Bad Day

I've had a bad day. Or maybe just a Congo day. Either way, I am exhausted and at 9 pm I am still not sure where I will sleep tonight.

It all started at our nice Sultani Hotel this morning, when our entire delegation (senior staff from every province) was basically kicked out to make place for - apparently - the South Korean presidential delegation. OK, I get political sensitivities and all, but I am outraged at our logistics guy, who seemed totally unfazed. His only reaction - throwing of all of our stuff in the back on a car, with an unknown destination TBD. I cannot even stress enough my utter annoyance, at the fact that I had to pack again my three + suitcases that I've been now living out of for more than 2 weeks, just to be told that on Friday morning we'd have to move yet again...

I thought I knew better, though, as I was totally planning to fly out to Goma on Friday, and I also thought I had made all arrangements for it (i.e. asking our extensive logistics team to book me a seat). When I arrived at the office they were all smiles, but soon they started punching the bad news. First, as we are only allowed to take UN flights, we are also only allowed to have 20 kg of luggage with us - and paying overweight simply won't do. I could not emphasize enough that I would want my luggage there WITH me, so a whole machinery started looking into DHL options to ship my stuff a day in advance of my flight (i.e. Thursday). Of course, as proforma for shipping came in, so came the other piece of fantastic news: I was totally cut off the Friday flight, and I was now looking at next Tuesday at best... In the meantime my passport was being taken to immigration but my work card was not yet ready, so I was in Kinshasa without identity, without accommodation, without luggage. Exactly what I had dreamed of in this mad city. Add to that the fact that yesterday, as I was using my personal Vaio for work, my charger fried, and the news was that no Sony chargers were to be found anywhere in Congo, and in the meantime they gave me this CRAP DELL with an impossible French keyboard, and all was just terrific. In the midst of all this I also had to reconfigure my entire schedule, as Mary, the girl that was supposed to give me an extensive briefing, had just gone gone down with malaria...

As meetings came and went, and as the evening was drawing closer, I was sort of becoming slightly impatient. The system we have here - with rotating drivers and cars - is all nice in principle, but certainly not that great during rush hour, when cars are totally stuck God knows where and the mobile phone networks simply do not work. So there I was, at 6.30 pm, frantically calling an unanswerable driver phone, while on the other line trying to find out at least what the name of the new hotel was. No real luck on either end, until someone rushed to our office and mentioned 'the bus was downstairs and all have to go now'. It turned out we had been rented a bus, that no one wanted to take in the end, since they were all about to go out. I was so tired, though, that I decided to get a lift. And there I was, all by myself in a 20-seater, that stumbled every 2 meters on the way to an unknown destination.

When we finally arrived to this no-name construction behind a thick fence I was really at the end of all my wits. A few guys came up from nowhere and showed me through a narrow hall to the reception window, and then through another narrow hall to my room - where, MIRACULOUSLY, all my bags (tagged an untagged?!) were waiting for me... In my delight, coupled with the excitement to see a really nice room, I almost overlooked the fact that the mosquitoes were literally swarming in there. When I was quite directly attacked, while still standing, and pointed to the guys that there was no moustiquaire and that I absolutely needed one, they were quick to rebut me "But why, there are absolutely no mosquitoes in here, as you can see!"

At that moment all I could do was get the hell out of there and ask for a large beer. And a moustiquaire and insect repellent. And surely, they did provide a Primus as well as some anti-insect canned product, which finished at the first attempted spraying. At the same time I was trying to negotiate for some dinner, and the best I could do was get a fried quarter of a chicken, with some rice and two tomato slices for 20 bucks. Clearly, this was NOT going to make me happy.

While I was waiting for my dinner in the nicely hidden garden, by the pool, I was duly informed that 'the technician' called to buy and fix the moustiquaire had defected. Just as well, I thought, as he was the tiniest man I had ever seen, trying to estimate how to deal with a problem hooked to a ceiling of at least 4 meters high, without any ladder or any tools. As I was biting into my delicious soso breast, I was also quite naturally courted by this fat, middle-aged Congolese man sitting at the next table. Small talk all you want, of course, I was thinking, until I almost choked when he mentioned he has just returned from... Maramures (the most picturesque part of Romania). Wait, WHAT?! He then went on a rant telling me how much Romanians and Congolese are like each other, because they prefer living in large groups. La Roumanie, c'est presque comme l'Afrique, he concluded, and that's when I decided it was time to go back to the mosquitoes.

After another round of negotiations with the reception guy, who took me to five other rooms to prove to me the 'no-mosquito show', I decided to take the first one anyhow, at least to try it out. With the disgusting AC at full blow, malaria-Mary on my mind, and three personal sprays at peak (intoxicating myself to begin with), I am now maybe contemplating to let myself pass out and just hope to wake up to a more normal day... Then again, when you sign up for Congo, you pretty much forgo any right to any claimed normality...