Democratic Republic of the Congo

July 8–10, 2013

The Democratic Republic of the Congo shouldn’t be confused with the Republic of the Congo.

The «spirit of death» is packed with people. One person is selling baguettes, another is carrying a rolled-up mattress. The van has broken down; it’s being pushed down the road by the presidents: Kasa-Vubu, Mobutu, Kabila Sr., and Kabila Jr. This is the DR Congo in a nutshell. This scene perfectly summarizes life in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Since this is Africa, every more or less important building (i.e. hotel, government agency, restaurant, office) has security guards sitting outside. They all look bored to death. Sometimes you get the impression that they’ve invited five of their friends to sit around and be bored with them.

A DR Congo license plate. The letters and numbers are like the ones in Europe—they have a unique shape which makes it possible to read the plate even if only the top or bottom is visible.

Pedestrian crossing ahead.

Ta-da! The pedestrian crossing.

Children. All grown up already.

A kilometer marker.

A steam locomotive.

The numbers on speed limit signs are green for some reason.

It’s fascinating to watch how some people talk on their cellphones when they think the other person can’t hear them very well. Right into the microphone.

Cargo vans repurposed to carry passengers are the main form of public transportation. There are no hard and fast rules when it comes to making the windows—creativity abounds.

The rear windows tend to be particularly pretty.

Almost all the vans are Mercedes 207s. Crammed full of passengers, they careen down the streets at breakneck speeds, and it’s impossible to ride one without a certain feeling of fatalism. The people call these vans «the spirit of death» (l’esprit de mort). The spirits of death are usually painted the colors of the Ukrainian flag or white.

The buses feel somewhat safer in comparison.

I was fairly certain that I knew all the major species of animals, but it turns out that the DR Congo has something called an okapi—sort of a cross between a zebra and a giraffe. Here’s a stuffed one that someone threw out:

And this is what okapis look like in real life:

If you want to sit down and have a civilized meal, this is where you can go. Everything is blue here, from the chairs to the palm tree trunks.

Guests are served baked fish wrapped in banana leaves.

And maggots.

Let’s see what life in a village looks like.

A white person is called mundele here. As you walk down the street, you hear «Mundele, mundele!» coming from all sides. It’s a major event. People in the city find you somewhat less astonishing.

The pyramid in the background is bags of coal. There’s grain being sold in the foreground, and foosball tables in the middle.

Fishermen returning with their catch.

A new bridge is being built. Most of the people in the photo are idly gawking.

The Congolese have a fantastic custom of making uniforms for celebrations. Whenever there’s a birthday or wedding, the organizer of the festivities goes to the market and buys a liputa, from which she then sews a maputa for each guest. Now it’s immediately obvious that the group is celebrating together.

There are currency exchanges on every corner.

But the prize for most ubiquitous establishment in the DR Congo goes to pharmacies. The number of pharmacies is simply unbelievable—there’s one in every third building.

And every pharmacy has an image of a snake coiled around a cup, just like in Russia.

Kinshasa

A fairly nice city.

With a lively downtown area.

The capital’s traffic lights.

A street trash can.

Garbage collection.

A bus stop sign (identical to the ones in Pakistan, which is surprising).

A bus shelter. It’s illuminated at night and has a bench that runs along its entire inside perimeter.

City life.

A casino.

Fruit vendors.

A street sign.

A UN office.

A parking lot in front of a supermarket.

The front lawn of an art school, where young sculptors exhibit their works. For example, here’s one titled «Man Beating His Wife.»

And here, lying next to some museum, is a defenseless statue of Congo explorer Henry Stanley. For some reason, his feet were broken off in one of the recent episodes of civil unrest (compare to Iraq and Iran).

In order to paint an objective picture of the city for our readers, let’s venture beyond the downtown area as well.

The traffic lights here are simpler.

Commerce is more active.

The visual backdrop is denser.

The soil is closer.

The prices are more reasonable.

* * *

The main tool used by traffic police in the DR Congo is a stick with nails. They put it down on the ground to force drivers to stop.

You can also get a souvenir made from the same materials to take home with you.