Why?

Kinshasa is divided into 26 communes, rather like London is divided into boroughs. The only difference is that Kinshasa – at about 11 million people – is bigger.

No, that’s not the only difference. We’ve just paid a visit to the local government headquarters of one such borough – what we would typically call the Town Hall. This is one of the biggest communes in Kinshasa, with a population of over 500,000. It is near the airport and includes the second largest market in Kinshasa; but its most important asset is many square kilometres of well-watered flat land along the banks of the Congo River, which is, in effect, the market garden of Kinshasa. Everything about its location and population size suggests prosperity.

Let’s then look at the town hall – the seat of the “bourgmestre” the title lower level mayors are given (since the city Kinshasa can only have one mayor). We enter a small compound, directly off the airport road. On the right are a number of rooms, each of which bears the title, in large letters over the door, of their function. We start with the police. Then it is water and sanitation. Then it is sport and recreation. Opposite there is youth and gender, and beyond (the biggest one) is finance. As we pass these “departments” we see that most consist of only one or two rooms. All are dark, and a silent generator sitting beside a stripped-out electrical board testifies to the fact that nothing works. At the end is a small hall where citizens, sitting on white plastic chairs, are waiting patiently for something to begin. 

We are ushered to the bourgmestre’s office located upstairs in the sole two storey building. The stairs are tiled, but many tiles are broken or missing, and the stair itself has a thick layer of a sandy dust. So thick indeed that the patterns on the tiles cannot be seen. The walls are disgustingly grubby.

First, as protocol requires we go to the deputy bourgmestre’s office. A small TV is playing the local news – obviously he has an electrical source that others do not. By way of introduction he explains the potential of the commune, but emphasises the poverty of the people.

Then we are introduced to the bourgmestre who says much the same, and welcomes our support.

We are too polite to ask about the obvious lack of care for the premises. We are too polite to ask where the money goes: they have several good sources (though . . . all the receipts from the market (big bucks) go directly to the Kabila family). And we are too polite to ask what everyone does all day in offices that are without power and too dark to even read. We leave wondering what impact we can have in such situations.

There’s one unusual feature in the situation: the bourgmestre is a woman, and as her card proudly proclaims she is also a Reverend. Will this make any difference? Don’t hold your breath.

Another day in Kinshasa . . .

Going to work my driver said “Look at those soldiers: what are they doing? That’s not normal.” We were driving along a featureless road, featureless apart from the fact that at the end is a barrier manned by soldiers, and beyond the barrier is the no man’s land surrounding the President’s office. Less that 100 metres from this no man’s land is a huge, badly designed house that is our office.

Five minutes later, I hear the boss talking very loudly on his phone. He rushes into my office: “They’ve arrested Jean-Paul (not his real name) who was walking to the office from the hotel. The Presidential Guard have stopped him and won’t release him.” These were the very same soldiers we had seen earlier.

Our office Manager, Maria (not her real name either) is sent to intercede, and fifteen minutes later Jean-Paul is back. Obviously growling internally, but trying hard to keep calm.

He said they had demanded to see his passport, and insisted that he empty his backpack onto the grass verge. They appeared to have no idea what they were doing, but everyone assumes that they were expecting a payoff, which Maria’s negotiations had eliminated.

Later that morning we go with our political and economic advisor, a famous Belgian expert whose influence and tentacles in the DRC are world-famous, to brief senior USAID and Embassy staff on the political situation. Even though their office is near the station in an area considered quite dodgy, USAID have stuck it out through thick and thin.

The briefing is about how the current government is deeply divided, and characterised by fear. Everyone, both within the inner political circle and the country as a whole, is conscious of the build up of tension due to the decline in the economy and deeply held ethnic enmities. Kabila’s efforts to hang onto power are only succeeding due to a divided, weak opposition and the savage repression of any protest. There’s a fin de siècle feel, which parallels the end of Mobutu’s reign.

It is a disturbing presentation, and undoubtedly authentic. We leave feeling nervous about the future.

We decide to have lunch at a nearby restaurant that specialises in quick service. It’s a bizarre place, decorated as a Belgian cottage, but serves relatively normal food.

We’re ending the meal when the boss has a phone call. “There’s trouble in the Avenue du Commerce. Shops in the centre are putting down their shutters. Just be careful,” (The Avenue du Commerce is a highly congested mad mad street usually thronged with dodgy, hassling hawkers: it’s about four blocks from the restaurant).

A few minutes later, Maria calls. “There’s an emergency in town. They say there’s been another prison break out. Banks are sending their staff home early.”

The boss promises to deal with the situation when we are back in the office.

Ten minutes later, as we are about to have dessert, Maria calls again. “The Presidential Guard are going to close the whole area around the office at 3 p.m. so if you are not back by then you will not be allowed to get back to the office.”

We rush back, reflecting on the paranoia that requires a lock down, and are in the office by a quarter to three. Maria is dangling the office keys, and getting ready to leave.

“Are you scared?” I ask.

“I was born in war, brought up in war, and have lived through war,” she said. “Scared? Of course not.”

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Here’s the official report we received:

• Incident: Armed attack
• Location: Central market, Kinshasa
• Time/Date: 1400 July 14
• Fatalities (Injuries): 2 (Unknown)

Summary
A group of unidentified assailants armed with machetes, knives, and firearms attacked Kinshasa's central market July 14, leaving at least the market's manager and one of her bodyguards dead. The incident took place at about 1400, causing panic and prompting a number of businesses at the facility to close. Authorities have not released any information concerning any further casualties.

While police and military troops have restored order and secured the scene, heightened security will likely remain deployed in the vicinity of the market for at least the next 24 hours. No group has claimed responsibility for the attack, but authorities believe the perpetrators were regular bandits operating in the DRC capital.