will address the latter, traffic. I have mentioned the driving here in Kinshasa before, but really one post on driving in Kinshasa is not sufficient. It's insanity out there.

Ridiculous-ness.

I detest when cars blink their lights at you. I am getting angry typing about it right now; I risk breaking my keyboard. When a driver wants to make a turn, instead of using the TURN SIGNAL (which, by the way, is the universal device for notifying other drivers that one wants to turn) he/she blinks his lights. Not to mention, the blinking of the lights is so egotistical. The driver blinking his lights is like, "I want to turn, so you, other driver coming the other direction and who has the right-of-way, you, must stop and allow me to make a turn as I am sooooooooooo much more important than you and cannot wait for a break in the traffic to make my turn, but I must make it now, at this moment, and not wait 30 seconds for you to pass me." I will now caveat this rant by saying that a lot of cars in Kinshasa do not have working turn signals or lights, so sometimes the driver of the car will flip his/her hand out of the window at you as an indication that he/she would like to turn, which is equally as awesome as blinking the lights.

The impatience of drivers here drives me nuts.  I am not claiming to be a patient driver, but in relation to the patience of the Congolese, I have the patience of a Zimbabwean waiting for Mugabe to kick it. (Haha, a little African humor.) These impatient people make more traffic. For example, I was driving home from work on Friday by way of the Blvd due to ongoing construction on my normal route. While in line to make a right turn off the Blvd, cars and mini buses filled to the brim with people were driving up the right side of the lane I was in (which was not a lane) to cut ahead. Other cars and mini buses were driving through a parking lot to get ahead in line. One mini bus that was behind me in line cut through the parking lot and cut in ahead of the mini bus in front of me, so clearly cutting line resulted in big gains.

If I were dictator of Congo for a day I would institute a mandatory vehicle inspection service with standards equivalent to those in America or another country that doesn't allow cars with non-working turn signals, one door, and no front windshield to operate. A combination of crappy roads and decrepit vehicles does not allow anyone to travel above 40km/hour (I don't even know how much 40km/hour is equal to in miles/hour, but it is not fast). One often gets stuck behind a vehicle that tops out at 5-10 km/hour, no joke. Walking is faster in most cases. There are activists out there that want to fix Congo's insecurity issues, reform the military, stop violence against civilians. I say we start out small: Vehicle Inspections for Everyone!

Woah, It's Been Awhile!

At at Christmas Market with gluehwein.

It's been a long three months in Congo. I was traveling a lot and it has been busy at work. I have been distracted, both good and bad. Sleep still eludes me and hypotheses as to why continue to abound. I am convinced that Kinshasa's location nearly right on the Equator messes with the tidal rhythms, and thus, the mind's ability to know when to sleep and when to be awake. I clearly am just making stuff up at this point, but soon, hopefully, I will get some Ambian, and it will make everything go away for 8 hours each night. Now to a recap of some key events:






Hanging with the chillen's.

• I visited Lubumbashi in southeastern Congo from late November-early December. It was my second trip there, the first was in 2007. A lot has changed--road construction, more restaurants, hotels, and the like--but one thing that hasn't is the much smaller, and less frantic pace compared to Kinshasa. It was nice to get out of the big city and slow down a bit. The weather also is nicer; it is much dryer and a bit cooler in Lubumbashi. It was nice to wear a light cardigan at night, and man, do I love cardigans. I single-handedly keep J Crew in the black, especially during these hard, economic times. 
• I was in Germany for three weeks in December for work, but it was an opportune time because the Christmas markets were in full swing, and that means Gluehwein! Yes, gluehwein, the delicious, warm, spiced wine that comes in a handy souvenir mug to keep one warm as they peruse the markets. It also snowed nearly everyday I was in Germany and we had a white Christmas! Oh, and there's beer in Germany too, so.much.beer.
• I took a quick jaunt down to South Africa for a New Year's safari. It was a great trip, despite my stomach flu, and I saw the big five: rhino, leopard, buffalo, elephant, and lion. The lion siting was barely a siting, but I saw a paw, so I think it still counts.



The National Museum in Lubumbashi

• I traveled to Goma and Bukavu in eastern Congo in February. It was a great trip: ferry rides in Lake Kivu, a sightseeing trip to the outskirts of Bukavu, a run-in with Ben Affleck, and some fun time with the kids at a displaced persons camp. 

