Arriving in Basankusu, Democratic Republic of Congo (December 2014)

I arrived in the Democratic Republic of Congo safe and well. Chasing paperwork for my long-term missionary visa and Congolese driving licence took a few days and direct flights to Basankusu were hit and miss (in the end turning out to be miss). Eventually I secured a flight to Mbandaka - on the River Congo, at the Equator - the capital of Equateur Province - with the intention of travelling the rest of the journey by canoe (with an outboard engine).

The day of the flight, the President of the Congo decided to give a speech and, as a result, half of the major routes through Kinshasa were closed. The potholes - the flooding - the traffic-jams ... we eventually made it to the airport with only minutes to spare.

Then we waited four hours before being told that the flight had been cancelled. There was almost a riot. We travelled back in shared taxis - each taxi has a route like a bus service ... and as many people as possible share the ride, sometimes two to a seat. Four taxi rides got me home. The flight was rescheduled to fly two days later and I arrived in Mbandaka after a flight of one hour. I stayed one night at a convent and the local Caritas group arranged for someone to cook a meal for me. They also sent someone to help me buy bread, tinned sardines and water for my river journey.

My journey along the River Congo began at five in the morning; I put my two suitcases and cabin bag - containing my computer and other delicate electrical things - into what looked like a very flimsy canoe. It was less than a metre wide - just wide enough to fit a wooden chair - and sides that looked far too close to the water. Safety features, such as lights, lifejackets, and so on, didn't enter the equation. I was apprehensive, to say the least.

Once I'd made sure that my bags were installed and covered with a plastic sheet, we set off. There were six of us including the driver and navigator. The River Congo is one of the world's biggest rivers - 30 miles wide in places, with numerous islands. Unfortunately, the 40 horsepower engine I'd been promised - and which would get us there in a day - needed some attention; we had to make do with a 15 horsepower engine, which would take ... 25 hours.

We had perfect conditions on the river: the morning started out fairly cool and I needed to put on my full waterproofs to keep warm, but before long it had heated up into the 30s. It didn't rain at all - and this had been my main worry because of my worries about my laptop.

We passed lots of people who were out for a day’s fishing in their canoes. Even children know how to handle a boat and could be seen standing up to manoeuver the canoe with a single paddle, a younger brother or sister sitting in the bow and waving across to us. The river lets sound carry easily across it and we could say hello to people as we passed. What was surprising to me was that even ten miles from Mbandaka people could still be seen talking on their phones, before the signal finally petered out.

As we entered the branch of the River Congo that would take us to Basankusu, the River Lulonga, a soldier stepped forward on the riverbank. He attempted to flag us down – our driver ignored him. Then I heard some earnest chatter from the driver and navigator and realised that we’d attracted attention. The soldier had a gun, of course, and I thought it would be just my luck to get shot before I arrived. A canoe was launched, one with a better outboard engine than ours, and within a few minutes the local authorities had come alongside. They were annoyed that we hadn’t stopped to declare ourselves – but after a few minutes became friendly and let us go. Being an obvious foreigner, I was probably the cause of their attention. Often, there can be so-called ‘fees’ or ‘taxes’ to pay … but on this occasion they let us go without charge.

The first ten hours were tolerable. As night fell, the inability to sleep in any comfortable position became apparent to all on board. The two feet of leg room in front of my chair served as a bed, with my head on the wooden seat and my legs twisted various ways to fit into the space.

At one point, perhaps a hundred miles from any habitation and in the middle of the river, I was awoken from my shallow sleep by the navigator’s shouts of “Yip! Yip! Yip!” I looked up to see us passing at speed into long river grass. We had run aground on an island formed by the grass. It was one of several incidents on the journey which broke its monotony and distracted me from the discomfort.

During the day, of course, the landscape - rainforest reflected in the river's mirror - was spectacular. At night, the stars were dazzling and the river illuminated by the first quarter of the new moon - which on the Equator sits on its back like a smiling mouth. Most of river is surrounded by the rainforest’s towering trees, miles from any human habitation, and the sounds of the forest animals, cricking, booming and hooting, echo across the water.

I arrived, exhausted, at 7 am, after 25 hours cramped up in a canoe. What I came to realise was that if Basankusu was so difficult for me to get to, the people who live here must also feel so very isolated. Goods arriving to be sold in the market are limited because of this isolation and produce from people’s market gardens is difficult to send to markets elsewhere. Once you are here, there is very little contact with the outside world.

I was met by Fr John Kirwan MHM, who made me very welcome.