The first village we encountered seemed deserted at first, but as soon as we entered the village we saw people coming at us from all sides. They had machetes and sticks and were shouting. "Des Blanc. Argent!" - "White people. Money!". They were all over the place. This was not good! I floored it and sped out of the village. A rock hit the back of our car.You think they would have read some history about the former Belgian Congo before, you know, showing up there with their phones and GPS and expensive cameras and a functioning vehicle and packaged food. If I were Congolese, I'd have asked them for money too. These people are utterly povertystricken, and you think there would have been some sense of shame of self-consciousness here.
What in gods name was that all about?
Very few Congolese had made us feel welcome now, but this was plain agression! It scared the hell out of us. [...] We had the feeling that they were focussing on us, not only because we were in a vehicle, but because of our skin color. Did a white person do something wrong here? Where they trying to seek vengeance? I wouldn't surprise me if a white person in car ran somebody over, or destroyed something and then fled away.
We turned a corner and then get stuck in a bog/river/mud hole. Suddenly, Congolese people appear with shovels and demand money to help them out. But we tell them no and eventually get ourselves out. We don't put up with corruption.So if this is corruption, the tow truck driver who comes to help me when my car breaks down by the side of the road must be a mafia kingpin. I mean, he does ask for money to help me out. And if I refuse, I suspect I'll be staying on the side of the road.
No surprisingly nobody they [sic] offered their assistance, they even had some shovels. But they wanted money first. By now you probably think we are just stupidly stubborn and naive. We probably are, but we refused to give in to corruption. I once again told them they were free to help, but we would not give them money. So I continued to dig on my own with an entire village as an audience.The expect the locals to work for them without compensation, to help them and use their time and energy to dig strangers out of the road. And when the locals ask to be paid for their work, the Belgians become bitter and resentful and describe this as 'corruption'. The arrogance is really beyond belief.
We came across a small motorcycle. You'd see them from time to time, it is the most luxurious transportation people have here. They are litte chinese 50cc (or 125cc) bikes. We stopped to let him pass and he stopped to greet and ask us if we had some oil for his engine.I'd like to unwritten rule this guy upside the head.
All over the world there is an unwritten rule that in remote or difficult to travel areas people help eachother. That is why in the sahara everybody says hi to eachother. That is why in the Mongolian steppe people drive for kilometers just to check up on you. People help when needed as they know they will be helped when they are in need. We very much honour this unwritten rule and will always assist when we can.
So when this guy asks for oil, I do not hesitate and take out a my spare can of oil. I warn him that this is oil for diesel engines, but that does not matter to him. It is probably the best oil he would ever find to put in his little bike. As I am pouring oil from my can in his can the passenger of the bike starts begging with Josephine. I am not impressed when Josephine tells me. And when the bike owner too start to ask for money, it really pisses me off. We are helping this guy and still he begs for more? So I pour the oil out of his can back into mine and tell them to sod off. In our car and off we go.
For almost a month now we were in a serious fight with Congo. We were fighting against corruption. We were fighting against the roads. A constant battle. Congo was giving us a serious beating, but we stood strong and did not give in. Slowly but steadily we were winning this battle against the Congo.
But while we were so busy battling the roads and the corruption, Congo sneaked in from behind. It had transformed us into loud and angry people. With no remorse, no compassion, and a total lack of rules.
What happened to the unwritte rule of the road less travelled? The rule we nohour so much? All out of the door..
Congo had beaten us a long time ago already. Just like it had beaten most of its own citizens.. And we didn't have a clue.
I was in an internet cafe in Antananarivo, Madagascar, when a rather large, bald, and older French man took the computer next to me.(NOT to imply that the people above are rude, derogatory, internet cafe goons -- Ritchie's comment just reminded me of the story, is all.)
Now, this cafe was crowded. There was a line. It was relatively expensive for the average Malagasy. The internet was extremely slow.
The man logged on to the computer next to me and proceeded to spend the next 45 minutes (at least) leaving rude, derogatory comments on YouTube and French newspapers. I couldn't stop laughing. This random man, in the middle of an awesome, exciting country that was undergoing political strife, where there are just so many things to do in a maze of a city - in a crowded, oddly sweaty (for winter), slow internet cafe for money that could have bought him a very nice dinner - felt his time was best spent leaving atrociously misspelled, idiotic comments on YouTube and newspapers.
Who does that?
Every time I see something dumb on the internet, I pretend it's that French expat, just puttering away Teknet. Go on, little French dude. Do your thing. If this is honestly the best use of your time/life, I am pretty happy to be me and not you.
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posted by Artw at 6:26 PM on November 15, 2010