Keeping busy

It makes perfect sense to me that before they can walk, babies should be taken everywhere, preferably carried in a sling, and allowed to observe their mother’s everyday activities, without becoming the focus of these activities. I think back to the babies I saw in Africa, strapped to their mother’s back, while she fetched water, tended her crops, went to the market, prepared food, washed clothes, gathered firewood, and generally went about her busy life. I don’t think I ever saw a baby cry, who was carried in this way.

The difficulty for us Western women living in a Taylorist society, is that our lives have been organised to reduce our daily ‘chores’ to a bare minimum, so that we are better able to focus on our jobs. We have supermarkets and washing machines, running water and central heating. For many of us, most of our waking day is taken up by an activity – work – that we are then unable to share with our baby when he or she is born. I might have been able to resume a job that involved constant motion, since my baby would sleep for hours on the move, in the sling, but certainly not one that required sitting for hours on end, at a computer or in meetings.

This is why having a baby in our Western society is such a fundamental change, and for the mother in particular, a major shift in identity. Overnight, almost every aspect of your day becomes utterly unrecognisable. Even once the blur of endless feedings and sleepless nights of those first few weeks is over, and you start to feel ready to reengage with the outside world, it’s impossible to pick up where you left off.

So on the one hand, you’ve got a baby who’s happiest in the arms of a busy person, and on the other, you’ve got a mother, often isolated from her friends and family, who is desperate for stimulation and company. The result? In London at least, an amazingly endless stream of activities targeted at new mums: breastfeeding cafés, NCT tea groups, baby playgroups, baby massage, baby yoga, jelly baby (swimming), sing & sign (sign language), monkey music, baby theatre, little movers (dance), storytelling, and even ‘power pramming’… Not to mention all the free workshops: using ‘real’ nappies, weaning, dental hygiene for babies…

It’s the stuff that would have made me cringe with horror a mere 6 months ago, and yet it’s what has been keeping me sane and cheerful these last few weeks. And I must admit that O. loves it, if grins are anything to go by.

Resurrection

I started this blog as a means of keeping in touch with friends and family whilst in Kinshasa, so it came to a natural end when I moved back to London. Now it’s been almost a year since my last post, and in the meantime I’ve embarked on a whole new adventure: motherhood. I haven’t quite decided whether to resurrect Nayembi or leave her to rest. It’s a surprisingly time-consuming thing to keep up, and I’m not sure who I’d be doing it for.

A tam-tam country

It has become traditional, now, for all my end-of-posting return trips to have some nightmarish element to them.

When I left Honduras in 2003, my flight to London was cancelled, and I had to hitch a ride back into town, sharing the back of a pick-up truck with the mariachi band F had hired to bid me an unforgettable goodbye. I missed my connecting flight to Nice and had to purchase a new ticket. The next day, I arrived in London to the news that this flight to Nice had also been cancelled. Determined to make it in time to surprise my brother on his eighteenth birthday, I bought a third ticket with another company for the following day. That plane was in turn delayed, which meant I had to sprint across Milan Airport with all my luggage, following a frazzled stewardess in a tight green miniskirt and needle thin, five-inch heels, in order to make the connection. I did make it to the party eventually.

On my last evening in Jordan in 2005, some complete loser spiked my drink, which on an empty stomach and after a couple sleepless nights was absolutely lethal. I spent the next two hours collapsed on the marble floor of a Sheraton loo (having had the presence of mind to lock myself in when I realised something was seriously wrong), before being rescued by my friends, carried home (literally), put to bed, my last unpacked bits and pieces hastily stuffed into my suitcases, woken up four hours later and sent off in a taxi to the airport. I somehow managed to board the plane, but then spent the entire flight vomiting at the back, listening to the flight attendants’ incessant gossip while one of them patiently handed me paper bag after paper bag.

By comparison, my departure from Kinshasa should have been a piece of cake.

After checking twice and being assured that the baggage allowance for my Brussels Airlines flight was of two bags of 23 kilos each, I arrived at the city check-in sometime in the afternoon to be told categorically and unapologetically that, since my final destination was London Heathrow, my baggage allowance was, in fact, one 23-kilo bag. My objection that they were the ones to have misled me and that at this late stage there was really very little I could do (since I was leaving the country definitively) went entirely unheeded, with the unhelpful response that since my connecting flight was with British Airways, this was not their problem (even though I bought the ticket through Brussels Airlines).

