Life in the Democratic Republic of Congo

My 9-year old daughter, Ella and I moved to Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo in August 2014, after I was offered a teaching position at an international school. We packed (far too many) suitcases and headed off to a country that I had only read about, mostly in disparaging newspaper articles about the ongoing civil war in the eastern part of the country.

When we arrived, what we found was a country with a vibrant culture, a generation of people ready and anxious to rebuild and more species of bugs than you could possibly imagine.

Our time in Kinshasa has not been without challenges. D.R. Congo is in the midst of ongoing civil war. While Kinshasa is nearly 1000 miles away from the fighting, it is a large, overcrowded city with poor infrastructure. Poverty and unemployment are very high and this leads to a whole host of other social ills that plague this beautiful nation.

When we arrived, what we found was a country with a vibrant culture, a generation of people ready and anxious to rebuild and more species of bugs than you could possibly imagine.

In January of 2015, peaceful protests against a government effort to sidestep presidential term limits, turned violent and the entire city was essentially locked down for a week as protestors were killed in the streets. In the end, the protests were successful in halting unconstitutional practices.

With elections coming up soon, Kinshasa and the rest of the country are still very much on edge. Pro-democracy activists have been detained. D.R. Congo faces a lot of uncertainties at this time but we have chosen to make it our home for now and will remain. We are learning to love D.R. Congo and hope for peace in the country.

Life in the Democratic Republic of Congo

All of that being said, our life in D.R. Congo has been transformative. Ella has begun learning French and Lingala. She has gained friends from all over the world. I’ve danced to live Congolese rumba at a nightclub where people dance alone, facing mirrored walls, staring at their own reflections.

We’ve gotten matching outfits made in the local pagne fabric. We’ve stood in awe at the crushing beauty of Zongo Falls, eaten some of the best roasted chicken we’ve ever tasted while overlooking Lac de ma Vallee, visited the Lola ya Bobobo Sanctuary and watched in amazement as an endangered (and mischievous) baby bonobo climbed over the fence of its enclosure and jumped into the arms of a fellow coworker.

We are learning to love D.R. Congo and hope for peace in the country.

When I explain our lives to other people I say it’s “Kinshasa sweet and sour.”

A few months ago, Ella had a classmate over for a Saturday play date. We headed to the market to pick up some items and as we were leaving a group of shegues (a Congolese term for young people growing up on the streets) swarmed us. One ripped off the gold chain that Ella’s classmate wore around her neck, and ran off long before we were even able to make sense of what happened.

Another shegue approached us and claimed that he knew who had stolen the necklace and would get it back for us if we paid him $50: a very common scam. I explained that I was not going to pay $50 but that the necklace was very dear to her, as evidenced by the fact that the little girl was crying.

He didn’t seem moved. We got in the car and drove home, as there was very little to be done. Reporting a crime to police in Kinshasa is useless, at best. It often requires bribing the police officer and usually guarantees that the offender will suffer severe physical harm. At the hands of the officer.

He had fought the thief for the chain. He wasn’t able to get the pendant but wanted to return the chain and wanted nothing in return.

The next day, a friend (who I often visit the market with) called. On the phone, he explained he had gone to the same market. Here said that he was approached by Frank. Frank is a shegue who we had gotten to know since August. We often paid 500 francs ($0.56 US) to watch the car. Frank’s hands were badly cut up. He had fought the thief for the chain. He wasn’t able to get the pendant but wanted to return the chain and wanted nothing in return.

And that is our life in Kinshasa…sometimes sweet, sometimes sour…but always satisfying.

Photo credits for Life in the Democratic Republic of Congo by Adiya White Hammond and Unsplash. 

Have you traveled to the Democratic Republic of Congo? How was your trip? Email us at [email protected] for information about sharing you experience and advice with the Pink Pangea community. We can’t wait to hear from you.