My next trip will be to the States in April. I can't wait to go to Target and IHOP!

Autumn in Kinshasa

What?! That's crazy talk. Indeed, because there is no fall in the Congo. There is hot and humid and hotter and more humid. I believe that is the actual technical term for the seasons, but in french (which sounds much fancier) it would be chaud et humide and plus chaud et humide. It is currently the hotter and more humid season in Kinshasa. It rains fairly regularly right now, and I will admit the thunderstorms are pretty awesome. Fun fact: the village of Kifuka in eastern Congo is the site of the most lightning strikes per year. I also like that I can lay by the pool all year round (when it is not raining). I have a great tan right now.

There are, however, some downsides to no Autumn. No leaves changing color. Only palm trees and mango trees and other trees I don't know. No reason to wear sweaters. I really have a fabulous fall/winter wardrobe and my favorite clothing item of all time are opaque black tights, which aren't suitable for the climate here (although tights probably would protect me from the predatory mosquitoes and black flies). No pumpkin things readily available. I love pumpkin things: pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin bread, pumpkin donuts, pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin ale. I could go on. Yes, I can make pumpkin pie, but it's not the same when it's 95 degrees outside. There is no Starbucks in Congo, so a pumpkin spice latte (and man, I am missing the Christmas drinks too, gingerbread latte, yum-o) is just a distant memory.  Football is on at weird times. So, the best thing about AFN is that there is at least live football. But it's a six hour time difference (yes, I will always be able to find something to complain about) so the first game doesn't come on till 7pm on Thanksgiving day. Lame. I am supposed to have stuffed myself with turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and cranberry sauce (the canned kind is the best) by half time and then spend the rest of the day lying on the couch and preparing a game plan for Black Friday. And that leads me to the final nail in the coffin: No Black Friday. I love getting up at 3am to stand in line and talk big game about how I am going to knock people down to get the Dyson pet vacuum as soon as Target opens its doors. It's like a sport, and I love sports and competing. And winning. Now, I am going to have deal with a slow internet connection on Cyber Monday.

*There are no pictures because there is nothing fall to show. *tear*

Afri-Crap

I affectionately call all of the trinkets and things I have collected from nearly 10 years of traveling in Africa, Afri-Crap. This term is shared among several friends and colleagues who also have a shopping addiction and a love of the continent.  I have loads of masks, baskets, statues, elephants, along with one set of unbalanced giraffes and many other random things. My house is full of the stuff, so by default, that has become the theme in most of the rooms.  It's a little weird now that I am living in Congo and my apartment is filled with all of the Afri-Crap I have acquired over the years. I am sure some people think I just bought a bunch of stuff from World Market and Home Goods for my big trip to Africa! Little do they know,  I bargained with a crazy street merchant over $3 for a cock-eyed wooden elephant in Banjul, The Gambia (it's a country, for realz). 

The craft market in Kinshasa is known as the, "Marche des Voleurs," or thieves market. And yes, it is. The price for Afri-Crap in Congo is way above market value. The influx of international NGO's and the giant UN peacekeeping mission here drove the prices for Afri-Crap way up, and coupled with the Congolese penchant for eat today, worry about eating tomorrow, tomorrow, the merchants have no shame and will give you price of $50 for a lopsided wooden okapi.  Usually you can bargain them down to a more reasonable price, but some really tug at your heart strings with lines like, "I guess I won't be eating today," or, "You killed my people" (i.e. so you deserved to be ripped off). The other day at the market I was looking at a handmade doll with a colorful, ruffled dress on. It was not much different than a Cabbage Patch Kid, although it was handmade and therefore had a bit more character perhaps. The merchant said $40, last price. I walked. And he didn't chase me down. Rare. Normally, walking away is enough to get the sellers to lower their prices. Not this time. This guy stuck to his guns, and so did I. Perhaps we both lost. 

I love my Afri-Crap though. And one day, when I get a kid, the kid will have to respect the Afri-Crap because I don't believe in baby-proofing. I mean, I'll put those little plastic covers on the light sockets.

Le Congo Gourmet

This cake is from a bakery in
Pittsburgh. It is filled with strawberries
and delicious buttercream icing.

"If you are afraid of butter, just use cream."

-Julia Childs.