An hour of heated discussion ensued, the woman’s uncompromising and rude behaviour working us up into an unnecessary – and ultimately unproductive – frenzy. Pride and anger made us leave in a huff, but in the end I had to go to the airport early to check in there, and pay the excess baggage allowance of $120 after all.

The flight itself was fairly unremarkable, apart from the extraordinary number of babies all around me, but when I arrived in Brussels I was told…that my BA flight to London had been cancelled. So I had to battle my way against the flow of Monday-morning travellers, from the gate back to the departure hall, where I was given a new ticket for a different flight with BMI, then had to queue up for immigration and security all over again. Only to discover that the BMI flight was delayed too.

When, in a small, exhausted voice I asked the BA officer whether there would be any compensation for the cancelled flight, she handed me a voucher for 3 euros, redeemable at one of the airport cafés. When I told her about the episode with the baggage allowance, adding that Brussels Airlines had suggested that BA was to blame, she answered that in fact, BA accepted other airlines’ baggage restrictions when tickets were booked through them, so they shouldn’t have made me pay extra after all. “Vous savez, c’est encore un peu tam-tam là-bas,” she added conspiringly, completely oblivious to my astonishment (untranslatable).

And that, my friends, was the absurd remark that drew the line under more than 27 months of continually unpredictable and surprising life in Kinshasa: c’est encore un peu tam-tam là-bas.

Sexy Love

On recommendation from a good friend of ours, F tried to book a table at this romantic and aptly named Valentine’s Day dinner venue.

Photo by Vikky Bullock

Unfortunately, they were fully booked, so we sat at home and watched Supernanny Jo Frost bully a fiendish five year old into submission instead.

P.S: For reasons too complicated to go into right now, we actually celebrate Valentine’s Day on 15 February.

All hail buckets and head torches

What should this fact tell you: The Congo River drains more than 1.3 million square miles, and, over a mere 220 miles, it descends nearly a thousand feet..?

Two things, I would suggest:

1. There is no water shortage in the Congo, at least not in the vicinity of the river.
2. There is no electricity shortage in the Congo, given the river’s incredible, unrivalled hydroelectric power.

Wrong, and wrong again.

Today we celebrate a welcome (if overdue) occasion: the return of running water after almost ten days without. Now it’s true that no African experience is possibly complete without its fair share of cold rainwater bucket showers, basin flushes and mineral water teeth brushing, and it certainly makes one more understanding of colleagues who on occasion smell rather less than fresh in the morning. Still, I was overjoyed to come home tonight to the long-awaited news that I could finally indulge in both washing my hair and pooing, without fear of running out of water.

Our 70's style bathtub

But then, just as I was basking in the luxury of lathering my hands under the tap, whilst mentally composing an ecstatic text message to our friends who so kindly allowed us to use their showers when we were reaching desperation point, I heard a frustratingly familiar click, followed by the inevitable pitch blackness. When it’s not one, it’s the other.

So now, there’s only one thing left for me to do: go take a shower while I still can.

Turmoil amongst magistrates

Too much detail for most of you, but some may be interested in the latest instalment in the ongoing tripartite tug-of-war between the judiciary, the executive and the legislature.

On Friday President Kabila announced out of the blue, seemingly without consulting anyone (except presumably the Minister of Justice), the immediate retirement of 92 magistrates (who were either over 65 or had been magistrates for 35+ years), thus making space for the promotion of 26 others. This includes the country’s top magistrate (First President of the Supreme Court of Justice) and top public prosecutor (Attorney General). It is seen by some as an unapologetic political manoeuvre by the President to promote his sympathisers within the judiciary ahead of major reforms due to be voted at the next Parliamentary sitting, thus positioning them for top posts in the new institutional set-up.

Understandably, the announcement has caused a lot of discontent and unrest amongst the magistrates, including those who were promoted (but are embarrassed about how it happened, saying it undermines their authority). After thirty-five years of service, some of the country’s most senior, highly respected magistrates discovered while watching television that they were effectively out of a job, with a pension of $300 per month to live on. Although the Presidency says it is a logical step given the advanced age of these magistrates, the way in which the decision was announced made it look to everyone like they were being sanctioned. Not to mention that there isn’t anyone to replace them, since there hasn’t been a recruitment exercise in over ten years.

At best, this is an example of terrible human resource management; at worst, it is a clear, conscious manipulation by the Presidency of a temporary institutional vaccuum in order to effectively breach the Constitution.

