A dog was dying

Yesterday evening, as I'm waiting for my friend to pick me up, an incredibly skinny and weak dog was lying on the street, under a car, in front of the building where I work. This is a very unusual sight in Kinshasa since cats and dogs are scared of people and you hardly see any on a busy street. You only see them in the middle of the night, if it crosses your car lights.

I knew right away he was dying, there was no other explanation. I bought him bread and gave it to him, he didn't move. I felt bad, all these Congolese around me, watching. I didn't know who among them had had a meal that day. They're going to think I'm a crazy white lady for wasting bread.

I came back to work an hour later to help a colleague out. The dog was now next to the car, exposed. I got a plastic plate and filled with water. His eyes were so scared but he didn't move. He hesitated, moved his head and drank the whole thing. I filled it up again and left. This morning, the dog was gone.

I couldn't stop thinking about the dog, it made me so sad. I don't understand, we see so much poverty every day- street kids, mothers with babies, handicaps, anyone, begging, begging, begging- and I was just filled with sadness for this dog. It just broke my heart.

L'art de la négociation

Au Congo, comme dans la plupart des pays africains, il n'y pas de prix fixe. Tout est relatif, c'est le principe de l'offre et la demande qui domine. Comme tant de produits se vendent selon ce principe, même dans les boutiques, négocier est donc un art. Voici les quelques trucs que j'ai appris:

1) Renseignez-vous au préalable sur les prix approximatifs de ce qui vous intéresse.
2) Dégager une attitude très confiante mais détendue, comme si vous savez exactement ce que vous êtes en train de faire.
3) Demandez le prix et faites une contre-offre en divisant le prix par 2, 5 ou 10, selon le zèle de votre vendeur.
4) Tentez de trouver un juste milieu en sortant tous vos arguments valables, l'expérience passée étant le meilleur d'entre eux.
5) Renseignez vous sur le taux de change en vigueur (francs congolais vs. dollar américain)
6) Concluez l'affaire en sortant l'argent

Voici un extrait de ma négociation ce matin:

Moi: Une caisse de 24 Mutzig (bières), 12 cocas et 12 tonics
Vendeur: Oui Maman, tout de suite
Moi: Combien la Mutzig?
Vendeur: 350 francs chaque
Moi: Ah non! Impossible! J'ai acheté ici à 250
Vendeur: Non, Maman, pas ici. À côté, peut-être, mais pas ici
Moi: Si, si, ici avec Espoir et Elysée. Combien le coca?
Vendeur: 200
Moi: 200?! Je paye 200 au kiosque! Tu n'es pas un kiosque! Allez, 150
Vendeur: Non, maman, pas possible, 200 bon prix
Moi: Oui, possible, je t'achète beaucoup aujourd'hui

La négociation se poursuit puis j'ai un échange très confus sur le taux de change en vigueur avec le vendeur qui fait une panoplie de calculs sur sa calculette. En somme, j'ai payé le tout 8$US de moins que la dernière fois. Tout le monde est content, on se quitte avec des "Bonne journée, aurevoir" et des sourires. Faut croire que je gagne en expérience.

Corruption by the water

After 3 months (already!) in Kinshasa, the honeymoon is definitely over and I am going through a rough adaptation phase. A small vacation is then in order and I decided to take the visiting Boyfriend to Brazzaville for the week-end. It takes 5 minutes by boat to change countries but, turns out, you have to go through the Beach first to board.

As far as corruption, endless bureaucracy and hassle go, nothing beats the Beach, not even the airport. Like many places, you are welcomed by agressive « representatives » that take you through all the steps. When they see two Mindele (whites/Europeans), their eyes light up at the possibility of having hit the jackpot. Our protocols simply showed passports and vaccination cards when required, with the mandatory arguing with the official trying to get money. Nothing we couldn’t do.

Going about with our money, they paid for our exit stamps with our money. Thing is : those are free. After 20 minutes, 3 phone calls to friends for inquiry and extensive arguing with the immigration ladies, we got all our money back and the « representatives » were fired on the spot. Then, we deal with another « representative » (wants money), customs (wants money) and waiting for the boat as your passport disappears in some unseen office. We had to go through this 4 times, twice on each shore.

At the Brazza shore, for extra fun, my purse was also searched bill by bill, piece by piece, by a cop trying to find something to pin on us, in hopes that we would get nervous and pay out. I was also called a racist for refusing the help of a « representative ».

State employees don’t receive their salaries here. The point of having a governmental job is to have a position from which you can receive bribes thereby earning a salary. Such is the reality with all the state positions : traffic cops, airport employees, any ministry employee, etc. Every government service comes with an « extra » tax, the amount of which depending on whether you have a contact or not.

All this you can understand theoretically, but when you actually have to go through the hassle and end up on the boat exhausted and weary of arriving on shore, is it really a vacation?