Returning to Kinshasa
Experience a sunset drive through Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Last night, I flew into Kinshasa the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo and the most populous city in Africa. Stepping off the plane, I was greeted by the familiar embrace of heat and humidity. Interestingly, one of the next things to hit me was a smell. I wouldn’t describe it as good or bad - simply familiar. It’s extraordinary how a smell has the power to transport us, to awaken memories buried deep in the recesses of our minds. That first breath reminded me of every trip I’ve taken here before, as if the air itself was welcoming me back.
Clouds above Congo
The journey through immigration was uneventful, though it carried the usual undertone of opportunism. A security officer offered (forced) his help with my baggage, his friendly demeanour tempered by an expectation of monetary gain. Outside, the arrivals area buzzed with familiar chaos: taxi drivers, security guards, and hopeful helpers crowding in, each eager to offer their services - or simply their hustle.
Amid this whirlwind of activity, I met Rocky, a young security guard with a beaming smile and boundless energy. Born in Congo but raised in South Africa, Rocky had returned home when COVID brought his work prospects to an abrupt end. He was friendly and easygoing, and refreshingly honest - a small anchor in the sea of chaos outside the airport.
Rocky helped manage things while I waited for my driver, casually batting away overly enthusiastic taxi drivers and opportunists. Yet, he had his own distractions. Every time a single woman emerged from the airport, Rocky’s eyes lit up, and off he dashed, eager to assist. “They are pretty, and I want to help them,” he confessed with a cheeky grin. Each time, he returned empty-handed but unfazed by his lack of success and ready to resume our conversation until the next opportunity came along.
When my driver finally arrived, the ride to my Guest House - a mere 25 kilometres - was a quintessential Kinshasa experience: two and a half hours of traffic!
Kinshasa’s traffic is a must experience thing. It's hard to describe this organically unique ecosystem, a swirling mass of vehicles, beat-up yellow taxis, worn-out buses, and so many motorbikes zooming in all directions. I couldn’t help but be reminded of a game I played during a previous visit to pass the time in endless traffic: trying to spot a car untouched by the chaos of the road. It’s almost impossible. Every vehicle bears the scars of Kinshasa’s streets - dents, scratches, and battle wounds that tell stories of near misses and inevitable collisions.
Amid this moving maze, the street vendors are true artists. With buckets balanced on their heads, trays of goods in hand, and containers of food slung across their arms, they weave seamlessly between the chaos. They dart between cars, somehow avoiding contact, and stand nervelessly on the non existent white lines as vehicles pass them by.
If you look even remotely interested, they are ready to follow - rushing alongside the car, shouting prices, and holding up their goods for inspection. I watched as one vendor jogged along beside a Land Cruiser just ahead of us, a tray of dried fish held high above his head, desperate not to lose a potential customer to the trickling tide of traffic.
However, it isn’t just food and drinks on offer. Buckets of cleaning supplies, chargers, and even brightly coloured clothes are displayed as if in an open-air bazaar on wheels. And then the highlight of last night's journey - the puppies. Two tiny dogs carried by a vendor who tapped on windows, showcasing his adorable products, hoping someone would take home an unexpected furry companion. It’s both surreal and ingenious and well reflects the city’s resilience and creativity.
This is Kinshasa: a place where even the most chaotic traffic jam is transformed into an opportunity for commerce. It’s a symbiotic relationship between the vendors and the drivers. If you’re stuck for hours, why not buy something to eat, drink, find a new outfit or surprise your family with a new cute pet?
The journey wasn’t without its challenges. Our white Land Cruiser, a ubiquitous sight here, was temperamental, stalling at the most inconvenient moments in intersections. At one point, we sideswiped a motorcyclist with the mirror, but at the crawling pace of less than 15 km/h, no real harm was done - and a few yelled back and forth between drivers was all that followed
Finally reaching my accommodation, I felt exhausted but strangely content. Kinshasa has a way of throwing you headfirst into its vibrant energy while reminding you of its undeniable grit. It’s a place where life happens in the streets, in the traffic, and in moments like my conversations with Rocky.
This morning, as I sit with a coffee and reflect, I’m reminded of why I keep coming back. Kinshasa is in itself a story, embellished by the millions of individual stories that meet here, in every corner, a human connection waiting to be uncovered.
