I had given up hope that this day would actually come, when I would see my passport again…
Although I had been warned that Congo work visa takes weeks to be issued – and I was clearly up for a looong wait – lately I had started to believe in some sort of a bad karma regarding my passport and this whole visa issue. Now, 76 days after I last entered Congo, I finally have this document in my hands again, and I can finally start BREATHING properly.
There are a million and then some reasons why this takes so very long. On paper, the Direction Migration Generale (DGM) in Kinshasa is supposed to issue the $475 work visa in 15 days. In practice, it normally takes at least twice as long, since it has to go to many offices and depends on many bureacrats’ caprices. It didn’t help, of course, that our logs people delayed depositing my passport for more than 10 days after my arrival on July 2 (when they should have done it within 2 days, to avoid an initial fine). As impatient as I was about this back then, I have in the meantime come to terms with the fact that there is always confusion among my colleagues, as to why I am “Kinshasa staff based in Goma”, and that it takes a long time for them to agree on what procedures and codes I should be assigned to.
Anyhow, days after they finally gave my passport to the Kinshasa DGM, I was issued a fancy document stating that I am to pay more than $3,000 fine. The reason? Well, it goes back to my last year’s job, when I had a work visa in Rwanda (since I was based there), and then two six-month-visitor Congo visas issued by the Goma DGM (each of them costing $475). Apparently, though, Kinshasa DGM does not recognize Goma DGM (?!), and their claim was that I therefore worked illegally in Congo all past year. Another frantic episode started, with my former employer issuing explanatory letters and my current employer hiring a lawyer. Nothing helped, of course, especially as the Kinshasa DGM was already smelling the money. In the end they negotiated the fine down to $1,500, and my new NGO did pay up (God bless them, they actually had nothing to do with that…). The only good thing that came out of this: a realization on everyone’s part that in future similar cases the person in question “had better lose their passports” ahead of returning to Congo with a Goma-issued visa, and “start fresh” in Kinshasa (everything is done manually, anyhow, so no computer records will show previous visas)…
However, back to my case -- and another four weeks had lapsed. In the meantime, I had started to get seriously worried: one about my very old grandmother (if something had happened to her I would have been unable to leave this country), but also about my own situation: as Goma offers zero medical care (apart from a MONUSCO emergency point that we are officially NOT authorized to use), in any case of serious illness I would have been stuck here. Not to mention, of course, all the evacuation alerts for security reasons, which would have made my leaving also very difficult, if not impossible. Add to that a daily frustration that had been eating slowly at me: I live just 5 minutes on foot from the Rwanda border, and I was counting on crossing loads, for a more normal life grasp and also to see all my dear friends (and cat) left behind, but every day I had to suck it up and let go of that illusion a little bit more…
As August was also drawing to an end, my impatience was really mounting. Numerous calls and emails remained answered, until last Friday when our rather inept otherwise visa-liaison person called me up with the good news: “The visa is stamped in your passport. But now la guerre commence avec Finance.”
What guerre? Well, it goes, apparently, along these lines: every NGO pays the $475 for each passport deposited, but apparently the DGM finance guy(s) run a bit of a separate business with that cash, counting on the fact that it’ll take weeks before those visas will actually be issued. It was the same now – visa was finally in the passport, but the money to pay for it was nowhere (although it had been deposited on July 15 already). This way, I would have to wait until another file came before the DGM, so that another poor bastard’s passport will be stuck for weeks while THAT money was transferred to my case.
Of course, when you feel like you’re so close the incertitude is even more upsetting. The whole week I fussed around, also because I was supposed to book my obligatory R&R flights for this month (and had heard horror stories of people whose visas had not been issued in time for the R&R, so the passport had to be taken out from the DGM and then resubmitted, for another 3-month ordeal to begin). In this frenzy I even took the risk and bought my flights online yesterday, counting on some miracle (or, rather, on some universal benediction to be bestowed upon me).
And then, this morning, I opened my emails and there it was: the passport had been released last night and already sent on the UN flight to Goma this morning, with some MONUSCO general named Bruno. I rushed down the stairs to ask our liaison guy here to please go find Bruno at the airport when the plane lands and finally retrieve my most longed-for possession ever. I could hardly concentrate all morning, spinning around and smelling the freedom ever closer.
