Arriving in Congo for the First Time

Debarking the plane at the airport in Kinshasa spilled us onto the tarmac. The sun was hot here, just south of the equator. The concrete was brown with oil and grease. I wondered if it was sticking to the bottom of my sandals. We followed the other passengers toward a building marked “Aeroport de Ndjili.” We formed two lines at the doors. Uniformed officer were reviewing passports and yellow cards. Unlike the States, diseases like malaria, yellow fever, and typhoid are realistic dangers. We had to show that we had taken precautions. They handed our papers back and stepped aside to allow us up the three steps into the building. Inside out of the sun, we stood in a second line in front of what looked like an old-fashioned theater box office, wooden with a plate of glass and a slot for papers (and cash, if it came to that). Behind it were the immigration officers. At that point, the first set of officers seemed to have no clear purpose, quite unnecessary in fact.

My dad’s first piece of advice to me before we left the States was “Be ready to flex and punt.” In Congo, standards and protocol are ad hoc. Authorities are ad hoc. Roads are ad hoc. Plans are ad hoc. Meals are ad hoc. In that sense, Congo was a bit like college. Actually, a bit like being a bachelor too.

The immigration officer questioned me in French, and I muddled through as best I could. “Stupid American” can be quite useful when used appropriately. Traveling through the country in a week’s time required showing my passport to four or five more authorities. Each time I simply shrugged when they interrogated me en Francais. Not wanting to hassle with my stupidity, they signed the papers and let me on my way. It was for the best.

Before I knew it, two Africans were directing us past the baggage claim. I’d been informed ahead of time that we would need them in order to get our luggage without much hassle. Men stand around soliciting ad hoc employment from arriving travelers. For a fee. No uniforms. No organization. No corporate structure. No management. Each is his own employer.

They led us around to a door. Locked. They turned and appealed to the apparent gatekeeper nearby—the current “authority.” At the same moment, a third African appeared holding a piece of notebook paper. My last name was scribbled on it in large letters. That was enough validation for us. This was our prearranged contact. We simply hadn’t known that. When Pascal showed up, our two interceptors knew they were out of business. But they wouldn’t give up without making Pascal’s job more difficult. They harassed him for the next hour while we retrieved our luggage. They shouted and gestured, burned and sweated.

The baggage claim would’ve been a pretty sedate place—that is, like most baggage claims—without these vultures. I wondered, Who in the world decided one day, “I think I’ll go to the airport today and help people do something they could manage to do themselves but I’ll charge them exorbitant fees to let me do it for them”? Whoever he was, he’d created a monster. This was the first business venture I saw in Congo.

After our first run-in with the police, we drove from the airport to our hostel. I got my first glimpses of Congo’s capital city, Kinshasa. There was trash everywhere. It was like living downwind from a landfill. I also saw a second business venture: public transit, ad hoc. While carpooling may be trendy transport in the U.S., it is a way of life in Congo. Nonetheless, the congestion and pollution in Kinshasa were stifling. Much more than suburban Chicago. Volkswagen Buses from 40 years ago and foreign subcompacts serve as much of the city’s public transportation. I estimated in one VW Bus to be carrying 18 passengers in four rows behind the driver. In the back of every Nissan, there were at least 3 passengers. Only once did I see a vehicle with only one person in it, a few with two, most with five, six, or thirty. I doubt that’s an exaggeration.

A day later we walked to a nearby market. There, I saw a traffic jam. Subcompacts were backed up for half a block. The drivers stood next to their driver’s side doors shouting at one another. At the front of the jam, two or three drivers seemed to be arguing with one another over what must’ve been a fender bender. I stood watching the exchange. I was surprised at the vitality of it. Every car in Kinshasa had its fair share of scrapes and dents.

“That’s a taxi rendezvous point,” one of my companions said, pointing at the traffic snarl. “This is a hub. The drivers pick people up and bring them here. Then the passengers switch to cars heading toward their destinations.”

I looked again. The chaos took on a new dimension. It was a taxi hub. Instead of arguing drivers, I saw a manager directing passengers and coordinating cars and drivers. People were constantly shuffling and moving, climbing into and exiting cars. Mass confusion was actually a highly developed and somewhat efficient taxi system. (Again, ad hoc.)

There are few sidewalks in Kinshasa. The city is lucky just to have paved streets. Kinshasa is probably the only place in the whole country to have them. For this reason, foot traffic and vendors clutter the streets and dart in and out of traffic. The mechanics shop is wherever the truck, bus, or car breaks down. And that may be the inside lane. Cars whiz past beeping exhausted horns at endangered pedestrians while mechanics fix flats, troubleshoot engine problems, and fill empty oil pans and radiators. Neither the oil nor the water will last long in those engines. They will either burn off or drip out over the next few days. Then, they will be refilled. Every driver is a mechanic, finding and fixing whatever the current problem is. The Congo probably has more mechanics than it has running vehicles.

Return from DRC

Our group returned to the United States on Monday the 22nd of September. Today is our second day back and we are continuing to assimilate back physically, mentally and culturally.
The demand of the work schedule has a way of driving that assimilation.

We come back with an array of thoughts that need to be sorted and sifted through. Many need to be captured before they are lost. I will post some of those thoughts for the purpose of record and for the benefit of those interested in this blog.

Congo Trip 2008 - Itinerary

The group includes Stan Graber, Brad Graber, Adam Graber and David Rocke. We will meet up with Dr. John Martin in Kinshasa and travel together to Ndjoka Punda and on to Tshikapa where John Martin will remain following our departure for the States.

Thursday September 11, 2008, 9:15 p.m. flight from Chicago O'Hare to Washington Dulles Airport.

Friday September 12, 2008, 10:05 a.m. flight to Addis Ababa Ethiopia via Rome Italy.

Saturday September 13, 2008, 12:50 p.m. arrive in Kinshasa-Democratic Republic of Congo.

Sunday & Monday September 14 & 15, 2008 in Kinshasa, activities will include attending church, laptop computer setup for the hospital at Ndjoka Punda, purchase of autoclave for the hospital, trip to a local hardware store and purchase of phone minutes.

Tuesday September 16, 2008 MAF (Missionary Aviation Fellowship) flight to Ndjoka Punda via a Cessna 9 passenger plane.

Wednesday September 17, 2008, Ndjoka Punda

Thursday September 18, 2008, MAF flight

Friday September 19,2008, Tshikapa, anticipate a trip to the Lubilu Forest where the sawmill operation is.

Saturday September 20, 2008, MAF flight back to Kinshasa (which will be too soon for several African mish kids!)

Sunday September 21, 2008, 1:40 p.m. depart for the United States

Monday September 22, 2008, 1:27 p.m. arrive at Chicago O'Hare and go our separate ways.

First Annual Ndjoka Punda Youth Camp

The first annual Youth Camp organized by Dr. David Ishingu, resident medical doctor for the Ndjoka Punda hospital, was held April 16-22, 2007.

675 youth attended the conference. Dr. David invited 10 speakers, both pastors and doctors, to participate.

His vision is a "rebirth of our community at every level." He began by establishing a large intercession group made up of 18 youth.

Dr. David has reported that on the last day of the second annual Youth Camp around 1400 youth were present. Many were led to commitment to Christ, or renewal of their commitment.

Continue to pray for Dr. David and the Ndjoka Punda community. In his words, "please pray for us because we are being threatened by the Enemy."