A thump of a big black fist, from the biggest hand I’ve ever seen, sends dainty teacups and accessories flying. Tea spills from the spout of a beautiful teapot over the silver tray, over the starched white napkins... the silver sugar tongs settle astride the silver tea strainer.
We are in the heart of Africa for this run. Africa’s Africa.
Forget about Africa ‘light’; the safaris in Kenya and Botswana, the wine tours and beaches of the Cape, the winter sun of The Gambia, the edginess and energy of Africa’s New York that is Lagos, the rising Africa of a Kigali or an Accra or a Dakar or an Abidjan...
Sod that! Africa’s Africa. Congo, this is where it’s at...
First light. 0610 hrs, a sticky 23C. We (you and me) are running along the banks of the deepest river in the world, the second longest in Africa. The immense River Congo.
We are in Congo Brazzaville. On the banks of the river on the other side is Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). The two closest capital cities on Earth (forget Rome and the Vatican City).
I’m up for this run this morning. We are heading southwest along a newly concreted corniche.
I’ve read about this place. The highest recommendation on Tripe Advisor. Mami Wata. The ‘mermaid’ is reputedly Brazza's best restaurant. Dinner here tonight, you are all welcome. Bring insect repellent.
We’re heading to one of the most prominent landmarks in ‘Brazza’. A steady 2 km to open with this morning. I’m more fixated on the other side of the river. You see, KInshasa was where it all started for me; my first gig, my first client. It was 1999. I’ll tell you about it over dinner this evening.
Here we are. ‘The Chinese Bridge’. Put another way, and it’s official name, Le Pont du 15 août 1960. This bridge connects central Brazzaville to the Presidential Palace. At 5,500 dib-dobs to the dollar, this boondoggle would probably have cost several billion dib-dobs. Looks good though?
Brazza has oil and a small population, around 5m. As we head back towards downtown along the corniche, a few things about the country. About the size of Italy with 1/10 of the population.
It is bordered by Cameroon and the Central African Republic to the north, DRC to the east, Angola to the south and Gabon to the west. The Atlantic coastline is in the southwest.
Apart from petroleum extraction? Other industry includes lumber, cement, brewing, sugar, soap and palm oil.
It’s quiet. I know today is a public holiday (Thurs 10-May), but it’s quiet everywhere. A few joggers and walkers and the odd green taxi. Brazzaville is Sleepsville.
Let’s see what’s happening downtown?
I must say, it’s clean for an African capital. Plenty of street cleaners in their blue coveralls active around the streets. Plenty of police officers stood around as well.
Standby...
... here come those drums, 30 mins into my running playlist... oh, that bass guitar, Bobby Kimball on vocals. From 1982. Let’s get up on our toes and sing loud and proud on each chorus... it’s addictive, come on...
Ready... take it, Bobby...
Hurry boy, she's waiting there for you
It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
I bless the rains down in Africa (we’re on backing - I bless the rain)
I bless the rains down in Africa
(I bless the rain)
I bless the rains down in Africa
I bless the rains down in Africa
(Ah, gonna take the time)
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had
Brilliant...
Oh, there's a statue of the Big Banana (Denis).
Here are my digs, which, by the way, are excellent. The Radisson Blu Brazza. Come on, let’s get brekkie. Oh, just under 40 mins for the run this morning. Around 7.5 km.
1930 hrs. Back to Mami’s. Dinner looking over into Kinshasa. Several chilled Congolese beers, lashings of mozzie juice, and of course you for company.
These local beers are damn good. Easy tiger, they are making you emotional, all melancholic about the passing of time (get a grip)...
Flashback...
Sept 1999. A vertically challenged idiot of a client. My first ever client. ‘Get Shorty’ wears Cuban heels. He’s American/Israeli.
A South African, his former business partner, has threatened to kill Shorty if he steps foot in Kinshasa again. This little pearl is revealed after the midpoint of our jaunt through Jo’Burg, Lusaka, Kitwe, Harare, Katanga Province, and Kinshasa. Shorty tells me the South African has form.
A private Lear jet and two continually moaning white South African pilots (the difference between a South African pilot and a jet engine? The engine eventually stops whining.)
A security advisor on his first private gig (moi) with no luggage courtesy of BA; an advisor who’s wearing some strange local ensembles, some more suited to Hawaii.
President Laurence Kabila of the DRC.
Ministers from the DRC - er, none.
President Kabila’s Cuban trained bodyguard with slitty eyes who looks like he could kill with either end of an AK47, and enjoy it.
The DRC Presidential Palace.
Tea served with an elegant bone china tea set. Helped by a waiter wearing a crisp white tunic with brass buttons.
A business proposal presented that isn’t music to President Kabila’s ears.
Get Shorty is wholly owned by Kabila, a massive man with an aura to match. He’s shaken down to his Cuban straps.
A further attempt to resurrect the deal by the idiot. Not music to anyone’s ears, including mine.
