Rumble in the Jungle Part Deux

"Last night I had a dream, when I got to Africa, I had one hell of a rumble. I had to beat Tarzan's behind first, for claiming to be King of the Jungle. For this fight, I've wrestled with alligators, I've tussled with a whale. I done handcuffed lightning and throw thunder in jail. You know I'm bad, just last week, I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick. I'm so mean, I make medicine sick. I'm so fast, man, I can run through a hurricane and don't get wet. When George Foreman meets me, he'll pay his debt. I can drown the drink of water, and kill a dead tree. Wait till you see Muhammad Ali."

-Muhammad Ali, 1974

Like Zaire is to Congo, Stadium 20 May is to
Stadium Tata Raphael.

Nearly 36 years to the day of the first Rumble in the Jungle--the famous boxing box between George Foreman and Muhammad Ali that took place in Congo (then Zaire) in 1974--there was nearly another one in the very stadium. I was giving a first-time visitor to Kinshasa a grand tour of the city and his only request was a visit to the scene of one of the most historic matches in history. We commissioned a driver to take us to the stadium (I was not about to navigate on my own to unknown parts of Kinshasa) and we were on our way. It was a smoggy, smoky Friday afternoon...

The fighters' entrance.

Some refurbishment is occurring.

I was excited to see the stadium
myself; right before leaving for Kinshasa I saw the documentary, When We Were Kings, and was interested in seeing how the place looked in 2010 given the Congolese penchant for letting nearly everything in the country decay. I was a little nervous as well because I wanted to grant my visitor's Congo dreams, but knowing how the Congolese feel about such things like taking photographs, entering buildings, and looking around, I gave us only a 50-50 chance of actually getting near the stadium.

I would have paid for one of
these seats!

The depths of the stadium.

As we approached the stadium (if one could call it that) I noticed some light posts and a cracked and crumbling wall. I thought that was as close as we would get, but our driver pulled up to the gates. There were some workers inside doing some renovations and they allowed us to enter. I was stoked! When the workers said we could take pictures I was sure I would have to give up my first born. But I went with it! We wondered around the center of the stadium and then proceeded up to the stands. It was so cool to see where the Rumble in the Jungle happened, but also a bit depressing because the stadium is in terrible shape. The walls are crumbling, many of the seats are ripped out or rusting, and the steps are cracked. There is nothing even hinting that this is the place where Ali beat Foreman in the jungle heat 36 years ago. One gentleman offered to take us inside. How could we resist?! We walked down the steps into the bowels of the stadium, literally, because it reeked of urine. We were unable to enter the locker room (probably because someone is now living there) but we peered down the hallways and went to the stadium's original entrance and ticket lines. And then we found ourselves in a sticky situation...

The entrance gates.

We were admiring the monument of the stadium's namesake, Tata Raphael, when we heard angry shouting from above. Standing on the hallowed building's upper floor were two men demanding to know what we were doing and then requesting, rather brusquely, our presence with the 'chef.' We followed some men upstairs, past a health clinic and a restaurant, and into the office of the 'chef.' Our trusty chauffeur did the talking because my French is mediocre during the best of times. The 'chef's' minions ushered our chauffeur into an office where a discussion occurred. After a good 15 minutes, our presence was requested in front of the 'chef,' AKA Congolese Jesus...

The monument commemorating
Tata Raphael. Also, the moment where
the "authorities" caught us trespassing.

My guest and I entered the bureau where a man was sitting behind a grand desk, the setting sun's glow in the window behind him causing a glorious light halo to envelop his entire body and leaving his face and body to appear only as a dark shadow. Congolese Jesus kindly explained to us that there is a fee for touring the stadium. How else will the government be able to reconstruct this historic landmark if not for the fees acquired from tours? And the Ministry of Sports has printed up a price list for tourists! It is a mere $150 for one person to take the tour and take photos. If you are lucky enough to be part of a tour group, it is only $400. (I dare you to check out Congo tours online. I guarantee there are no double decker red tour buses or cute little Duck tours in Kinshasa.) I thanked Congolese Jesus and promised I would get in touch regarding a tour. We hustled outside, eager to escape the all-knowing gaze of most reasonable man in Congo. Past the clinic, the restaurant, and the squatters now living in the stadiums depths.

The way to Congolese Jesus...

As we were getting into the car, some of the workers came over and thanked us for visiting. A man, I think the foreman, apologized for the misunderstanding with Congolese Jesus and his followers. He lamented neglect of the stadium. He lamented the corruption that perpetuated the neglect of the stadium, and the Congo. We lamented with him and then drove away into the setting sun, Congolese Jesus' glare settling uncomfortably over us.

*Special thanks to J.L. for the pictures and the great company!