An outing

It was about time that we took a trip out of Kinshasa. We had heard enthusiastic accounts of the Botanic Gardens (“only an hour or so away”). And, they said “it’s an excellent road”.

So, one Sunday morning we set out. The road, grandly called N1, is the same one used by container trucks from the port of Matadi, so we knew traffic might be a bit slow, but, as we found out, it is also the one used by everyone in the suburbs of Kinshasa to shop, to chat, to buy to sell, to walk, to . . . everything.

After an hour we had gone about 20 kilometres, pushing people out of the road with gentle pushes of the bumper, horn blowing and more, lurching from pothole to pothole. This really didn’t seem like the N1, and it certainly wasn’t the “good road” that we had heard about. We must be lost.

We stop at a petrol station. “No,” he said with a broad smile when I told him we were lost, “you’re right. This is the road.”

To our relief, soon afterwards the town began to melt into scattered little farms and a few roadside kiosks, and before long we were on the open road, in rolling, quite open, countryside. None of the tropical jungle for which the Congo is famed.

From time to time we pass small towns and villages, all characterised by intensive trading activities, lots of heavy container trucks parked at the side, and people everywhere – the road included. From time to time there are speed bumps – viciously sharp ones – and lots of police to make sure that no one does anything wrong.

To our surprise when we are about half way it turns into a toll road. The queue at the toll station is somewhat chaotic, and someone tries to push in front of me, by now second in line. The man in front of me gives him a long lecture about the need to respect other people and take his turn, and he backs away. The fee is not small – about $40, but I take my beautifully printed receipt in duplicate gratefully, and get back to the car as quickly as possible, relieved that another unfamiliar hurdle has been overcome.

The gardens turn out to be majestic. But they are a shadow, we are told, of their former selves as many of the most delightful plants, such as orchids, were looted during the fighting about ten years ago. There is clearly a lack of capacity to maintain the huge area (about 80ha), but this gives it the sense of wilderness which is quite attractive. To one side is a huge river, flowing – as they all seem to do here – very fast. Just inland from the river is the remains of a tiny chapel, remains not unlike those of a Norman castle in Britain, though this cannot be more than 70 years old, and was probably burned down in the looting spree.

The other delight of the gardens is the restaurant which cooks us very nice Congolese food, and some of the best chips we’ve had for years.

At the toll station on the way back there are far more people, and I have the feeling that my place is going to be usurped by the many people pressing behind me, excitedly waving their money to attract the attention of the cashier. I give a little lecture about the need to respect other people and take your turn. It goes completely unheard. But when my turn comes the cashier ignores the several people who have by now pushed in front of me, and demands that he serve me next. Justice is sweet.

The journey is hectic because the road is so narrow that there isn’t room for two vehicles and pedestrians on both sides. Since there are pedestrians almost all the way, the chances of someone getting hurt are huge. But the Congolese rule of the road – the bravest wins – works pretty well, and I position myself near the middle of the road to avoid killing anyone. I have the satisfaction of seeing oncoming traffic slowing down or lurching to the side.

As we enter Kinshasa a huge storm is brewing and it becomes prematurely dark. The storm blows over and the sky is lit by one of the most vivid sunsets we have ever seen.

It’s been a wonderful day, but suddenly and strangely the chaotic streets of Kinshasa feel like home.