Two big black fists this time. Table survives another fierce strike, now awash with tea. Kabila upset. Kabila insulted. Kabila raises voice. Slitty’s eyes narrow even further. Client panics, can’t talk... (makes a pleasant change). No one plays mum, there will be no tea. Not today. Pity, the security advisor has his design on those silver tongs as a small keepsake. When in Congo...
Attempt to leave the country. Try to calm and reassure the Short One. Realise I’m on Kabila’s side. Realise I’m not doing this line of work anymore. Realise the South African former partner has a point.
Blocked from boarding the executive jet by Slitty eyes (he enjoys his work, I admire that) and about a dozen well-armed soldiers.
Uh-oh, Slitty does speak English. Explains we ‘should’ return to the hotel. The President is concerned for our safety (join the club) as our flight plan is over troubled Angola. The short one loses the plot entirely.
I push my arm out waist high to restrain him, it brushes Shorty on the forehead. I thank the President, His Excellency, through Slitty, for his safety concerns, and of course, we will return to the InterCon (while we have a choice). We will continue on our merry way when the President says it’s safe.
Back at the hotel. Shorty is calmer. He instructs me (his confidence sadly returning), to inform the American, the British, and the Israeli Embassies we have been kidnapped (a bit strong Short One, I’d prefer to use the term detained).
Security Advisor rings no-one.
All we need now is for the crazed South African assassin to make a cameo appearance.
Clandestine meetings take place well into the night. We are permitted to leave a couple of days later.
A parched deserted runway in Harare. We shake hands. The Short One is flying to meet his wife for a holiday. We craft our parting words. “Short One, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”
Sorry, went all Bogie there. In reality, “Thanks for everything. Mark, you handled yourself well in Congo. Why don’t you work for me full time?”
I bend down, “I’m not sure; what would it look like (I’d rather sit through a Jim Davidson show, or see Celine Dion in concert three nights running), I could consider it?”
“Well, I’m based mostly in New York, whatever they pay you in the army I’ll pay you 50% on top.”
Nodding, “OK (you little tight arse. The army is a vocation and nothing to do with dib-dobs), perhaps send me something to look at and we can talk...”
Memories. Woah, is that the time? Let’s walk back to the Raddy together. Occasionally, I think back to Congo of 1999. Sometimes it only takes a trigger. Strangely, this can be when I’m reaching for the sugar lumps...
When in Congo...
Thank you for reading. Before you go, I have a favour to ask. If you’ve enjoyed this post, please pass on (Facebook etc.) and do leave a comment. Merci.
We are in the heart of Africa for this run. Africa’s Africa.
Forget about Africa ‘light’; the safaris in Kenya and Botswana, the wine tours and beaches of the Cape, the winter sun of The Gambia, the edginess and energy of Africa’s New York that is Lagos, the rising Africa of a Kigali or an Accra or a Dakar or an Abidjan...
Sod that! Africa’s Africa. Congo, this is where it’s at...
First light. 0610 hrs, a sticky 23C. We (you and me) are running along the banks of the deepest river in the world, the second longest in Africa. The immense River Congo.
We are in Congo Brazzaville. On the banks of the river on the other side is Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). The two closest capital cities on Earth (forget Rome and the Vatican City).
I’m up for this run this morning. We are heading southwest along a newly concreted corniche.
I’ve read about this place. The highest recommendation on Tripe Advisor. Mami Wata. The ‘mermaid’ is reputedly Brazza's best restaurant. Dinner here tonight, you are all welcome. Bring insect repellent.
We’re heading to one of the most prominent landmarks in ‘Brazza’. A steady 2 km to open with this morning. I’m more fixated on the other side of the river. You see, KInshasa was where it all started for me; my first gig, my first client. It was 1999. I’ll tell you about it over dinner this evening.
Here we are. ‘The Chinese Bridge’. Put another way, and it’s official name, Le Pont du 15 août 1960. This bridge connects central Brazzaville to the Presidential Palace. At 5,500 dib-dobs to the dollar, this boondoggle would probably have cost several billion dib-dobs. Looks good though?
Brazza has oil and a small population, around 5m. As we head back towards downtown along the corniche, a few things about the country. About the size of Italy with 1/10 of the population.
It is bordered by Cameroon and the Central African Republic to the north, DRC to the east, Angola to the south and Gabon to the west. The Atlantic coastline is in the southwest.
Apart from petroleum extraction? Other industry includes lumber, cement, brewing, sugar, soap and palm oil.
It’s quiet. I know today is a public holiday (Thurs 10-May), but it’s quiet everywhere. A few joggers and walkers and the odd green taxi. Brazzaville is Sleepsville.
Let’s see what’s happening downtown?
I must say, it’s clean for an African capital. Plenty of street cleaners in their blue coveralls active around the streets. Plenty of police officers stood around as well.
Standby...
... here come those drums, 30 mins into my running playlist... oh, that bass guitar, Bobby Kimball on vocals. From 1982. Let’s get up on our toes and sing loud and proud on each chorus... it’s addictive, come on...
