Trip to Epulu: Part 1

There is rumbling in the sky. Thunder rolling somewhere off in the distance. The daily afternoon storm gathering itself together. I take comfort in these rains. But I am one of the fortunate ones with a roof over my head and dry rooms in which to hide.

Just back from a weekend in Epulu to enjoy some quiet, nature, and the okapi. We were five going up (including our driver, Emmanuel) and six coming home. Crispin, one of the biologists with Wildlife Conservation Society, caught a ride back here to Beni.

So, a little bit about our trip up on Friday. It was a lesson in patience and powerlessness.

We (Chelsie, Meredith, and I) had hoped to be on the road by 6:30am. The drive to Epulu is about 400 km (240 mi), and takes about 7 hours, as most of it is over unpaved road. We had been cautioned to arrive before dark. There are no roadside services, streetlights, or AAA. While there have been times of  outbreaks of violence in the region through which we were traveling, the area has been relatively safe recently.

At 6:30 we still didn’t have a driver--only promises of one. At 7:00am Emmanuel arrived driving a Toyota 4-wheel drive Land Cruiser wagon. Like much of business here, we found Emmanuel through someone who knew someone who knew someone. Mau, our night guard, and Mama Furaha, one of our mamas, helped us pack our bags, a 20-liter. jerry can, and groceries (which included two live chickens) into the Land Cruiser. We were soon driving out of our gate and starting our trip (or so we thought). We had to stop at the home of Charles Kambale Tsongo, the bursor/business manager at UCBC. Charles raises turkeys, and we had made arrangements to buy our Thanksgiving bird from him.

Charles, dinner, and me

The process of procuring and then securing our turkey took about 30 minutes. Visiting is always part of doing business here in Congo (and in much of Africa). You don’t just dash in, hand over your money and scramble out with your goods. This is a place of relationships. We chatted with Charles for a bit before starting the process of packing him up. Emmanuel took charge of hobbling the turkey, after which we tucked him behind the seat with the jerry can, chickens, and rest of the groceries. We had planned to pay Charles for the turkey, but he insisted on giving it to us as a gift. This was a significant gift, given that he could have earned a hefty price selling the bird.

Emmanuel (on R) and gas station attendants

Heading out of Ndoni, the time was now close to 8:00. But we needed fuel. The gas tank was empty, and we also needed to fill up the jerry can. Emmanuel insisted on going to a place where he could watch the fuel being measured directly from oil barrel into jerry can. He was adamant that we couldn’t trust the gas station, as the owners defraud customers by altering the gauges so that the amount of gasoline actually pumped is less than what registers on the dials.

Packed and ready to go

So we drove through one of the business districts adjacent to Ndoni and pulled up at Lubrication de Grace, a sort of store-front gas station. Inside the small shop were several men presiding over a couple of barrels of fuel oil and several shelves of motor oil. Soon one of the men began to siphon gasoline from the barrel (yes, tube attached to barrel; yes, he had to suck on the tube to begin the flow) into a 20-liter jerry can. He filled another, after which two men and Emmanuel poured the gasoline directly from the jerry cans into the gas tank through a funnel that they had lined with a piece of cloth. I had to walk away from the car as the fumes poured out. Our Thanksgiving birds, unwitting gasoline huffers, had ceased their squabbling.

About 45 minutes and $187 later, our gas tank and two jerry cans were full. Fully expecting to be on our way, Chelsie, Meredith, and I were surprised when Emmanuel turned south rather than north to head out of town. Emmanuel informed us that he needed to pick up his clothes.

At about 8:15 Emmanuel deftly maneuvered the Land Cruiser into a small compound behind a commercial building along the main road in Beni. He jumped out and disappeared inside the living quarters—the building on the right-hand side of the compound. A few minutes later he reappeared and we negotiated our payment plan. Emmanuel wanted his full payment up front, but was willing to accept half the amount with promise to be paid the balance upon our return home. Emmanuel went back inside, and we waited. Soon he emerged and popped across the compound into the kitchen. By 8:40 we were pulling out of the compound. “I have to pay my insurance,” Emmanuel informed us. While we were glad that he was taking care of this important business, we knew that our departure was to be delayed yet again.

The insurance is really a tax of sorts on people who drive cars, trucks, and busses. In fact, over the previous week, a makeshift roadblock has been set up on the road to UCBC. Every time we come up to the road block, we have to show proof that the insurance has been paid. It’s an interesting procedure to witness. For example, the Kasali cars have the appropriate stickers displayed on the windshield, so an attendant should be able to easily see the sticker. The people who staff the roadblock remain consistent. They see us drive past every day, at least twice—going to UCBC and returning from UCBC. Given the number of personal vehicles on the road, one would expect that by Day 2 or 3, the attendants would recognize the car and let us proceed posthaste. But every time we are stopped. There is some exchange of words and a need to show other papers before we are hailed on our way.

So back to our attempts to head on our way to Epulu.

We were more than happy that Emmanuel was attentive to having documents in order. Aside from the impromptu roadblocks that we were likely to encounter, we were also going to be leaving North Kivu Province and entering Province Orientale.

So Meredith, Chelsie, and I sat in the car in front of the Insurance Office while Emmanuel negotiated inside. After about 30 minutes, he came out to say we needed to return to his home. There were other papers he needed to provide. Back to Emmanuel’s house, where it took him only about 5 minutes to gather additional documents. Return to the Insurance Office. By now the time was 9:30. I was calculating daylight hours and travel time. Seven hour drive. Sun sets at 6:00pm. We had a couple of hours to spare, provided we didn’t have car trouble, flat tire, or come upon an accident or vehicle—a not uncommon event that could completely block the road. And Emmanuel was still at the mercy of the authorities inside the Insurance Office. “I bet it will be another 40 minutes,” was Chelsie’s prediction. She was wrong. Emmanuel popped out of the office and into the car after only 35 minutes!

Breathing a sigh of relief, we pulled onto the road. A few minutes later we picked up Noe Kasali and started our trip.