I like to eat, duh. And thinking about what to eat next. And then eating again. You get the picture. I was worried about what I would have to eat when I moved to Kinshasa. I am particular about things, especially ketchup (Heinz only) and oatmeal and cereal. I sent a lot of food in my shipments, just in case. I wouldn't want to waste away. In the first month here, I was pretty impressed with the selection given I had such low standards going in. There are some great things about a tropical climate: mangoes, pineapples, papaya, watermelon are plentiful. (And Francois does an excellent job cutting them all up into fruit salad.) There are lots of vegetables too. There are, however, a lot of downsides. Yes, I am going to point out my complaints. Judge if you will...

This is a salted caramel crepe. I ate
it in Monaco, a tiny principality near
the South of France. It also includes
salted caramel ice cream. Yeah.

• I find the process of walking the five steps to the water distiller and back twice to fill up my sink with water to clean the vegetables annoying. I fill up the sink, drop a capful of Clorox in, and toss in the fruits and vegetables to disinfect. If that wasn't enough, I have to fill up the sink again to rinse the fruit and vegetables. Ugh. 
• The metric system is lame. How much butter is 227 grams? Who knows! Why hasn't the rest of the world realized that sticks of butter with tablespoon markings and a handy guide that says, 1/2 cup = 1 stick and 1/4 cup = 1/2 stick are efficient? The butter stick thing is clearly why America is still on top, despite the fact that we have like a $3 trillion deficit and just elected a bunch of old, white men that don't believe in science to senior positions in state and federal government. 
• I am totally grossed out by the weird Heinz products they sale here. There is this stuff called Andallouisse sauce (I don't even know how to spell it). It's like a creamy, pink color. I don't even know what one would use that for, but I suspect that it is mayonnaise based. Which is a whole, other issue.
• Mayonnaise comes on everything. Cheese sandwich. Ham sandwich. Steak. Toast. Sure, just slather some mayo on. I am not opposed to mayonnaise, or the tangy Miracle Whip. But it has its place, and it is not on french fries. Yes, I know, it's a European thing, and the Euros are so much more evolved and they did invent french fries. I don't care. Unless it's a fancy, gourmet garlic "white" sauce or those delicious mayos at the Good Stuff Eatery (Spike from Top Chef's burger place that was near my apt. in DC), then plain old mayo on fries is unacceptable. It's also unacceptable because it's like 95 degrees here everyday and refrigeration is not reliable. Hellloooo, food poisoning?!
• I cannot find lettuce. Oh, you can find brown, wilted leaves that resemble lettuce. And maybe this makes be a lettuce snob, but I am not eating it, I don't care what you think. There is a rumor that there is good lettuce somewhere in this country, but apparently the people that have experienced this good lettuce have their domestiques get it for them. I don't know if Francois would be able to find it. And he tends to get stressed out easily. I once asked him to buy a mop and it took 2 weeks. Woe is me, I know. 
• There are no preservatives in things. That's probably better for my overall health, but I am used to being able to keep a carrot in the fridge longer than 3 days. Chemicals are in, people!

This delicious treat is the
famous frozen hot chocolate from
Serendipity. I enjoyed this one
in Las Vegas.

In conclusion, I am learning a lot about the metric system (against my will) and alternatives for things, like sour cream (this Lebanese yogurt that smells like rotten ass on its own, but when mixed with other things is passable). I also like the brown eggs right out the chicken's butt. They are totally free range! I bought a yogurt maker on Amazon so I could get my daily dairy requirement without drinking the weird flavored boxed milk. One can buy yogurt here, but it is really expensive and the refrigeration issues has made me think twice about buying it. My yogurt maker is pretty awesome, it has these cute little glass jars. And I use powdered milk, sent from America. I am now a yogurt-making hippie. My co-worker even has perfected a yogurt base that has been passed around the office. 

I made this Bourbon Pumpkin
Cheesecake. It's awesome. It has a
pecan maple crust. And Bourbon.

I also bought an ice cream maker and have nearly perfected Oreo ice cream. I am baking things and using my fancy KitchenAid mixer and my new Cuisinart food processor. It's like all the stuff from a wedding registry without the hassle of picking up someone else's socks. Plus, if I ever do get married, I can register for a honeymoon in the Maldives and not a $30 spatula. I think I'll survive the next two years in Congo, but I won't turn down a package filled with processed crap from America. 

