Bob's Blog

The Congo Diaries

Leaving Kindu

15th July 2011

Finally! We have departed Kindu. Patience is definitely not one of my virtues. Waiting the last two days has definitely been testing.

I arrived in Kindu feeling rather weak, the last cycling day was especially laborious, physically I felt OK but mentally almost sick of the ride. I definitely looked very jaded, no doubt due to the tough road conditions I'd been riding through, combined with the lack of food & lack of variety. Perhaps I too would become pot bellied though malnutrition like the children in the villages through which I passed.

Spent the first night at the catholic mission and felt pangs of guilt that they let me stay for free after I said I had no money and wanted to camp. The next day was a waiting game. Ferdinand, the money obsessed boat owner wouldn't budge below $35, I'm sure locals pay less, but not much.

The boat was cancelled for some unknown reason. I was hot sweaty and very dirty. I just wanted to get to the relative luxury of Kisangani (Stanleyville), where I had a place to stay. I reluctantly asked if I could sleep on the boat that night 'no problem' said Ferdinand.

Just before dark I went looking for something to eat and I started chatting to Mohammed - a Congolese Muslim I had chatted to earlier in the day. He suggested I could spend the night at the mosque, which sounded rather more appealing than a night on the boat.

In the end, he invited me to stay at his place where he gave up his bed for me and gave me food and charged my dead phone, a very nice guy, only 18 years old but whose father was 74 and had an equal amount of children through 7 or 8 different wives, Mohammed was not even the youngest!

Now I hope to have enough food to last the next two or three days (who knows), to Ubundu where the rapids stop the boats continuing downstream, so I'll have to cycle the last 100km along a road that follows train tracks. Should be flat at least!

Canoeing the Congo: Day 1

22nd July 2011

Keep thinking or hoping the have stopped their chorus, so loud I can hear nothing else. I think I've had too much coffee today or perhaps it's just the buzz of the new adventure, or maybe it is just the incessant croaking of the frogs -either way, I'm wide awake in my tent on the banks of the Congo, while Kigoss is blissfully asleep in the pirogue.

Looking forward to the next days rowing, hope to take command in the morning and take the back seat (steering) position. From how it went today I felt fairly confident I can manage the pirogue on my own and think I'll be happier with a bit of solitude & just have myself to look after, rather than have to share all my luxuries, cigarettes and also cook for Kigoss.

Finding a camp spot was easy enough, as I thought it would be; moor up on the bank of the river and pitch the tent - not too much commotion from the locals, they soon lost interest after I'd pitched my tent & went inside for 10 minutes.

Managed to spill the food I was cooling for us both, so I gave what was left to Kigoss and cooked a tin of chicken curry for myself. Think I should make full use of him for the next few days - get him to do the cooking from food bought along the river - I can't survive on the things I've bought from Kisangani for long.

Glad to have the tent working again, though the English guy who canoed the whole Congo river suggested I sleep in the pirogue - just like Kigoss is at the moment. This I think would suit much better, I just need a mosquito net and some way to hang it over the pirogue. Hope to find that and a tarp in the next town, then I can almost survive without leaving the pirogue at all, just for supplies. Plus I wouldn't have to take any gear off the boat a great time saver.

Had a brief look on the GPS as to the speed we were doing, not sure how accurate the speed is but just Kigoss paddling we were doing almost 9km/hr - but when I paddled as well, the speed did not increase - bizarre. Anyhow if I can manage even 8km/hr on my own, the 50k a day target is well within reach.

Today the river was calm, a tranquil and relaxing row, a very different experience from riding, a methodological pace, a constant gradient, even without paddling, the current pulls the pirogue along -all very different from the Thames, where the numerous locks straggle the current until you enter the boundaries of London. Unlike cycling along a road the people, the 'natives' are at a far enough distance not to invade my space; I'm happy to wave at a nice distance, although the constant giggles and jokes do still niggle, I imagine more so when I'm on my own, without Kigoss.

My biggest fears are none too great -I'm confident with the canoe, even in choppy water I think it shall be fine, no water even entered the vessel today except when my rowing motion was causing splash-back. I'm told there are no crocodiles from here to Kinshasa, none that the guy who canoed the whole said anyway - he did say there were Hippos though. I hope I can spot them at a safe distance and am quick enough to get out of their way if I do! Other than that, I am slightly apprehensive regarding electrical - after reading on the internet for the best plan of action if stuck out in one, I'm still unsure what to do - I hope I'll be near a village. It must must almost be certain I'll be caught up in one in the next five weeks. Think I'll pick up a long-wave radio in the next town, listening to the BBC is just what I need. The reassurance of the BBC, an English voice, would be a joy. Do need to improve my French though!

