Vanity Fair does the Congo

Reading Vanity Fair’s July article Congo’s Battered Cockpits brought back to life Congo’s chaotic beauty for me. …Though perhaps beauty is not something most people would take away from an article about Congo’s frighteningly unregulated airline industry. The anecdote whose punchline is a plane bellyflopping on Brazza’s runway only to fly again no doubt will bring a nostalgic smile to any ironic soul who’s spent time in the Congo. (I keep my own air travel stories to myself if only to avoid being grounded by mother who occasionally reads this blog.)

But then, Vanity Fair’s article succeeds where most others fail: it creates an realistic image of the Congo without the pity party in tow. From the pillages of the 1990’s to the diamond smuggling back and forth across the Angolan border, one can begin to imagine how things work and don’t work in the Congo. The sense of complete freedom that only comes with the absence of government mixed with the destruction that decades without governance has intertwined itself with each story told.

For my own part, this article reminded me that living in the Congo, however briefly or long, gives one a sense that anything is possible in this world — no matter how outrageous, forgiving, or impossible. The Congo is filled with extremes: riches and poverty, opportunity matched with risk, and hope facing down desolation. Go out and read this one, folks; it’s well worth your time.

As for myself, I’ve been bumming around the US for the last month and am having a pretty good time of it. I’ll be heading to Costa Rica this weekend for a bit of holiday so stay tuned for the tales of woe as I discover that the phrase ‘Donde esta la cerveza?” is not a good substitute for actually speaking Spanish.

A girl’s best friend?

I was having a few beers and roasted goat with some workmates at a Kinshasa terrace last night, when for the first time since I came to Africa, a hawker wandered over to us to display his pricey wares: raw diamonds. Friends from my Namibia days will remember my indignation at having never been offered diamonds (am I that scruffy-looking?!), but in truth, I am not one for glittering rocks.

Amnesty International offers these words on the diamond trade:
To many people, diamonds symbolize love, happiness or wealth. However, for many others, they mean conflict, misery and poverty. In some African countries, such as the Democratic Republic of Congo, profits from the unregulated diamond trade are used to fund armed conflicts. As a result, tens of thousands of civilians have over the past years been killed or tortured and millions have been displaced.

The Kimberly Process of diamond certification was established in 2003 with the intent of preventing the flow of conflict diamonds or blood diamonds that fund into the world diamond market. I’m no expert, but my understanding is that countries which have signed on can certify that the diamonds have been obtained legally and then export them to the international diamond market. Unfortuantely the process is fairly flawed, especially as many of Congo’s neighbours with no mines of their own want to export.

Even beyond illegally-mined diamonds that fuel conflicts are the daily risks taken to exploit legal diamonds. One of my colleagues who comes from the Province Orientale, where the 134 carat diamond* was recently found, explained how the rivers are mined: Divers go down in the rapids to fill bags of sand, which are then pulled up to the surface and sifted though. The divers often die, either because their air hose is not attached correctly or because they get swept farther down the rapids and trapped between rocks.

Many workers have also died recently with the collaspse of several underground mines. In the province of Kasai Oriental, once mine tunnels have been abandoned by mining companies, illegal diggers enter the tunnels, looking for diamonds that may have been missed. It is many of these people, in addition to formal miners, who are killed in such accidents.

When we turned around a few minutes later, our diamond hawking friend was standing next to a large SUV. A Congolese man inside was examining the stones with a jeweler’s eye piece, as we watched from the terrace. I remind myself that Congo is one of the countries signed onto the Kimberly Process and I wonder who exactly it is to decide which pieces of rock get a certificate and where the rest of the stones find themselves.

For this girl, I think I’m going to pass on Elizabeth Taylor’s best friend and go in search of a more amicable relationship.

*Apparently the infamous 134 carat diamond was sold not for $1.4 million as reported but $1.8 million, $400,000 being knocked off the official price to reduce the government’s share of the pie.

Bird on a wire

Do you think Congo is in the clear? a friend asks. He already knows the answer.

After what happened in Matadi a couple of weeks ago (which has incidentally been ‘upgraded’ to somewhat of a massacre), it’s clear that Congo’s future is still hanging in the balance.

On the one hand, new buildings and shops continue to appear in Kinshasa, a sign that someone has faith in this country’s economy. Congo has enough hydroelectric power to keep all of sub-Saharan Africa lit and is probably the richest country on earth in terms of natural resources; no doubt there is money to be made. In fact just last week, Amos Maseko, a local miner north of Kisangani found a 134 carat diamond (for reference, the source of the hot pursuit in the movie Blood Diamonds was probably about 100 carats). Maseko sold it to a Lebanese trader in Kinshasa for $1.4 million.

While the $1.4 million is to be returned in Maseko’s miner’s association, the lack of formal investment in infrastructure of social services continues to be astounding and there is little indication that the near future may change this — if only in that it’s nearly impossible to discern where to begin. The new government, if one is to assume its benevolence, can only accomplish so much in the mandated 5-year term to convince the population of its competence. Particularly when one considers that the sheer magnitude of this place is literally breath-taking, with people emerging from behind every shadow and every tree, every falling shack and every beaten minibus.

Imagine what this place could be 25 years from now, if the Congolese pulled it together.

I pull myself back 25 years, to around the time of the last census, and try to imagine what the Congolese would have predicted for themselves today.