Holiday in DR Congo - (Part 1) Basankusu to Mbandaka by river

I decided to take a holiday away from my activities in Basankusu, where I've been living since the end of last year. Basankusu is just above the Equator in the Democratic Republic of Congo. I would go to Kinshasa, the capital city of the Congo, and recharge my batteries.

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Basankusu sits in a beautiful unspoilt part of the Congolese rainforest; its inhabitants’ lives bound in a strong Christian faith and equally strong ties to their families and wider clan. Extreme isolation and lack of any form of recognisable road system, coupled with endemic corruption and incompetent governance, result in a lack of commercial endeavour, poor education and poor healthcare, fuelling in turn the downward spiral into poverty.

There is an airstrip. They tell you it’s an airport. I remember a small plane landing there two months ago – only for deliveries, not for passengers.

Getting out of Basankusu has become a real problem.

I was very pleased to be told on Wednesday that one of the professors from our “university” (every town claims to have a university these days) was making a trip in his own large wooden canoe, complete with outboard engine. I would travel 500 km, beginning in Basankusu, along the River Lulonga and the River Congo, to Mbandaka. Mbandaka is recognisable as a town. Quite a few of the roads are tarmacked, and large aeroplanes land at the airport, three times a week, for Kinshasa. The town sits right on the Equator – so passing this point, I would pass from the Northern to the Southern Hemisphere  The river journey would take about 20 hours – starting Saturday at 3 pm and arriving early afternoon, Sunday. I would stay in Mbandaka for two nights before flying to Kinshasa on Tuesday. The man in charge of construction at the new Basankusu Cathedral, Engineer Dally, would make the journey with me.

Although it would be a snug fit, the canoe could accommodate about 18 people. The driver sits at the back with the outboard engine, and someone sits at the front to navigate. The central part of the canoe would have a structure over the middle to hold a tarpaulin – which would not only protect us from the possible tropical rain, but also from the blazing sun. We took our own chairs to sit on during the voyage.

The weather was perfect on Saturday: not much sun, now and then a few spots of rain … but nothing serious. The river generates a steady breeze – I don’t think it’s caused by the movement of the boat, but by the river itself. Even though the temperatures in Africa are always high, this persistent flow of air – and the fact that we were just sitting on a chair for so long – has a gradual cooling effect. Eventually, you start to shiver … hats, jackets, and lengths of cloth are pulled out of bags, as passengers try to wrap up against the cold. I was fortunate enough to have a waterproof coat and trousers, but still needed to pop another t-shirt over my shirt, to keep warm.

The scenery along the river is always spectacular. Lush green vegetation bordering the river is reflected in the pristine water. Small canoes appear from time to time – a man standing up and fishing with a net, an old woman with a canoe full of firewood, a young mother sitting in the stern with a very young child up front in the bow.

We passed Bonkita – 18 km from Basankusu. It’s where I teach each Monday at the minor-seminary. Then, we came to Bokakata and took a comfort break. We met one of the carpenters from the procure in Basankusu. He’d hurt his leg at work, and was recuperating in his home village. Everyone seemed to know him – myself included – and he took us to see a little bar he ran there. There was the distinctive aroma of Pastisse … that was the first time I’d seen that in Congo, and here it was, in a tiny village!

The journey continued. We passed a lot of Ngandas – fishing villages, made from bamboo and palm leaf thatch. Often these temporary houses are built on stilts to accommodate the different levels of the river throughout the year. We saw a larger boat going up-river and a much larger one, crowded with people and piled high with their goods. Night-time came and eventually went, small parcels of food emerged from people’s bags, quiet chatter, then the smell of toothpaste and the sound of teeth being given their morning once-over, and finally the tranquillity of the journey was broken by ring-tones on full volume … as we picked up the phone signal from Mbandaka.

Approaching Mbandaka, we started to notice Japanese Hyacinth here and there in the water. At one point we had to really slow down to avoid it. It’s an attractive plant with a pretty pink flower, and was first introduced into ornamental ponds in people’s gardens. Since finding its way into the river, it has become a menace. Not only can it become tangled in the propellers of passing boats, but, when present in large quantities, it blocks sunlight and causes the demise of everything in the river.

My worry about arriving somewhere new in Congo is the arbitrary nature of the official authorities. There only seems to be one rule – if you’re identified as a foreigner (being white is the give-away) you should pay some money. The level of greed by local officials is the only variation to this. Movement between towns, especially of foreigners, is strictly monitored in Congo. We pulled in alongside another large wooden canoe and started to unload our things. Things were going smoothly when a woman holding a pen and an exercise-book approached me and asked for my papers. She copied my name and visa details from my passport, asked me where I would be staying in Mbandaka and said that everything was in order … and that was all. What? No bribe to pay? No extortionate demand for payment? In fact quite a warm, courteous welcome … what’s the world coming to?

Engineer Dally and I carried our chairs and bags up the hill from the riverside to the road. We negotiated a price with three motor-bike taxis. One carried my big wooden armchair and suitcase, the other two would carry us and our smaller bags.

Mbandaka Cathedral, the diocesan procure, the Sacred Heart Brothers, and the Sisters of the Holy Face of the Infant Jesus, all have their buildings in one compound. We arrived at the sisters’ convent, where I intended staying, and where Engineer Dally said he’d leave his things until he got a room in a hotel. The sisters were very welcoming and installed me into a small room with shower and toilet. The shower worked, but I’d need buckets of water to flush the toilet. $25 US per night – no food

The sisters had a little shelter outside the main building, that’s where Dally and I shared the bits of food we’d brought along – my offering was literally loaves and fishes as Mama Didi, our cook in Basankusu, had packed me up with a Tupperware container of grilled fish and a couple of loaves of bread. Dally had some cassava bread – the starchy local staple … and I also had some roasted peanuts. Someone went to buy beer for us and we were set for our feast!

After eating, I phoned Brother Fuila, who’d made the same journey as us a few days before, but who was now in Kinshasa. He said I should put my chair and waterproof tarpaulin in at the brothers’ place for safe-keeping until my return from Kinshasa in two months’ time. I went across the brothers’ and Dally, on advice from Basankusu diocese, went to find a room at the procure.

Brother Sylvain was very welcoming. He found a room to store my chair and tarp. He also told me that they were expecting me to stay with them, and, no, they wouldn't charge me a penny, and yes, of course, I would eat with them. It didn’t take me long to move my stuff … and he and his student proved to be very good company over the next couple of days in Mbandaka.