A Little Piece of Paradise (for Congo)

Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black, Cutting through the jungle with a golden track. -Nicholas Vachel Lindsay, The Congo

There was a boat and a river and they took us to Kinshasa's Utopia.  Who knew that just a short jaunt up (down?) the Congo River would turn into a day-cation.  I was skeptical when colleagues spoke of "the sandbar," and "the boat," and "picnics." I was thinking "standing waist deep in a practically drowned sand bar as the river's strong currents whipped me about," and "wooden pirogue with a water-logged engine," and "some pretzels turned stale from the humidity." I was wrong. (Note this occasion because I don't say I'm wrong very often.)  

Looks like a real beach!

The boat was sound and had lots of seats to enjoy the ride out; it's name is Pili Pili, after the hot red pepper sauce that the Congolese put on everything. The sandbar was a nice stretch of beach in the middle of the Congo River. Lovely sand and soft waves lapping against the shore. You can see Brazzaville and Kinshasa from the sandbar, just barely through the hazy, humid sky. We set up a tent and tables and chairs for a picnic, a real one, with potato salad and fruit salad and salt and pepper potato chips (Thank you Amazon!) and a variety of sandwiches. Oh, there was some beer too. There was a cool breeze, a nice change from the stale heat of Kinshasa. And best of all, there were no weird smells! 

A view from the sandbar. It looks
idyllic, right?

The river in this area has a fast current so it is safe to go in (standing or still-ish water in equatorial Africa has lots of things, i.e. parasites like bilharzia, look it up, it's quite horrible). The water is brown, quite brown, but I like to think it's just because the river moves fast and spins up a lot of dirt. You cannot swim out too far because the current will take you, and if you have seen any of those documentary's on Discovery Channel about giant fish in the Congo River, well, bad things could happen, least of all drowning. 

A fishing village near Kinshasa.

After a nice day in the sand and sun, we returned to the port. Past the fishing village shanty towns and getting a whiff of the smells of Kinshasa, in case we forgot that we were in Congo. It's good to know, nonetheless, that there is an escape if you ever need it.

Movin' On Up

I helped unpack some of this stuff.

In a stroke of luck, 2.5 weeks ago, 90 percent of my things arrived. I am patiently waiting for my air shipment, which has been in country longer than I have, but patience...In true Congolese fashion, the deliveries were backward, but alas. My HHE, household effects, arrived on a sunny Kinshasa morning and the nice workers brought everything up to my apartment where my domestique (fancy French word for housekeeper) Francois unpacked while I lounged on the couch shouting directions. Kidding! But I totally bet I could have done just that and gotten away with it. Foreigners can afford to be quite lazy here in Congo because housekeepers, nannies, drivers, gardeners, cooks, etc are cheap for Western standards. You name it, someone will do it for you for a small price.

See the how the countertops
sparkle?!

I mentioned Francois, my housekeeper. He comes twice, sometimes thrice, a week. He's fantastic. He does things I don't like to do, like ironing and dusting. He even does stuff I don't mind doing, like scrubbing the floors and laundry. And it's like magic. I leave in the morning for work and when I come home in the evening the house is sparkling and there is a fresh fruit salad in the fridge. He also is good for finding things I cannot find in the stores here, like a mop. I gave him $10 and he came back with two! Francois helps me with my French, since that's what he speaks, and it's necessary I speak or write notes to him, you know, to tell him to cut the pineapple in uniform chunks and to fluff my pillows daily.

Yes, that's the pool. Beneath
my flower-filled balcony.

I also have a gardener, Landu, who plants lovely flowers on my balconies and in big pots. I got some seeds for him to plant tomatoes and green peppers as well. Landu comes once a week to do some weeding and what not. I honestly don't know what else he does, but all I know is a) the plants are alive b) I don't have to do anything. And that's a good enough justification for his employment for me.

If I have to have a mosquito net in
my bedroom, I deserve a housekeeper.

Lest any readers fear that I will be helpless upon returning to America, fear not. Having house help is not something I could afford in the States, it's purely a Congo thing. But I certainly am taking advantage of it while I am here. I will further justify this luxury by reminding myself and others that being a housekeeper or gardener or nanny is steady job in a country where per capita GDP is $171, yes, there are no zeros after that. And, I still do some things on my own, like get dressed and brush my teeth. So there.