Scribbles from Congo : Day One of 30…. ish.

Originally written on Saturday, October 30, 2010

….or, that at least is the intention…..

I have been here in Pointe Noire since May this year and, as regular readers recognise, I have been plodding my way, inexpertly around Africa for a touch over five years now. Libya, Madagascar, Swaziland, Zambia, South Africa, Gabon and now the Republic of Congo with a quick skip across the Congo River to the Democratic Republic of Congo, sometimes known as DRC or Congo Kinshasa.

For now, I have decided that I will keep a one month diary. And why not start now… ?

Monday is the 1st of November and here in the Republic of Congo it is a National Holiday. All Saints day. A variation, I think, of Hallo’een, which as you know, celebrates, if that is the word I want, ghouls and ghosts, witches and demons that are said to haunt the land with chilly fingers which reach out to you as you climb the wooden hill.

So, this seems like as good as time as any to start a month if idle scribbling. I’m not going to limit myself to Congo, moreover I will spend one month scribble any old inane rubbish that I can think of to fill a page or two. There maybe pictures.

So, today, or this weekend, is, er, day one. Monday may very well be day two…. We will see. So, as a taster, a brief history of the area.

First of all, the are two Congo’s. To south of where I am, is the Democratic Republic of Congo, the capital being Kinshasa. Kinshasa is a city of around 10 to 12 million people; it varies depending on who is counting… It is pretty big. And busy. Oh jiminey cricket, it is busy. There are some who claim the I-‘phone is an excellent mobile ‘phone. They are wrong. There are those who say the French make great cheese. They too are wrong. And there are those that say that New York, America, is a 24 hour city, as intimated by Woody Allen as the credits roll at the beginning of that fantastic film, Manhattan. When compared to Kinshasa, they too, are wrong.

Kinshasa is the capital of DRC, which is E N O R M O U S. I mean, really. Enormous. You just won’t believe how vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big it is. There is no point quoting statistic because I don’t have any and I can’t really be bothered to look them up, but, as a comparison, DRC is the size of Europe.

End to end, across the longest axis, the DRC is about the same as the straight line distance from London to St Petersburg in Russia. Quite a trip! Oh, and historically, DRC used to be known as Zaire and, astonishingly, represented about 97% of the Belgian Empire; the other 3% being a small coffee shop just north of Utrecht.

By comparison, the Republic of Congo is much more discrete, much smaller, more reserved; a country with around 4 million people, most split between the capital Brazzaville and, the location of your correspondent, Pointe Noire.

Interestingly, Kinshasa and Brazzaville, separated by the majestic Congo River, are the closest two Capital cities in the world. You can see one from the other and easiest way is to cross the river by speed boat. Actually, boat is the only way; there are no bridges. 

The Republic of Congo, known as Congo B’ was part of the Francophone collective along the west African coast, and includes Gabon, Benin, Togo and one or two in north east, such as Senegal and Ivory Coast.

In recent history, there was of course the civil war here, and some pretty disgusting excursions with their neighbours across the water, but these days, life in Congo B’ and Pointe Noire is relaxed.

Life is driven by the oil industry, which brings in nearly all of Congo B’s money. Like most countries in this part of Africa, there are noticeable oil reserves, which means significant income for the Government.

Except…. there are no other exports from Congo B’, which means that everything else, everything else is imported. Everything. including bottled water from our gallic cousins. Oh yes, they not only have managed to persuade the English that french bottled water is good, but they have done the same to large parts of west Africa. I mean, really, bottled water 6000 miles from the puddle it came from……

There are two or three things that stand out for me when I think about my life here in Pointe Noire. Expensive is one. Certainly. And that is because of the massive amount of import duty that the Government extort. And why not, after all it is easier to ‘tax’ than it is to actually do things. 

The other thing that stands out for me here, as it does in some other parts of the west of this massive continent, is, how shall we say, relaxed it is. There is no hurrying anything here. There is no rushing. And very little forward planning and thinking ahead.

The airport in Pointe Noire, as you can see from the image here,  typifies this for me and looks like more like a scrap yard of forgotten aeroplanes, rather than the western hub for traffic between Congo B’, DRC and Gabon. There is no security, nobody guiding you to the correct ‘plane, nobody making sure you do not get in the way of something, like, oh, a taxing DHL cargo ‘plane; the only guide I had was a seasoned Congolese I met who agreed, yes, may be it could work a little better, but….. it does work now.

This image, despite the tag, was taken in July of this year. There were three flights leaving at similar times, and, it was not until I was actually on the ‘plane that I was really certain that I was actually on the correct flight.

Incidentally, the large ‘plan on the left was a third hand, Russian built Libyan Gov’ cargo ‘plane. It deposits aid in various parts of Africa, and spreads ‘development’ in conjunction with LAICO, the Libyan African Investment Company, Gaddaffi’s personal pension plan which includes a small hotel chain based on the Hilton model of high prices, standard rooms but a solid brand. Never really understood the lure of Hilton….. but I hate hotels anyway.

So, that wraps up my day one summary. Complaints to the usual address….