McKin

I can feel the final weeks of vacation passing too quickly. While it always seems to take awhile to get into the groove of having too much time on my hands, once I find it the time seems to fly. The days become filled with errands and small projects that inevitably turn into all day or even week long affairs.

One of the things I occasionally miss during those hectic trips downtown is the NY gas station. I know, it seems an odd thing to miss. It's about the hot beverages. Since moving to Congo, I have become a die-hard tea drinker but I remember the days of stopping to get a cup of hot, creamy coffee at numerous gas stations spotted around the Hudson Valley. And a bagel with cream cheese. While there are gas stations all around Kin, they are missing the steaming pots of java and bakery items to go with. I've turned to the travel mug, and, most often, taking time to enjoy my breakfast at home before leaving. But there are those moment when a pick-me up cup of joe would be the perfect thing.

While Kinshasa doesn't have fast food drive-thru, (though grilled goat and chicken are available on a kind of walk-thru service) there are plenty of fast food type restaurants. Hungry Lion serves a bit of chicken and a few bakeries offer some breakfast items. There's even a fairly new one that offers something respectably close to the NY bagel. But it's not really on the go, much more of sit down place, especially after fighting traffic and searching for a parking place. Of course, Pain Victoire has a branch in nearly every neighborhood but oh, the lines. It's much too popular for me.

These were the thoughts running through my mind one early morning as I dropped a friend off at work. That's when I had the chance to observe this woman a bit more closely.

A quick streetside breakfast  on the way to work

She appears to be selling bread by the roadside. Upon closer inspection, however, I see she has a little cookstove behind her and a fry pan. Fresh omelets, made to order, ready to go. This man bought an omelet which was placed inside a "mini" loaf of bread. I say mini because it wasn't a full size loaf of bread, but it was huge. I figured a meal like that could last me through breakfast and lunch.  It costs about 1500 FC which is equivalent to a $1.75 or so. An amazing deal. No lines, hearty portions and made before your eyes. Sadly, I didn't see any coffee or tea on offer.

A Battle of Law and Order

While war rages in the east, a different kind of battle is taking over Kinshasa. Kintambo Magasin is often a place of congestion- too many cars, too many people and a collection of crossroads designed to inhibit rather than facilitate the coming together of all these parties. Add to it the occasional surprise road construction project and you have the perfect confection of random chaos. So I was filled with curiosity and wonder when I drove with ease through the normally congested market area and was greeted with quiet, empty streets. I must qualify my description, which I am tempted to continue with ghost-town like qualities, by saying there were still pedestrians taking over the roadway and taxis stopping midstream in search of passengers. It was by no means deserted. However, the central square held simmering remnants of smouldering belongings and the blue uniforms of police flanked with neon yellow crossing vests were roaming in alarming numbers. Something was up.

Kintambo had been home to a small marketplace of vegetable and fruit stands, bread sellers and apple carts. You could usually find ice cream vendors, phone card and money exchange tables and a variety of miscellaneous wares filling the roadside. But not this day. I pondered the disappearance of the street sellers while the drifting smoke lent an ominous feel to the now deserted streets.

After searching a bit online, I found this small report about the city wide action. Several vendors report losing their merchandise to police who either confiscated or burned their wares. Apparently it was a government order intended to clear up the major arteries and create safer, cleaner streets. 

photo by radio okapi - destruction of an outdoor eatery

While trying to quell my initial outrage and search for a reasonable reaction, I conducted a small, informal poll. These results seemed to match comments on the Okapi site. In general, people agree that something needed to be done to make the areas safer for all involved. It is the approach that was lacking. I can't help but empathize with feelings of injustice for the Congolese who have managed to eke out a living....coupled with my previous concern that the influx of supermarkets would overtake whatever business these entrepreneurs had managed to build up.  To say nothing of the fact that the streets, while unarguably less crowded, haven't appeared any cleaner since the demolition.

Kintambo used to look something like this:
Admittedly, this photo shows an area remarkably cleaner and less crowded than the reality. In addition to the walk up buyers, the proximity to passing cars often encouraged a kind of drive by shopping as well.  Now, the once busy women sit dejectedly on the stone steps just across the street, hiding under store front overhangs, leaning hopelessly against the cement walls trying to peddle a few bananas from baskets on their laps. They look lost and homeless.


Something similar happened a few years ago to the vendors at the Marche de Valeur downtown. Their market had been more defined but equally ill placed. It was a dingy, crowded collection of artists and craftspeople set in the center of downtown just by the Gare Central. They were removed, disappeared for awhile as new construction began in the building of a large fountain and vast sitting area. The Marche de Valeur can now be found several blocks further up the boulevard. There is parking, more room to walk, browse and display work and in general a cleaner, safer feel to the whole experience. And so I have been wondering why the same couldn't be done for the marketers in Kintambo. I think back to fond memories of farmer's markets in the U.S. and how parking lots are taken over or whole streets even closed for the weekly event. Of course, one day a week would not be enough for these women and men who spent their days selling and chatting under umbrellas and their nights huddled by kerosene and candle light. (I never could figure out when the market "closed.") But surely there is an area available where people could have been moved to and customers could easily find and continue to support them.

 

Farmer's Markets help everyone- buy local, eat fresh

Just days after the imposition of the new orders, the taxi drivers went on an unheard of two day strike. I conducted another small, informal poll to try and determine their demands. (How would they know when to stop striking? Well, if the pressure of earning a living and providing daily food for their families wasn't so great and they could actually make a sustained statement.) Answers here were much more varied and vague. Many people suggested it had something to do with the demands by police to see the infamous "carte rouge" the rose colored card that proves one is insured. The typical routine is for police to stop, demand and wait for some kind of tip to overlook the fact that a driver may not actually have this card available. Aside from the tipping aspect of this scenario, it reminds me of the inspection stops that seem to pop up near the end of the month in the states. Just as these check-ins are rumored to be caused by police needing to fill a quota of traffic tickets, speculation abound as to the real cause of the strikes. Alex describes it best.

I heard many suggestions that the strike was related to the cost of insurance and the impossibility for acquiring and maintaining it. It's a bit harder to empathize here, as carrying insurance seems a necessity when considering the attitude and outrageous actions of many taxi drivers. Those polled seemed to feel the same way. If you can't afford insurance, you can't afford to drive. My favorite supposed cause for the taxi strike surmised that the drivers were, in fact, supporting the cause of the street vendors and trying to make a statement on their behalf.

Despite my new found addiction to morning boiled plantains being ever harder to fill without the nearby market, I grudgingly admit that change is good. Streets do need to be safer for pedestrians and drivers, motorists do need to carry insurance and the police are the most logical to enforce these rules. But ah, the growing pains of bringing law and order to the wild west.