What's in your bag?

Usually, the content of one's bag (or wallet) says a lot about a person.
So my (non-emergency) green bag contains:
- a pile of -very- smelly Congolese Francs;
- some crispy US dollars (in 10's, not that I walk around with 100's and ask the Shegues for change)
- my blue UNLP and my passport
- a flashlight (very practical to open the door when the guard is not there)
- earplugs / eyemask (you never know when you will need to sleep... nor how noisy it will be around)
- my MP3 player (nothing like Franz Ferdinand to wake me up and head-bang while driving a UN car)
- my camera (small... great for drive-by shooting)
- sunglasses
- Danish stamps, bus card and coins (I have been too lazy to take this out)
- my airmiles reward card (in case we get evacuated to Brazza and relocated to the Méridien, I won't be left in the blue)

Emergency pack

My flatmate warned me: being a former special force, he was taking the risks of Kinshasa seriously and decided to share his expertise with me. Even better, he opted for preparing my "grab pack" in case things turn sour. The idea was to have a small bag with all the necessary item for spending up to 3 days with no access to safety, let alone food, water and entertainment...

So there it is:
- 2 packs of instant soup
- 2 packs of porridge ("eadable with cold water... Might taste like shit but keeps you full!")
- 3 cans of veggies + 1 of tuna (cans that don't need an opener...)
- 1 can of halal corned beef (that can be exchanged with other goods)
- dry fruits
- gums
- unbreakable plastic glass
- first aid pack
- Swiss army knife
- flashlight and matches
- ... and tampax (not pictured. "Not only can you save the day of your lady friend who may not be as prepared, a tampax is the best aid for gunshot wounds". Hmmm, would would have thought?)

What was missing? Oh yeah, the bottle of Saint Emilion... But I drank the bottle so I had to buy a new one everyday.

Pas de chance...

When you live in Kinshasa, you cannot expect everything to work all the time... At least that is what I learned: even the trusty battered 4wd refused to start at the end of the evening. May be it had less petrol than I had gin&tonic?

So I called the garage and waited while my friend was talking to her boyfriend on the phone, reassuring him over the "coup de la panne" and being stuck at night with a French.

The future of Congo?

It was an easy title, I admit: a policeman with his gun on his laps looking a baby in the the arms of the mother who is about to vote... I guess that was what made me so optimistic on that day, when the country queued to cast their ballots.
After all, not all development workers turn cynical...