A curious afternoon

Episode 1: A Pearl in a sow’s ear

It was just as well as we had taken a lift to lunch as we would never have found it. Our route took us along the dilapidated road used by heavy trucks coming into Kinshasa from the airport. It’s not a pretty one – semi derelict factories, grubby kiosks, litter. Here and there a newly painted wall speaks of optimism.

Our friends know this area well and think they know exactly where to turn. So does the driver. “Here it is,” he says, as he edges into a narrow turning between two factory walls. A vast pothole covers more than half of it. “We’ve gone wrong,” says the wife, “we should have taken the other turning”. So we turn round. The previous road leads to a factory and seems to match the directions given by our hostess. A few workers are wandering in and out of the entrance. “Oh yes,” they say, “there are houses inside”. We look at the overgrown yard and shudder. Time to phone the hostess to get the directions again.

She explained the turning again, and we realise that we were probably right the first time. As we drive along we have a sense of ever-rising disbelief. Can this really be right? It is lined with little shacks nestling in piles of garbage. Behind the shacks are factories – mostly deserted ones. We come to the end of the road. Even the driver is getting scared and keeps muttering about how this must be the wrong road. We are at the point of giving up when we notice a small road going down the hill. “Go that way,” says our guide excitedly, “that’s how she described it”. This leads past shacks which are even more grotty, surrounded by even higher heaps of rubbish until voila there’s a very wide rusty gate, on which are written the names of two enterprises: one making reinforcing bars, and one plastic pipes. Our destination.

We enter this strange compound. All around are huge derelict looking warehouses and workshops. Between the sheds is waist high grass and mechanical graveyards of rusty machine parts, railway wheels, engines and much else besides. If we didn’t know that our hostess was a wealthy woman with houses in Canada, Tanzania, Kenya and Dubai we might have turned round there and then. But amazingly the track ends at a delightful colonnaded single storey house sitting in a beautiful tropical jungle of a garden. At the entrance there two white clad waiters, welcoming us with a nice smile.

Episode 2: Presidential wobbles

We were tucking in to our first course when the Brazilian Ambassador’s phone rang. Two minutes later the Indian Ambassador’s phone rang too. They both had received the same information. Seven armed rebels had climbed over the wall of the Swiss Ambassador’s house (“Oh my God,” shrieks our hostess, “he was supposed to have been here too, but left a few days ago.”) and had attacked the adjacent property which is the official residence of the President. The rebels had all been shot.

The phones rang at regular intervals as more news trickled in. Some fighting had taken place near the Parliament Building, and around the government owned TV station. A military camp had been attacked – they thought they had been trying to raid the armoury. Tanks were driving down the main streets. Road blocks had been set up by the military. The area around the Grand Hotel (where the President’s house is) had been blocked off. Our host phoned his contacts at the airport – all seemed quiet there.

While this was going on the Indian Ambassador had organized his own security staff to meet him at the UN army depot close by, and had left in a great hurry.

Luckily, the Brazilian Ambassador had two bodyguards with him. He said he would bring in another car with two more bodyguards, together with heavy arms. So it was that within an hour we had organised a convoy. The Brazilian Ambassador and his two henchmen, all with bullet-proof vests in the front car – flying the flag and driving very fast. Then us, then another Brazilian Embassy car, with two more bodyguards (“aren’t they gorgeous?” remarked she who must be obeyed) and our host and hostess, finally the host’s car driver by a chauffeur. The plan was to go to the Brazilian Embassy which was well protected, and assess the situation from there.

As he welcomed us the Ambassador said he had food and water for five days, beds and everything we might need. But as an environment it was not ideal – very hot and dark inside – and we decided the best thing was to get home as soon as possible. He agreed to take us home in embassy cars, but first his security people should look around and assess the risk. They returned after half an hour to confirm that the coast was clear, but said they would accompany us home.

The streets were deathly quiet. The gates to the river port to Brazzaville were locked, and the supermarkets firmly closed. There was not a single policeman in sight. We passed two tanks and a few groups of soldiers. At home, the gate was locked and the guards had taken refuge out of sight of the road. That evening they hid behind the huge anti-riot steel door in the entrance to the flats.

In itself, the event was, to me, pleasantly thrilling, and a small object lesson. It made one realise how important it is to be prepared for the BIG ONE, which can happen at any time. Being prepared includes having enough airtime for cell phones, fuel for the car, food at home, money. Was it scary? – not for a second.

But for our host, who had lived through all the looting of the 1990s and other disturbances, it was truly terrifying. On hearing the news, he began to tremble and sweat profusely. He was gulping alcohol to calm his nerves. He hardly knew what language he was speaking. But he said he was not scared for himself, but for his wife. They had to get out immediately. They hurriedly packed overnight bags before leaving the house and stayed behind in the Brazilian Embassy, he making plans to evacuate her the next morning. The friend we had gone with was affected similarly. His cool machismo vanished as he thought about the terrible things that could happen, and he too started to panic. Clearly, their experiences had been truly terrifying.

So what had actually happened? It was, according to the government, an attempted coup. Pretty half hearted, if you ask me. Or maybe just an excuse to introduce a state of emergency?