At 14.30 this afternoon I was victoriously holding my barely-legible-by-now-Romanian passport, and ever since then I’ve been feeling on top of the world! It is only now that all those repressed fears actually became real in retrospect (considering that Congo, of ALL places, in not a country you’d like to be stuck for ANY reason, let alone medical or security)…
Almost in disbelief, I am now flipping through the many pages stamped and noticing the following: 1. They issued me a wrong visa which is now ‘annulled’; 2. The current visa is valid until Sept. 2014, so now I really should decide to stay for 3 years in Congo; 3. The visa will actually only be valid if I exit the country within the first three months, otherwise it becomes void (?); 4. The visa needs to be renewed 7 months (?!); 5. There is no picture of mine attached (although I was asked to give 4 to the DGM).
In short – all things that make sense….Tonight, though, I have just one thing on my mind: celebrating!!!! (would love to pop some champagne rose open…). OK, and maybe buying everyone (including all incompetents, it does not matter anymore) lots of drinks. And, maybe, finding Bruno and thanking him for the amazing delivery.
And then, tomorrow, as I will wake up with a heavy head, I will crawl to the border to hop back and forth a few times. Freedom is priceless!
Friday, September 16, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Kalemie Blues
I am writing this in the ‘waiting room’ at Kalemie MONUSCO Airport, where I am waiting for the only weekly flight out to stop by at some point today and get me to Goma. As I approached the gate this morning, the guard quickly showed up to check my name on the list. He actually had a few lists tucked in one folder, as Thursday seems to be the magic day here: all rare flights from and to all directions converge in Kalemie so that passengers can swap planes. The guard flipped through all the lists, but he somehow only found one Suzanne and one Charlize, and I kept trying to convince him that I was neither. When he was just about ready to dictate I should go back, I caught glimpse of a tiny table at the bottom of one of the lists. There, in all majesty, stood my name! Surprisingly, too, there were no mistakes!!! (Last two times I flew to and from Kinshasa, I was recorded as Silviana-Maria – with no family name – and on the way back Sinziana Demain – which prompted comments after comments when they finally caught on). This time – wow – I was there, with all my three names all spelled out correctly. I was really happy for some 5 seconds, until I discovered how I was registered under nationality: Italian. Why and how come – totally beyond me. I guess someone might have just guessed my nationality according to the sounding of my name… Oh well, I could live with that, and so could the guard, so here I was granted passage in this open-air barrack. Not before I was informed that I would be the only passenger to board here (hopefully not the only passenger on the plane, though…) These flights usually go in circles- i.e. Goma-Kalemie-Kindu-Bukavu-Goma, so I am thinking more stranded people in all these places would join my flying adventure today.
As MONUSCO-Benin contingent soldiers are crowding the area, and one NGO and UN car after another comes by Tanganyika Lake shore and then through the gravel yard to drop off other passengers, I am already getting the blues for this place, where I now spent one full week. Maybe it is just the element of total surprise that I experienced here, or maybe the great feeling of normality (which I have not found anywhere else in Congo) that got to me, but I REALLY, REALLY had a great time in this God forsaken place. Of course, the fact that I lived in a beautiful house right on the lake, AND that I could take loooong walks on the beach, made this week very special indeed.
The one “big challenge” I experienced: finding a place to swim without having hundreds of people congregate around or follow me in the water (mzungus are a rarity around here, and even more so girls in bikinis, I would imagine). Even at 6 a.m. (during the most spectacular sunrises I have ever seen at the beach), or at 6 p.m. (as darkness falls abruptly), the beach is usually swamped: fishermen with all sorts of tools (including mosquito nets for the tiny prey); people washing themselves or tons of clothes; kids playing in the very shallow water; women loading massive sand sacks and then swiftly balancing them on their heads to walk all the way into town; boys coming with the yellow plastic containers to get water for all household necessities (including drinking, of course…) It really is one of those places where the Lake gives life and death at the same time, considering all the many diseases that get carried back and forth through this “good-for-all” water…
Of course the week was not just fun-in-the-sun, but mainly incredibly intense field work. Inland, I visited scores of villages and talked to tens of people about every single aspect of their lives: family, education, health, development… I visited school and clinics, mills and markets. For the first time in my life I saw cholera emergency camps set up (no patients, though, at this time … a surge is expected soon, once the rainy season begins). Also for the first time ever I was in a camp for Internally Displaced People (IDPs), coming mostly from the neighboring provinces where rebels and army alike constantly threaten and destroy people’s lives. It was one of the harshest moments I have ever experienced, witnessing all the misery, disease, poverty and hopelessness…
As my life constantly balances between the lowest of the low, in the world’s most backward country, and the ultimate luxury I am actually bestowed upon, I cannot be thankful enough for seeing and living it all. Kalemie was by no means an exception. A completely astonishing week now comes to the end, and I can say this much: I have never been happier and more fulfilled in my new job than now!