Perhaps this explains why the same magistrates were rushing home in a panic last week claiming that there had been a coup!

More from Radio Trottoir

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If there is one thing I seem to report on over and over again, it is Kinshasa’s endless rumours and speculation.

After the preposterous story of the impending British invasion, since Friday we have been assailed by rumours of a coup attempt, which then turned into rumours of the President’s death (no less). The failure of both Joseph and his wife Olive to attend last Sunday’s massive celebrations at the stadium in honour of the new Archbishop Monseigneur Monsengwo confirmed the rumours’ truth in many people’s minds, to the point where they started exchanging news of where the President’s remains might be (South Africa).

This morning, the local newspapers (e.g. Le Potentiel) reported yesterday’s vehement denial by the Secretary General of the PPRD, Kabila’s party, who insisted that the President was in perfect health and that the rumours were a shameless plot to destabilise the state. But of course, there’s nothing like saying that something is a lie to set the tongues wagging. Especially when only six years ago, the same country was swayed to and fro for 48 hours with rumours and counter-rumours of the assassination of then President Laurent Désiré Kabila, father of the current President – one rumour that turned out to be true. (See this l’Internaute timeline for the 2001 rumours that became truth.)

“There’s no smoke without fire,” they say. So in this case, assuming the President is alive, what on earth started the fire?

I must admit that, after playing it very cool for days and refusing to be flustered by these absurdly tall tales, even I found myself contributing (modestly) to the traffic of concerned messages today, when I heard that Supreme Court judges were abandoning their offices and rushing home in a panic, calling over their shoulder that “this time it’s for real.” One of them must have wanted to get out of work early!

Jinxed

Just in case anyone thought that the Kivus hadn’t had more than their fair share of calamity, two earthquakes (of respectively 6.0 and 5.0 magnitude) hit Bukavu (and Rwanda) this morning.
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Rumour gone crazy

The peace agreement did get signed, on 24 January. Four days later came the first report of a ceasefire violation: CNDP (Nkunda’s people) accused PARECO and some Mai Mai groups of attacking and robbing villagers. Still, I don’t want to sound too cynical – the agreement surely represents a great opportunity, and I’m certain all those who were present at the Goma conference (starting with MONUC’s new boss, Alan Doss) are only too aware of the challenges that lie ahead.

Meanwhile, Kinshasa, city of rumours and startling tales, has reverted to form, in a frenzy of mobile phone text messages reminiscent of the electoral period.

First came the rumours, starting on Tuesday and escalating on Thursday, that British forces based in Brazzaville were about to invade Kinshasa. Some said the British had received advance notice of an upcoming attempt to destabilise the government: one text message circulating amongst the Congolese in Kinshasa read, “The British have arrived in Brazzaville to evacuate the Westerners living in Kinshasa. We have been told to get out before things get rough.” Others (including, I am told, one local newspaper that I haven’t yet managed to track down) claimed the British troops were there to help their Rwandan Tutsi allies take power in DRC.

Then, on Friday, new rumours spread of a crisis at President Kabila’s office in Palais de la Nation. Some even claim gunshots were heard. It seems that the Republican Guard were protesting because they did not receive their month’s pay. But of course, some leapt to the inevitable conclusion that the predicted British invasion had begun. Whatever really happened, it was enough to keep Kabila from traveling to the African Union summit in Addis Ababa as planned.

The rumours about the impending British invasion of Kinshasa were based on the signing of an agreement between the governments of Great Britain and Congo-Brazzaville, allowing British troops to land at the airport in Brazzaville in the event that an evacuation of its citizens in either Brazzaville or Kinshasa was deemed necessary for security reasons.

To sign or not to sign?

For more than two weeks, over 1300 participants representing the government, parliament, civil society, ethnic groups and rival armed factions have been talking in Goma. The outcome of these complex, seemingly interminable negotiations is an agreement, announced on Monday but yet to be fully agreed and signed, that is said to provide for an immediate ceasefire, the withdrawal of rebel troops from certain areas due to become a UN-patrolled buffer zone, the disarmament of Nkunda’s men and Mai Mai fighters and their integration into the national army (something that was attempted before but failed), and, in exchange, amnesty on insurrection charges (which would have carried the death penalty) for the rebels. What the rebels didn’t get – which wasn’t in the government’s power to bestow – is amnesty for war crimes and crimes against humanity.

