At the Contributions Office

After purchasing the car, I needed to take the bill of sale to the Hotel de Ville, a government office, to have it notarized. The fees were relatively straightforward, $20 for notarization, and $10 for “expedition.” The clerk showed us the official price list, which had $10 expedition listed. I gave him $30 and got a receipt for $20. This is standard procedure. The $10 is his salary.

Let me explain briefly. The government here has almost no money and not a lot of control of most sectors of the country. Clerks in government offices don’t get paid, but they continue to perform their often-essential jobs. It is a system of direct payment by citizens to government workers. I have described the police and soldiers. For example, there are no traffic lights functioning. If you want to make a left turn against traffic, an officer stops traffic and makes that possible in exchange for 100 fc (25 cents). If you want to park on the street, you pay a police officer as you leave in the same way that you would pay a garage attendant. The university for several years operated similarly. When the government stopped paying teachers, a students/parents fund was organized to do so directly. Another example: there is a large pothole in the road near my house. A group of teenagers got shovels and filled it in with dirt. While doing it, and after they were done, they solicited donations from passing motorists. An optional toll in exchange for road repairs, all outside of the scope of the government. It is the closest thing I have seen to anarchy. To the extent that it works, it is a tribute to the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the Congolese people. It is a remarkable and extremely sophisticated system. To the extent that it does not work, the government’s failures are profound and life here is terribly difficult for almost everyone. The road repairs, for example, last until the next rain storm, which, at this time of year, is never more than two days away.

After the Hotel de Ville, I had to take the notarized document to the Contributions Office to get the title transferred and to buy insurance. It is an unusual name for a government office, but it may be appropriate. At the Contributions Office, my friend was able to actually negotiate the cost of the title transfer for me. The possibility never would have occurred to me. The US equivalent is going to the Department of Motor Vehicles, and being told that a license costs $60. You think this is too expensive, so you negotiate and the price is reduced to $50. That is what happened in an official government office with an official picture of the President supervising the entire affair. On my first two attempts to return to the office to pick up the official cards, I was shut down. The first time they weren’t ready, though I got an official receipt. The second time the clerk told me that the office where they were kept was locked. Then she asked me to buy her a soda. I explained that I came there to get two things and since neither of them were available, nobody would be drinking soda today. Still no documents. Finally I had someone from the Embassy call in advance. Voila! On my third (or fourth if you count the initial visit) attempt, the cards were waiting for me.

There is another piece to this story. At the Hotel de Ville, where it began, there was a man there who was very aggressively offering to escort us to the Contributions Office with the notarized bill of sale. It was not clear if he officially worked there plus he was a bit aggressive, so my friend and I were a bit wary. But the help would be good if he could get us seen right away at the Contributions Office. We acquiesced although I don’t know if we really had much of a choice. He did get us in to see a clerk right away (though the office was not very crowded). It took a little bit of time; he stayed with us and we all left together. We dropped the guy off. He got out and started walking away. I was in the front seat, so I assumed my friend had paid him. I asked him and he said no, he hadn’t. He assumed I had. We looked at each other confused. People here are very direct. They will ask for what they want. This guy had spent more than an hour helping us and didn’t expect anything. My friend called him back to the car, asked him if he expected something as a fee. He shrugged his shoulders, I gave him 500 fc, and we both thanked him.