As MONUSCO-Benin contingent soldiers are crowding the area, and one NGO and UN car after another comes by Tanganyika Lake shore and then through the gravel yard to drop off other passengers, I am already getting the blues for this place, where I now spent one full week. Maybe it is just the element of total surprise that I experienced here, or maybe the great feeling of normality (which I have not found anywhere else in Congo) that got to me, but I REALLY, REALLY had a great time in this God forsaken place. Of course, the fact that I lived in a beautiful house right on the lake, AND that I could take loooong walks on the beach, made this week very special indeed.
The one “big challenge” I experienced: finding a place to swim without having hundreds of people congregate around or follow me in the water (mzungus are a rarity around here, and even more so girls in bikinis, I would imagine). Even at 6 a.m. (during the most spectacular sunrises I have ever seen at the beach), or at 6 p.m. (as darkness falls abruptly), the beach is usually swamped: fishermen with all sorts of tools (including mosquito nets for the tiny prey); people washing themselves or tons of clothes; kids playing in the very shallow water; women loading massive sand sacks and then swiftly balancing them on their heads to walk all the way into town; boys coming with the yellow plastic containers to get water for all household necessities (including drinking, of course…) It really is one of those places where the Lake gives life and death at the same time, considering all the many diseases that get carried back and forth through this “good-for-all” water…
Of course the week was not just fun-in-the-sun, but mainly incredibly intense field work. Inland, I visited scores of villages and talked to tens of people about every single aspect of their lives: family, education, health, development… I visited school and clinics, mills and markets. For the first time in my life I saw cholera emergency camps set up (no patients, though, at this time … a surge is expected soon, once the rainy season begins). Also for the first time ever I was in a camp for Internally Displaced People (IDPs), coming mostly from the neighboring provinces where rebels and army alike constantly threaten and destroy people’s lives. It was one of the harshest moments I have ever experienced, witnessing all the misery, disease, poverty and hopelessness…
As my life constantly balances between the lowest of the low, in the world’s most backward country, and the ultimate luxury I am actually bestowed upon, I cannot be thankful enough for seeing and living it all. Kalemie was by no means an exception. A completely astonishing week now comes to the end, and I can say this much: I have never been happier and more fulfilled in my new job than now!
Sunday, September 4, 2011
The Pearl of Tanganyika
I will definitely remember the first fall days of 2011 by this most full of surprises visit I have embarked on in Congo: the nearly forgotten town of Kalemie. Back in colonial times, the Belgians had named it “The Pearl of Tanganyika”, since its strategic location - pretty much half way down Africa’s deepest lake – made it an invaluable resource. They built up a very important harbor here, where the trains with precious ores from Zambia (then Rhodesia) and Lubumbashi (the largest Congo city in this province, Katanga), were swiftly exchanging with merchandise coming by boat from Tanzania. A traffic hub it would have been, in today’s terms… Only that its present certainly does not live up to its illustrious past.
Not that Kalemie has had a positive history all throughout. Even before the Belgians arrived, the Arabs were wreaking havoc here with their slave trade. Then Livingstone and later on Stanley used Kalemie as a strategic base for their expeditions – the latter of which eventually led to the brutal colonization of Congo. At all times, however, this lake-shore town was well known and had its clearly marked spot on the map.
Today, following the total collapse of the Congolese state at all levels and the many wars and rebellions plaguing this country, Kalemie is a no-name. Further up East, where I am based, every property houses an NGO, but here, as the situation is now ‘calm’, not even the humanitarian workers crowd to establish their presence. MONUSCO also, with a battalion of Beninois, has a much smaller mission and mandate than in other parts of Congo. Kalemie, if anything, is marked only as a stop-over on UN flights from Goma or Bukavu to Lubumbashi.
My self-awarded mission here, of a forced 7-days due to the rare flights in-and-out, was therefore something of a conundrum. We have a lot of programs in the region, and my main interest was going to be education around the beginning of the new school year, but beyond that I was anticipating a bit of a bore. Little did I know that this place was going to take me by complete surprise – in the BEST way possible.
