Congo Kinshasa: Francis Hannaway travels back to the Congo

I’d been home to renew my visa – that’s another story in itself!

The journey back to Congo went like this.
I finally closed my suitcase on Thursday morning, only to open and close it again 5 times to take things out and put other things in. I travelled into Middlesbrough with my niece, Verity, at 1:15 pm,  and we had a nice chat on the way. I’d arranged to meet Jean Pierre Elonga, a senior lecturer at Teesside University, and who, a long time ago, had been a Mill Hill seminarian. We drank a couple of beers and very soon it was time to go for my train.

Francis Hannaway and
Jean Pierre Elonga

Jean Pierre walked to the station with me; my train left at 6:20 pm and arrived at Manchester Airport a little after 9 o’clock.

I made my way to Terminal 2. I had a quick look on the “Sleeping in Airports” website – and they advised sleeping on the chairs in the arrivals hall, and so I staked my claim to 3 chairs and settled down for the night. I started to feel the crisp winter chill that was in the air. Even inside the airport it was cold. I think they open warehouse doors for night-time deliveries, because every now and then another wave of icy air would waft through the arrival hall. A sandwich from the little Spa supermarket, some light, dream-filled sleep for a couple of hours and it was suddenly Friday; I was ready to drop off my suitcase and go to the departure lounge. The flight left at 6:10.

I’d been told at check-in that there was a vegetarian meal for me for both legs of the journey. I soon realised that they meant the main flight, going and returning. On this, the connecting flight, there was some attempt at breakfast – but you had to pay for it. Not only that, but you had to pay in cash because their card-reader was broken. … and only English money! Very few people bought breakfast. Gone are the days when you’d at least get a cup of coffee and a snack to start your journey!

I really do feel that they should have kept the system in which long-haul passengers (such as me) were given a bit of TLC on the connecting flights, considering how tiring a long journey is … and how expensive a long-haul ticket is! When Brussels Airlines replaced Sabena, we were seated just behind business class and the crew  knew that we were long-distance travellers – not just popping over the channel for a few days.

In Brussels, people like me with connecting flights were directed straight to the transfer area – no need to go through the security check again! I made my way to the T gates shuttle service, only to be told that the plane wouldn’t be leaving at 10:50 (9:50 UK time) but at 1 o’clock in the afternoon! “Go back upstairs to the Brussels Airlines service-desk and they’ll give you a voucher,” the airport clerk said. “What voucher?” I asked. “They’ll give you a voucher for a drink because of the delay.”

And so they did. I really wanted breakfast, but the voucher clearly said ‘drink’. I was in Belgium, so I thought I should have a Belgian beer. “You’ll only be able to get a small one,” the woman serving at the bar said, “and even then, you’ll need to top it up by 20 cents.” She pointed out the value of the voucher, which was €5. I didn't want to start rooting about in my bag for some Euros, especially when I was supposed to be getting compensated for free.

I went back to the service desk to complain. They very politely explained that the amount of compensation was an internationally agreed level determined by the length of the delay. I realised it was just to distract us while we waited.

Starbucks said I could spend my €5 on cake as well as coffee – but I wouldn’t really have enough and would need to top it up – the same as my first attempt with the beer. I settled for the biggest cup of coffee, found a comfy seat and took advantage of the airport’s free Wi-Fi. It was a good distraction, though; I did feel a bit more relaxed. Perhaps I should do it more often instead of always rushing about.

The flight took off at 1 o’clock, as announced, and the flight was uneventful (which is good of course). Brussels Airlines meals are pleasant enough, but over the years have become smaller – food is served less frequently throughout the flight. I enjoyed a couple of glasses of red wine – but think back to the days of the little bottles that they served – and that you could ask for two of.

The flight took 8 hours from Belgium. We arrived at 9 pm exactly. I peeled off the wind-cheater, jumper and 2 t-shirts, scarf and woolly hat I’d been wearing over my shirt and prepared to meet the humid 32 degrees of a Kinshasa evening. It took me an hour to negotiate passport control, present my Yellow Fever card and hastily fill in a form saying that I didn’t have any of the symptoms of the Chinese Corona virus. The thousands of sheets of paper generated each week from this exercise will no doubt be carefully put into a big box, never copied into a data-base for analysis and, in all probability … never looked at again!

The road from the airport to Kinshasa was at almost complete gridlock. It was now after 10 pm and there was traffic backed up as far as you could see! The so-called “sheep jumps” are a big part of the problem. A city-wide project to help reduce congestion with flyovers at busy crossroads has progressed slowly. Many of the cordoned-off sites have never been touched since the start. People are sick of them. We made most of the 20 km journey, edging along in either first or second gear - arriving at the Procure Saint Anne at about 11:30 pm. Two friends were waiting for me. They refused my offer of a drink and I arrived at my house at midnight.

I’d been promised food. There wasn’t any. A glass of beer wouldn’t have gone amiss … I asked my minder to go and buy me a couple. He returned with one. Never mind.

We sat and chatted until about 1:30 – I’d left the house at 1:15 pm on Thursday – it was now Saturday … time for a good night’s sleep.