The obvious question is where this agreement leaves General Nkunda, who as far as anyone knows is still refusing to go into exile. On Monday le Soft International mentioned a secret deal whereby the government would nominate him as commander of the 8th military region, which includes North Kivu province. This would naturally piss off the Mai Mai.

The other key point on which the agreement seems to be silent is the FDLR. According to an article in the New York Times, the government and diplomats are quick to respond that the Goma peace agreement should be seen to go hand in hand with the pact signed in Nairobi between the Congolese and Rwandan governments at the end of last year, committing them to disarming and repatriating the Rwandan Hutu militias.

Today, I heard on RFI that after tweaking the agreement all night, the final sticking point was its title and whether the government should appear as a party to the agreement at the same level as Nkunda’s CNDP (CNDP position), or merely as an observer (government position). Let’s hope they come to an agreement soon; while these discussions take place villagers continue to suffer and die, in what some conference participants insisted should be declared a “disaster zone” (AFP).

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Year of the dog?

We’re back in Kinshasa, after a rather lazy holiday, for our final stint here. Yes, it’s official, this is D-day minus 51. On 1 March we will be leaving and heading back to London for a bit; you know, take stock, breathe deeply, recharge the batteries…

So, as is wont to happen in these cases, I find myself noticing all the little things around me that make up this intense world we are temporarily a part of, starting with the inimitable Kinois newspaper.

Newspapers here are sold primarily by street vendors who tempt passing drivers with glimpses of the headlines. So the name of the game is to have an alluring front page. The more popular newspapers usually have a cartoon or an alluring photo, but this paper has clearly chosen to make insipid headlines seem more exciting through using exclamation points.

You may have noticed the toe-curling headline bottom left, which translates to “Kasai Occidental: Women savour dog meat.” According to the article, whilst in Kasai Oriental province only courageous men eat dog meat, in neighbouring Kasai Occidental it is the women and youth who now rush to the street stalls and scuffle for this favourite of victuals. Vendors are searching every street corner for dogs to kill and cook, and unsurprisingly these are proving increasingly rare. The fashion is also spreading to Tshangu district in Kinshasa, where thousands are reported to consume dog meat.

Merry Christmas

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Death of a tumbu

My more faithful readers will recall a little incident involving a writhing maggot, my left bum cheek, Vaseline experiments and a badly infected abscess, all ending rather unhappily with a scalpel incision and a Christmas holiday spent changing dressings. Well, almost a year to the day, the Christmas worm came back (or, more likely, a cousin of his).

Here is a picture of the fiend, after F. laboriously (and painfully!) squeezed it out of my right shoulder blade, where it had elected temporary residence. The Q-tip is for scale.

The procedure involved a Congolese product called Ichthammol, a sulfur-based ointment which looks and smells like tar and is meant to help draw out infections. The doctor recommended it after assuring me that I didn’t have a tumbu (also known as putzi) in my shoulder, just an infected boil (different doctor, same erroneous diagnosis as last year).

So F. innocently dabbed my shoulder with the stuff, and next thing you know there’s a little white head bobbing repulsively in and out. Clearly our little squatter did not appreciate his lair being suddenly flooded by a toxic ointment, nor his air hole being blocked. So much for ‘no tumbu’!

I would rather not recall what happened over the next fifteen minutes – a lot of Eeeweughs! from F. and Yeeowwaas! from me – but the outcome was a swift, unsympathetic eviction, followed by a quick photo session and final drowning by Johnny Walker (yes, the thing was still alive and squirming when I took the picture!).

Bon appétit!

Interlude: from Bali to Kakamigahara via Mount Rushmore

According to the radio this morning (RFI), the UN climate change conference in Bali isn’t really going anywhere. The hope was that by now (11.30 GMT), delegates would have mapped out a two-year process to agree a set of emissions cuts to replace the current Kyoto Protocol targets. The Times reports that “the proposal, supported by the EU and Brazil, would have set out in writing an ambition to cut greenhouse gases produced by industrialised countries by up to two fifths in the next 13 years. The emissions cut would have been non-binding and subject to future negotiation, but even this was too much for the US, which opposes any reference to specific numerical goals in advance of more detailed negotiations next year.” So it appears that the best we can currently hope for is a compromise that would keep the US at the negotiating table just long enough for Bush to be replaced in 2009 by a more environmentally-conscious president.