Already from the airport, driving the 6 kms. into town, I felt like I had landed not in a different province but in a different country. Surely, the scenery was completely special – the type of Vama Veche in Romania crossed with Monterrico in Guatemala, if I could combine two past experiences on different continents to define a place in Africa… Or, in another way -- the type of climate and easy-goingness that you can ONLY find in seaside/lakeside places. But it was something else that completely shook me. It took me a few hours to put my finger on it, but then I finally grasped it: it was a sense of NORMALITY, which I had not experienced anywhere else in this mad country. Despite the many apparent difficulties people act calmly, and life here is really established. Anywhere else, in the neighboring provinces, this would be a dream, considering their horrible chaotic state due to so many stages of wars and uprisings, with or without a cause and finality. The fact that very mean-looking soldiers and rebels are NOT pacing the town everywhere makes a HUGE difference, of course, and gives the people a chance to breathe and go about their daily businesses in a much more casual, tranquil way.
That AND the stunning beauty of the region – from perfect coastline into savannah and then the bush - should be enough arguments to have tourism flourish here one day. I can only imagine boats crossing from Tanzania, and then tourists embarking on some-day-hopefully-again functioning trains to start their adventure journeys inland, to the heart of Congo’s majestic rain forest. For now, though, a mzungu in town is a rarity, as I have observed over the past four days, and anything catered towards public service is virtually non-existent or completely run-down.
That said, I have had great company. As our American chef-de-mission is on vacation, I am left to share the lakeside house with five African expat men, from Cote d’Ivoire, Benin, Cameroon, Kenya and Tanzania. Incredibly respectful and fun, they have really made it their mission to take good care of me. I feel, again, quite humbled by Africa’s hospitality and charm. To me, the Pearl of Tanganyika certainly merits its name, and then some!
Not that Kalemie has had a positive history all throughout. Even before the Belgians arrived, the Arabs were wreaking havoc here with their slave trade. Then Livingstone and later on Stanley used Kalemie as a strategic base for their expeditions – the latter of which eventually led to the brutal colonization of Congo. At all times, however, this lake-shore town was well known and had its clearly marked spot on the map.
Today, following the total collapse of the Congolese state at all levels and the many wars and rebellions plaguing this country, Kalemie is a no-name. Further up East, where I am based, every property houses an NGO, but here, as the situation is now ‘calm’, not even the humanitarian workers crowd to establish their presence. MONUSCO also, with a battalion of Beninois, has a much smaller mission and mandate than in other parts of Congo. Kalemie, if anything, is marked only as a stop-over on UN flights from Goma or Bukavu to Lubumbashi.
My self-awarded mission here, of a forced 7-days due to the rare flights in-and-out, was therefore something of a conundrum. We have a lot of programs in the region, and my main interest was going to be education around the beginning of the new school year, but beyond that I was anticipating a bit of a bore. Little did I know that this place was going to take me by complete surprise – in the BEST way possible.
Already from the airport, driving the 6 kms. into town, I felt like I had landed not in a different province but in a different country. Surely, the scenery was completely special – the type of Vama Veche in Romania crossed with Monterrico in Guatemala, if I could combine two past experiences on different continents to define a place in Africa… Or, in another way -- the type of climate and easy-goingness that you can ONLY find in seaside/lakeside places. But it was something else that completely shook me. It took me a few hours to put my finger on it, but then I finally grasped it: it was a sense of NORMALITY, which I had not experienced anywhere else in this mad country. Despite the many apparent difficulties people act calmly, and life here is really established. Anywhere else, in the neighboring provinces, this would be a dream, considering their horrible chaotic state due to so many stages of wars and uprisings, with or without a cause and finality. The fact that very mean-looking soldiers and rebels are NOT pacing the town everywhere makes a HUGE difference, of course, and gives the people a chance to breathe and go about their daily businesses in a much more casual, tranquil way.
That AND the stunning beauty of the region – from perfect coastline into savannah and then the bush - should be enough arguments to have tourism flourish here one day. I can only imagine boats crossing from Tanzania, and then tourists embarking on some-day-hopefully-again functioning trains to start their adventure journeys inland, to the heart of Congo’s majestic rain forest. For now, though, a mzungu in town is a rarity, as I have observed over the past four days, and anything catered towards public service is virtually non-existent or completely run-down.
That said, I have had great company. As our American chef-de-mission is on vacation, I am left to share the lakeside house with five African expat men, from Cote d’Ivoire, Benin, Cameroon, Kenya and Tanzania. Incredibly respectful and fun, they have really made it their mission to take good care of me. I feel, again, quite humbled by Africa’s hospitality and charm. To me, the Pearl of Tanganyika certainly merits its name, and then some!
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