Gates - not Bill

Before we came to Kinshasa, someone who had worked here for a few years used a throwaway line – “it safer than Johannesburg”.

As a professional sceptic I took little notice of the remark. Émigré South Africans tend to knock their own country. Yes, we know that Johannesburg has a high crime rate, but you can deal with it through vigilance, and efficient burglar alarms. Cars all alarmed and are fitted with tracking devices in case they are stolen; houses (like ours) have high walls, electric fences, burglar protection on the windows, and inside burglar alarms.

Coming to Kinshasa with the masses thronging the streets, and the apparent lack of control over everything one could not help feeling apprehensive. Stories of pickpocketing outside shops when one has no free hands and is vulnerably holding multiple bags of shopping don’t help. And at night there are the street children and young men who are, frankly, predatory.

But tell this to a Johannesburger: we walk in pitch darkness along the river and around our house with never a thought that there might be a problem. Little children play in the road as dusk falls with no parent in sight. A friend mistakenly left her computer on the back seat of her car, and was really scared when she realised what she had done. Her driver (who was with her) scoffed at her fear: “they’ll never break into a car when there are so many people around” he said. And we’ve never met anyone whose car has been stolen.

Break-ins? Same story. We have never met anyone whose house has been robbed.

One of the reasons for the domestic security is, of course, the ubiquitous day and night security guards, and the gates.

The gates follow a standard pattern: they are solid, they have a little pedestrian entrance, and they have tiny peepholes through which the guard can see who is on the other side.

This completely anonymous and standard face to the world has its uses. One cannot see what is behind, so for the very rich it disguises their opulence which might be an advantage in times of strife; for the poor, it helps them to pretend that they are rich. One of the pleasures of this secrecy is that behind the bland façade you sometimes find a delightful oasis of lush plants, peace and tranquillity.

An expert security consultant made the point that these huge gates and high walls are no real protection in times of civil strife, but is that the point? For us, behind the gate, we feel as safe as houses.