Teaching my Suzuki how to swim

The rains in Kinshasa have caused the roads to deteriorate severely

Meanwhile, the Telegraph used the Carbon Footprint calculator to estimate how many trees would have to be planted to offset conference carbon emissions: 136,987.

According to a report from IBM Global Business Services, picked up by Environmental Leader, sixty-seven percent of consumers polled across six countries (Australia, Germany, Japan, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom and the United States) would be willing to pay more for eco-friendly energy. True, most of these would only be willing to pay 5 percent more, and cost and quality were still considered more important than environmental concerns, but the Americans, surprisingly, were the most willing to pay a sizable premium, up to an additional 20 percent or more.

I remember seeing one of the Diesel “Global Warming Ready” ads in the US last year, and, while admitting that it was clever, also thinking that one day our children would be amazed at how oblivious, even insensitive, our generation had been. Imagine if at the beginning of the 20th century, Coco Chanel or the Tirocchi sisters had launched a “World War Ready” advertising campaign showing women carrying bayonet-mounted rifles over costly garments designed to show off their tightly corseted torsos.

Advertlog

(For a full discussion of whether Diesel meant its satire of global warming to be sarcastic or to raise awareness, read this Washington Post article, in which I also discovered that Ben & Jerry's ice cream has been pushing a campaign to "Lick Global Warming".)

Finally, in case you’re feeling guilty about how much energy your Christmas lights are consuming this year, here is one idea: at the Aqua Toto Gifu aquarium in Kakamigahara, Japan, the Christmas tree is powered by…an electric eel! According to the Mainichi Daily News, each time the eel touches a conductive copper wire installed in its tank, a surge of electric power lights up the globes in the tree.

As for me, I was embarrassed to discover that my Carbon Footprint for 2007 is estimated at no less than 17.250 tonnes of CO2! By comparison, the average for the DRC is 0.04 tonnes, for the world is 4 tonnes and for industrialised nations is 11 tonnes. I look forward to the day when planes will be flown on renewable energy. In the meantime, I better get planting…

Solution, anyone?

The DRC is now firmly in the mainstream international press. This article in NY Times provides a good update of the ever-evolving situation in North Kivu.

Following the early army successes, many people in North Kivu dared to hope that a swift victory was at hand and some were already preparing a victory march. Humanitarian workers feared for Tutsi civilians, in whose name General Nkunda claims to be fighting. But now the tables have turned again, and Nkunda’s men have retaken Mushake (only 40km from Goma) and Karuba, while Sake had to be defended by the UN. If the army fails, it would be a disaster for President Kabila, whose popularity in the east is in freefall.

“Humility is the only certain defence against humiliation,” they say.

It is hard to imagine what a solution might look like: Nkunda wants to retain his little fiefdom in the hills of North Kivu, which understandably Kabila is unwilling to allow, if only because it would anger other ex-militia leaders who agreed to integrate their men into the national army.

Meanwhile, the UN is in (too) deep, with 4,500 blue helmets fighting alongside the national army in North Kivu. Other partners fighting alongside the Congolese army include the FDLR (ex-Rwandan Hutu militia), which some fear will provoke the Rwandan government to invade the DRC. Meanwhile, the army Chief of Staff General Kayembe is on a five-day visit to Angola to discuss “cooperation in the military field,” according to Angola Press.

Painted sign on the wall of the Provincial Inspectorate in Goma,
commissioned in 2006 by the ex-Provincial Inspector for North Kivu,
who has now been moved to some backwater post
(the sign may have been painted over by his replacement)

A bad year for gorillas

Unless you have privileged access to UN situation reports, it’s very difficult from Kinshasa to know how the situation is evolving in North Kivu. In my hunger for information, I started to read some of the blogs, such as this one from the rangers at Virunga National Park.

I discovered that this really hasn’t been a good year for gorillas in Virunga:

· In January, two gorillas were killed and eaten.

· In June, alongside guarantees that Brad did not cheat on Jennifer with Angelina, the Daily Mail published a heart-wrenching article about a baby mountain gorilla called Ndakasi who’d been found clinging to her ‘executed’ mother. A nearby trail of blood suggested that a second gorilla had also been shot.

· In July, four members of the Rugendo Family were killed, as reported (and eloquently photographed) by Paulin at Wildlife Direct.


· In August, the BBC reported that the remains of a female gorilla called Macibiri had been found, and that her infant had undoubtedly also been killed or died alone.

According to a journalist reporting in the Daily Telegraph, a total of ten gorillas were killed this year.

