Arriving in DRC

My first day in the Congo was a day of sitting in various seats while the world moved around me.  I’m not sure why travelling makes people so tired and cranky.  People sit in a chair all day most of the time anyway either in front of a computer or a T.V. Got up early in the morning so I could be fresh and prepared for when Dr. Alecia Lily came by to pick me up.  She is the Vice-President of the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund International and the President of Africa Programs.  However, it turns out that getting up early was a bit optimistic since when the car finally did come round to pick me up it was over three hours late.  When travelling to other countries, I am always aware of the stark contrast between concepts of time.  North America is obsessed with punctuality and getting things done on time.  I have a particularly jumpy personality and so even I am too punctual for most people in Canada.  I have a knack for showing up to things way too early because I am always convinced that the bus into downtown Montreal will never show up and this is most often the case.  Just a side note for anyone interested, I have a deep loathing for the Société de Transport de Montréal.  At any rate, I have no reason to complain about people elsewhere being on Africa time.  Because the DR Congo is not a place for tourists, it’s pretty lucky that Alecia is allowing me to tag along while she visits the programs going on at the Tayna Nature Reserve.

 

 

Getting to Tayna takes time.  It’s about an hour’s drive to the Congolese border from Ruhengeri and about another hour just purchasing the visa and getting through immigration.  Once on the other side, you are in Goma which is a bustling city eclipsed by a volcano and sitting prettily next to Lake Kivu.  There are whole sectors of the city sitting atop black volcanic rock left over from the last time the lava flowed through a few years ago.  The thing that stands out the most in Goma is the sheer amount of UN forces stationed there.  Everywhere you look there is a jumble of blue turbans from the Sikh division of the peacekeepers who are being trucked around the various parts of the city.  While waiting for the car to bring me to the airport, I sat outside my hotel watching peacekeeper after peacekeeper jog by for their morning exercise.  Because of the insecurity occurring within and around the Virunga National Park, the next part of our journey was by plane.  A few hours later we arrived in Butembo where we all piled into a truck to drive the rest of the way.  Now by the time we got to this step, the sun had gone done and this made for an interesting journey.  To say the road was in disrepair is to put it lightly.  There were some holes in the road that were half the size of our vehicle.  Without any seatbelts or even proper seats, we were heaved from one side to the other for the next four hours.

 

 

Looking out the windows was certainly enough to concern anyone not used to the wilderness.  All you could see beside the blackness is the density of the trees.  We were truly in the deepest darkest Africa.  All of a sudden a light was seen in the darkness.  Then the soft sound of drums could be heard in the distance.  As the sound grew louder, voices could be heard as well.  Upon rounding a corner, we saw them: a group of dancers moving to the beat of the drums.  They had apparently been dancing all day waiting for our arrival.

 

After some supper, I settled right into bed.  I had arrived in the unknown.  I eagerly awaited the morning sun.