Boats and pirogues are still passing along the river, guided by the slither of light from the crescent moon, the first croaking frog made me realise they had stopped for a time. Moths cover the outside of my tent, moths made of different colours - radient purples, to mostly yellows and pungent browns. Kigoss stirs for a moment as the drilling sound of a motor whirls past. Condensation forms on the inside of my tent, this is life on the Congo, I'm enamoured of the thrill, for whom else will experience this?

Canoeing the Congo: Day 3

24th July 2011

Had such a terrible nights sleep after all the coffee I drank, spent yesterday feeling tired and dejected. Had many aches and pains, while the sun beat me into submission. After spending the mourning paddling, I felt weak and tired after a dip in the river, so I relaxed and let Kigoss paddle for the rest of the day. Thoughts moved toward thinking take someone the entire way, thinking even to make a proposal to Kigoss.

Paddled well after dark. It's a nervous time paddling after dark, never feel safe, always unsure. The night, it comes alive, threats seem very real, the insects appear and the shadows make you jump. Eventually made it to a 'large' town and found a nice spot on the beach next to a bar that sold Primis -result! Was so tired that I fell asleep as soon as I laid down in my tent.

After a good sleep, felt much better; aches and pains had cleared up but the day was roasting hot already. Went to the market to stock up, great place, everything you could need - should try the more exotic foods they had, just need to know how to cook them - caterpillars, snails and some bush meat - not sure what it was though.

Barely paddled today, thought that I'm paying him well enough - why should I. Because of this I realised I would continue alone, I'm not here to be paddled all the way to Kinshasa like a Mzungu, for if I had someone with me, I feel the temptation to let them paddle would be too great -it was also not so much of an adventure.

Thunder stated up near the end of the day, so we parked up next to a small village - it's nice to get to one of these places not so tired & sweaty & with Kigoss to take the attention away from me - I think when I'm on my own, unless the weather turns, I'll try and find a nice quiet beach most nights.

Lisala: Day 2

29th July 2011

I've been stuck in the Congo waiting for what seems an eternity, part of me thinks I should have carried on in the pirogue - it probably would have been quicker but alas, I took the option to travel what was I thought the quickest possible option.

Before arriving in Bumba, I'd cycled perhaps one of the hardest days I'd had, I'd expected an easy day of 100km but it turned into a grueling day of wrong turns, bike trouble and cycling in the dark. Physically I was shattered but mentally I had to carry on, the thought of meeting a Western priest, who would hopefully host me in an accommodating manner kept me going (especially the thought of a Primus beer). Another night spend in a village, subject to intense staring & interest, I could not cope with, so I carried on.

With only a few hours of light, I still had 80km to cycle, on increasingly sandy and tough narrow paths, but when I thought I would almost certainly be cycling for hours and hours alter dark, the path turned into almost a road. I hit top gear and surviving on adrenalin, pounded the miles, and only cycled perhaps an hour in total darkness -aided by a local going in the same direction on his rickety bicycle.

Arriving in Bumba, I eventually met Oliver, who guided me to Père Carlos's Catholic mission, where he was unfortunately absent on leave in Belgium. The welcome was not so forthcoming and I was on the brink of tears -I just needed to be fed & bed - which eventually was forthcoming.

Now began the truly exasperating wait for a boat to Mbandaka. One whole week I waited for the canoe 'rapide' to leave the port on the banks of the Congo in Bumba. Day after day, I was told 'demain, demain'. I truly loathed this place, toward the end of the week I had retreated to my room, unwilling to subject myself to the pains of the outside, where the banter was a constant, where I could not walk two steps without shouts of Mondela & laughs giggles - unbearable after a very short time.

Eventually the boat left very late in the day, true enough the boat did seem fast but I wondered if they would travel by night -it soon became apparent they would not. Lisala was obviously the target where they would try for more passengers but we left too late, they tried to continue in the dark in vein. 'There is no light, they cannot see' I was told, 'incompetent idiots' I muttered. Canoe rapide this was not. We had to spend a terrible night in a small village with some guy snoring for Congo just outside my tent. I awoke feeling shattered, we had only travelled 60km

Lisala was certainly nicer that Bumba, set on a hill with more lush vegetation than barren and dusty Bumba. The welcome at the church was less welcoming than Bumba - no compassion, no heart, all-in-all a very unfriendly bunch. I felt very dejected and angry, I wanted out of this place.

They requested a sky high price for a room with no running water, no electricity, no mosquito net and no food. I asked for a place to camp instead, and was led to a place that resembled a dustbin site. Eventually after waiting for ages, they let me in for a reasonable amount.

The boat did not leave the next day unsurprisingly, and I came back to the Church digs and offered the same as the night before. They said no, but sensibly I had not packed my things up, I was going nowhere. They told me to leave, I refused.