Ready... take it, Bobby...
Hurry boy, she's waiting there for you
It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
I bless the rains down in Africa (we’re on backing - I bless the rain)
I bless the rains down in Africa
(I bless the rain)
I bless the rains down in Africa
I bless the rains down in Africa
(Ah, gonna take the time)
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had
Brilliant...
Oh, there's a statue of the Big Banana (Denis).
Here are my digs, which, by the way, are excellent. The Radisson Blu Brazza. Come on, let’s get brekkie. Oh, just under 40 mins for the run this morning. Around 7.5 km.
1930 hrs. Back to Mami’s. Dinner looking over into Kinshasa. Several chilled Congolese beers, lashings of mozzie juice, and of course you for company.
These local beers are damn good. Easy tiger, they are making you emotional, all melancholic about the passing of time (get a grip)...
Flashback...
Sept 1999. A vertically challenged idiot of a client. My first ever client. ‘Get Shorty’ wears Cuban heels. He’s American/Israeli.
A South African, his former business partner, has threatened to kill Shorty if he steps foot in Kinshasa again. This little pearl is revealed after the midpoint of our jaunt through Jo’Burg, Lusaka, Kitwe, Harare, Katanga Province, and Kinshasa. Shorty tells me the South African has form.
A private Lear jet and two continually moaning white South African pilots (the difference between a South African pilot and a jet engine? The engine eventually stops whining.)
A security advisor on his first private gig (moi) with no luggage courtesy of BA; an advisor who’s wearing some strange local ensembles, some more suited to Hawaii.
President Laurence Kabila of the DRC.
Ministers from the DRC - er, none.
President Kabila’s Cuban trained bodyguard with slitty eyes who looks like he could kill with either end of an AK47, and enjoy it.
The DRC Presidential Palace.
Tea served with an elegant bone china tea set. Helped by a waiter wearing a crisp white tunic with brass buttons.
A business proposal presented that isn’t music to President Kabila’s ears.
Get Shorty is wholly owned by Kabila, a massive man with an aura to match. He’s shaken down to his Cuban straps.
A further attempt to resurrect the deal by the idiot. Not music to anyone’s ears, including mine.
Two big black fists this time. Table survives another fierce strike, now awash with tea. Kabila upset. Kabila insulted. Kabila raises voice. Slitty’s eyes narrow even further. Client panics, can’t talk... (makes a pleasant change). No one plays mum, there will be no tea. Not today. Pity, the security advisor has his design on those silver tongs as a small keepsake. When in Congo...
Attempt to leave the country. Try to calm and reassure the Short One. Realise I’m on Kabila’s side. Realise I’m not doing this line of work anymore. Realise the South African former partner has a point.
Blocked from boarding the executive jet by Slitty eyes (he enjoys his work, I admire that) and about a dozen well-armed soldiers.
Uh-oh, Slitty does speak English. Explains we ‘should’ return to the hotel. The President is concerned for our safety (join the club) as our flight plan is over troubled Angola. The short one loses the plot entirely.
I push my arm out waist high to restrain him, it brushes Shorty on the forehead. I thank the President, His Excellency, through Slitty, for his safety concerns, and of course, we will return to the InterCon (while we have a choice). We will continue on our merry way when the President says it’s safe.
Back at the hotel. Shorty is calmer. He instructs me (his confidence sadly returning), to inform the American, the British, and the Israeli Embassies we have been kidnapped (a bit strong Short One, I’d prefer to use the term detained).
Security Advisor rings no-one.
All we need now is for the crazed South African assassin to make a cameo appearance.
Clandestine meetings take place well into the night. We are permitted to leave a couple of days later.
A parched deserted runway in Harare. We shake hands. The Short One is flying to meet his wife for a holiday. We craft our parting words. “Short One, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”
Sorry, went all Bogie there. In reality, “Thanks for everything. Mark, you handled yourself well in Congo. Why don’t you work for me full time?”
I bend down, “I’m not sure; what would it look like (I’d rather sit through a Jim Davidson show, or see Celine Dion in concert three nights running), I could consider it?”
“Well, I’m based mostly in New York, whatever they pay you in the army I’ll pay you 50% on top.”
Nodding, “OK (you little tight arse. The army is a vocation and nothing to do with dib-dobs), perhaps send me something to look at and we can talk...”
Memories. Woah, is that the time? Let’s walk back to the Raddy together. Occasionally, I think back to Congo of 1999. Sometimes it only takes a trigger. Strangely, this can be when I’m reaching for the sugar lumps...
When in Congo...
Thank you for reading. Before you go, I have a favour to ask. If you’ve enjoyed this post, please pass on (Facebook etc.) and do leave a comment. Merci.
I really like your content it is really very inspiring for I guess I have selected a mind blowing and interesting blog.BirjuThakker
ReplyDeleteGreat writing Mark. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
ReplyDelete