After being told that the Angolan Consular had returned from a weekend trip to Luanda last Tuesday, the boys and I thought we could finally get a requisite letter saying it was possible to get our Angolan visas in Matadi, DRC. We need this letter, we were told, to prove to immigration officers in Kinshasa that we have a valid means of exiting the country.
Our luck continued to go awry, though, as we were told that Angolan consular services here in Brazzaville are closed. Indefinitely.
Feeling much too confident in our abilities to talk our way out of situations and our influential contacts we had on the beach in Kinshasa (including the chief of immigration police, an English businessman and a local guy), we decided to risk the crossing to Kinshasa last Thursday. Big Mistake. Big. Huge!
The road leading up to the port is bordered by dozens of folks with disabilities being carted up and down in three-wheeled hand bikes and on the backs of their friends and family. After paying 16,000 CFA (around $40US) just to get into the port, we had to convince an immigration officer to stamp us out of the country despite not having the letter from the Angolan Embassy. He reluctantly did so, warning us that tourists are turned back all the time and we were taking a big risk. After clearing customs and buying our tickets (25,000CFA per car, about $60US), we were ready.
Congo ferry crossings are hectic! People are just scurrying everywhere. Some were carrying sacks of flour up to 150kg/about 300lbs on their heads and shoulders (which is quite strange, to see skinny young black guys speckled white with flour and carrying twice my weight on their backs). Others peddled bottled yaourt (homemade yogurt), cheap sodas with neon labels, Congolese beer, peanuts and cigarettes. And a good portion of the passengers were the same folks on three-wheeled hand carts and piggy-backed that we saw on the drive into the port. Enter into this a handful of gruff port police who seem to enjoy whipping the passengers with braided rope for any reason, and you have the Brazzaville-Kinshasa ferry crossing. You’re forbidden to take any photos of government buildings, institutions, operations, and so I have no photos of the crazy crossing (although we were able to get one subpar photo by sweet-talking an officer with a cigarette).
At the beach, things looked like they would go well. Our immigration police contact met us on the ferry and took our paperwork to be processed. Mark went inside to talk to the immigration officers while Steve and I chatted with curious folks in the parking lot. Then things took a sudden turn for the worse. The immigration official talking to Mark left the room and then came back saying we must leave immediately. He chased Mark out to the parking lot as Mark tried to call our British contact to see if he could help us. But the immigration official quickly had the police on us and told us we could not make any calls. They pulled out their batons and lunged at us as they shouted “GO NOW! LEAVE!”
All the sudden we were back on the boats with voided DRC visas and our passports in the hands of the port police until we returned to Brazzaville. The crossing back to Brazzaville was even more intense than the first. There was twice the whippings, twice the shouting, twice the fights and even an arrest made (of course after the guy was slammed into the side of our car first). We arrived back in Brazzaville to the tsk tsk of the immigration officers and plenty of “what happened?”
Shaken up and dirty we decided to see if there was anything the US embassy could do for us. If nothing else, it was an opportunity to find a sympathetic ear. But we ended up meeting the US Consul who has been helping us using her contacts at the DRC embassy here in Brazzaville and in Kinshasa. Plus we tapped into a little community of US expats working at the embassy who showed us a great little oasis of a place to stay that even has wifi called the Hippocampe. They’ve also taken us out for a crazy night on town, which wasn’t really much different than in Pointe Noire—dark, seedy little overpriced joints that don’t charge white folks to enter and have plenty of “working” girls. It was fun, though, and quite a good change from the stress of being stuck.
We also met a South African couple traveling South to North through Africa that have been great company and provided us loads of contacts along the cape (http://www.rootsinafrica.co.za). Their LandRover has broken down twice already—first in Matadi and now again. They spent $2000 already for the towing from where it broke down (funny enough they broke down in the same spot that we spent the night in the ninja camp, although their experience was less than nice or entertaining) and repairs that was completely squandered by the mechanic, who also managed to escape with glasses, tools and who knows what else from their car. Now they have a new mechanic who again will charge them somewhere around $1000. Every dollar spent on rip-off mechanics is less travel time. Shame, but this is Central Africa and there are no alternatives other than to give up. And there is no way that will happen for the South Africans or us!
On this coming Thursday we will try the crossing again, this time with letters from the US embassy as well as the DRC consular from Brazzaville himself. Hopefully everything will work out better this time for us. We had to purchase a new DRC visa, new boat tickets as well as pay for our expenses here in Brazzaville, so I’m not sure I can afford another failed crossing!
3 comments:
It's funny you commented on that particular blog because right after I had posted it, a good friend of mine from Senegal said he had mixed feelings about it. He told me the type of poverty and asking for money is extremely different in West Africa and generally Islamic countries. It's definitely a strange topic that has no clear answer. But jeez, I hope you're travel issues clear up!!
btw, what was the name of that book you mentioned?
Wow! Your tales from the Congo have been most enlightening. Interestingly, a German friend of mine did the Cape Town - Dakar over land trip in 3 weeks, without any visa issues. However, he had all his documentation before he left Cape Town.
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