The first year and a half was a roller-coaster emotions and experiences. Since July, however, I seem to have reached some kind of neutral zone, a sort of gentleman's compromise, with Kinshasa: I will never love it, and it will never love me, but I have learned to appreciate the good bits and to live with certain reliably frustrating aspects, and in return it allows me to feel almost at home here, to carve out a tiny, temporary niche for myself where I can relax into a pleasant, if sometimes tedious, routine.
The politics in this country provide material for endless discussions, and I sometimes even muster the energy for outrage. Meanwhile, the seemingly bottomless pit of crazy, outlandish stories that appear to be a daily occurrence here – from hypnotized goal keepers to people with frogs in their legs to the devious Chinese who work only at night so the Congolese don't steal their technology – provides welcome entertainment.
Typical scene in Kinshasa - an overwhelmed traffic cop
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