North Kivu update

The first day of fighting seemed to go Nkunda’s way, but since yesterday the tables have started to turn back in the government’s favour.

While F. waited patiently in Masisi for a UN helicopter to take him to relative safety, I was privy to an hour-by-hour account of the slow but steady advance of the Congolese Army from Sake (30 km northwest of Goma) to Mushake (40 km from Goma, on the road to Masisi). The heaviest fighting today was in Mushake, and when it was confirmed this afternoon that the town had been taken by the Army, I started to wonder how long it would take them to get to Masisi. Thankfully, F. is now back in Goma.

News from the other main axis to Rutshuru, 150 km north of Goma, is far more opaque. On Monday, Nkunda’s men had taken control of Army positions in Kikuku and Nyanzale, including their vehicles and ammunition. I haven’t heard whether or not those positions have been taken back, which suggests they haven’t, since the government is quick to proclaim its victories.

In Kinshasa, speculation continues about whether or not Nkunda is being protected by influential members of the government, whether or not he is backed by Rwanda, whether the conflict has unofficially escalated to become a regional – some even say global – affair…

International coverage, however, remains patchy. Whilst the Guardian and others picked up an AP report on Condoleeza Rice’s ‘unease’ about the deteriorating security situation in several African hot spots, no mention seems to have been made of the DRC.

Hard and fast

Last week I was temporarily distracted by London, where I went on a whirlwind visit to speak at a conference about the DRC. It’s the second consecutive year that I attend this conference and make a presentation on the DRC, and it’s the second year that I return home to turmoil. For now I will continue to focus my attention on ‘the troubled eastern province of North Kivu’, as it is regularly referred to by reporters.

For the last few days, everyone has been saying that after weeks of preparation, the Congolese army would finally attack on 5 December. Someone jumped the gun. Probably the rebel leader, General Nkunda. This morning there was heavy fighting north of Goma, with tanks shooting at the hills, and the hills shooting back at the tanks.

The numbers:
· 1 rebel leader
· 4,000 insurgents loyal to the rebel leader
· 20,000 government troops
· almost 400,000 displaced civilians since the end of last year
· 800,000 displaced civilians altogether

According to one of my Congolese colleagues, whenever there is conflict in the DRC, the three big players are not far away: USA, Belgium and France. The US is going very public, ahead of Condoleeza Rice’s visit to Ethiopia on Thursday, with calls for Nkunda to surrender and go into exile. Belgium and France are very silent. The UN is even more definitely siding with the government than before.

The recurring refrain amongst the Congolese I speak to is, why on earth wasn’t Nkunda taken out before? I remember when I was in Goma six months ago, driving past a hotel and being told by a fairly senior UN representative that this was where Nkunda regularly came to eat and meet with his collaborators…

Meanwhile, I look back wistfully at my pictures from election-day in Sake, and remember with sadness the tears of joy in an old man’s eyes as he danced down the steps of the voting centre for whence he had just cast the first free vote in his life. I wonder where these kids are today.



P.S: Extra Extra, aka F., travelled to Masisi on Saturday to look into stories like this one. He had some misadventures on route, involving sleeping in a truck, which I’m sure he will blog about in due course. He is now in Masisi, which remains quiet.

Looking grim: North Kivu

The talk over the last few weeks has been about the fighting in North Kivu (what marks the boundary between fighting and war?). The deadline set by President Kabila for General Nkunda to reintegrate his forces into the national army passed more than a month ago, and everyone expected a major army offensive. Then a series of unexpected events provided a small measure of skeptical hope:

- the Rwandan foreign minister Charles Murigande showed up in Kinshasa in a bid to avoid an escalation of the crisis into a broader conflict;
- President Kabila visited the White House;
- the US State Department suddenly became concerned with the situation, and dispatched a senior advisor for conflict resolution to North Kivu;
- the Congolese and Rwandan governments signed a pact in Nairobi to deal with Rwandan Hutu rebels in DRC.

Now, after a new upsurge in the fighting, General Kayembe, head of the Congolese Army, says war is inevitable. The UN military commander calls it a phase of "constraint". The UN is in a tight spot: it has a mandate to support the Congolese army, but as a result it is seen to be taking sides, and will therefore become a target itself.

Meanwhile, the number of IDPs in North Kivu has reached 800,000, of which 375,000 since last December alone.

Truce

Soon it will be two years since I first arrived in Kinshasa.

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