“The President is Sleeping. You’ll Wake Him Up.”
On Saturday night, I went to a reception for some journalists which was at the home of an American diplomat, located in the extremely tony and unfamiliar neighborhoods of downtown Kinshasa. His house overlooks the river, which is amazing, and the program was nice. To get to the house, you need to go through a Presidential Guard, which can pose serious problems though Saturday was fine, because there was a US security officer there with a guest list.
As we were leaving these unfamiliar parts, we came up on another roadblock and an encampment of five hungry soldiers with machineguns. We got stopped. They detained the driver, just to empty out his wallet, and somehow got the keys to the car. Actually, even though I am unfamiliar with this area, I did recognize one of the buildings as a US residence. And there was a security guard there who came out to the street, and observed. He did not intervene, but the soldiers knew they were being watched. While they were talking to the driver, I spoke to the security officer--introduced myself, showed him my identification, asked where I was, and otherwise made small talk. The soldiers kept the driver for about 30 minutes. The driver came back to the car; I got in and thought we were going to leave. But they still had the key. A soldier said, OK you can leave, just give us some money to get something to eat. I gave him something. Without looking at it, he asked me how much it was. “350” I replied. “350 what?” “350 francs” (less than $1). “What can I eat for 350 francs?” Some pondu (manioc leaves), some good fufu, even a piece of fish. But I don’t think he was looking for dining suggestions. So, then he asked for a $100, but I did not laugh at him. I explained, again, that I was a professor, that I am not especially wealthy (though compared to him I am), that I am in Kinshasa teaching Congolese students, and that I don’t live in the (rich) area (although where I live is extremely comfortable). He explained to me that they were not just regular police, but the Presidential Guard, and that the President was asleep and that I might wake him up. He then asked if we had anything to drink.
At this point, it had been more than 30 minutes. They had the keys, so I got out of the car again. I decided to call for someone to work this out. They told me to shut off my phone--which I didn’t do (though I didn’t make the call then). Then they took the driver away again, and, I later learned, threatened to beat him up. I got out of the car, and I called for some assistance. The soldiers came over and told me to put the phone away; I ignored them. And after about 3 or 4 minutes, they let us go. Nobody had to come. I knew that they emptied my driver’s wallet and was relieved that he wisely only had 1,000 fc in it. The encounter was, by all accounts, extremely mild to what folks experienced under Mobutu. The driver and my friend, who I was on my way to pick up (and who found himself waiting a bit longer than expected), were laughing and talking about how much better things have gotten. Under Mobutu, the driver would have been taken to jail, probably held for ransom. Nowadays, that is less common.
Thankfully thankfully thankfully my friend and I were on our way to a terrasse to have a drink. After the encounter, I wanted the beers a bit too much. I drank 2 Skols (beers that come in large 72 cl bottles, the size of 2-3 US bottles) quickly, and woke up Sunday morning with a headache. But, I realized, episodes like that can make a person drink. I suspect the soldiers realized it as well.
As we were leaving these unfamiliar parts, we came up on another roadblock and an encampment of five hungry soldiers with machineguns. We got stopped. They detained the driver, just to empty out his wallet, and somehow got the keys to the car. Actually, even though I am unfamiliar with this area, I did recognize one of the buildings as a US residence. And there was a security guard there who came out to the street, and observed. He did not intervene, but the soldiers knew they were being watched. While they were talking to the driver, I spoke to the security officer--introduced myself, showed him my identification, asked where I was, and otherwise made small talk. The soldiers kept the driver for about 30 minutes. The driver came back to the car; I got in and thought we were going to leave. But they still had the key. A soldier said, OK you can leave, just give us some money to get something to eat. I gave him something. Without looking at it, he asked me how much it was. “350” I replied. “350 what?” “350 francs” (less than $1). “What can I eat for 350 francs?” Some pondu (manioc leaves), some good fufu, even a piece of fish. But I don’t think he was looking for dining suggestions. So, then he asked for a $100, but I did not laugh at him. I explained, again, that I was a professor, that I am not especially wealthy (though compared to him I am), that I am in Kinshasa teaching Congolese students, and that I don’t live in the (rich) area (although where I live is extremely comfortable). He explained to me that they were not just regular police, but the Presidential Guard, and that the President was asleep and that I might wake him up. He then asked if we had anything to drink.
At this point, it had been more than 30 minutes. They had the keys, so I got out of the car again. I decided to call for someone to work this out. They told me to shut off my phone--which I didn’t do (though I didn’t make the call then). Then they took the driver away again, and, I later learned, threatened to beat him up. I got out of the car, and I called for some assistance. The soldiers came over and told me to put the phone away; I ignored them. And after about 3 or 4 minutes, they let us go. Nobody had to come. I knew that they emptied my driver’s wallet and was relieved that he wisely only had 1,000 fc in it. The encounter was, by all accounts, extremely mild to what folks experienced under Mobutu. The driver and my friend, who I was on my way to pick up (and who found himself waiting a bit longer than expected), were laughing and talking about how much better things have gotten. Under Mobutu, the driver would have been taken to jail, probably held for ransom. Nowadays, that is less common.
Thankfully thankfully thankfully my friend and I were on our way to a terrasse to have a drink. After the encounter, I wanted the beers a bit too much. I drank 2 Skols (beers that come in large 72 cl bottles, the size of 2-3 US bottles) quickly, and woke up Sunday morning with a headache. But, I realized, episodes like that can make a person drink. I suspect the soldiers realized it as well.
posted by irad at 10:18 AM
2 Comments:
Hello, my dear friend Dr. Ira.
I have not had a chance, or should I say quality tim eti sit at my pc and be enlightend by your witty writing episodes. From this insight, now I do understand why peopl ein the Congo drink so much; I thought they di dbinge to quench the thirst brought about by that dehydraitby heat, but....... now I see it is a form of a tranquilizing sedative.
KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK.
Gus
Thanks for your comment--beer is also one of the least expensive beverages, no small consideration with limited drinkable water. It costs less to buy a bottle of beer than a bottle of water.
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