Having said goodbye to John, probably for the last time (unless I can catch up with him in Lubumbashi), I headed back into the hotel to prepare for the week ahead: a market study on the potential for a new cement plant in the country. A completely different proposition, and one that requires navigating through the minefields of Congolese bureaucracy, suspicion, open secrecy and no small amount of corruption. I was unusually serene though, with the client being local and having organised my visa on arrival for the visit. Dinner was good, if overpriced, as is usual in Kinshasa, and I was looking forward to a different side of Kin and then the drive to Matadi port, some 350km south-west of Kin on the border with Angola. I’ve done the trip a number of times and it’s always exciting to see the mighty Congo River up close and personal.
I met up with Mo, we shall call him, a Middle Eastern businessman who had lived in Congo for 30-odd years on the Monday morning, and we mapped out the week ahead. Fabulous coffee, with Mo smoking a packet of twenty before 11 am, and alternately swearing at everyone in the office and flirting outrageously with every woman who walked into the building. We headed out after lunch at a great Lebanese restaurant (Lebanese businesses are very prominent from Senegal to Angola on Africa’s west coast, much like the Indian diaspora dominates much of the eastern seaboard) and began our series of meetings with key contractors, large building materials resellers and logistics companies, gathering a goldmine of data you simply can’t get any other way. After a couple of days of this, we headed for Matadi.
The Matadi Highway is a misnomer: it’s a single lane each way, takes about two or three hours to get out of or into Kinshasa because of the congestion and is riddled with potholes, partially collapsed bridges and markets that encroach onto the road. It’s also the only road linking the port of Matadi with the 40 million people on the western side of DRC who depend entirely on the port for imports of almost everything. The road winds along partly parallel to the river, partly meandering between the hills. It’s very windy, with lots of blind rises and corners, and broken-down cars and jack-knifed trucks spilling bananas across the road a common feature.
This doesn’t deter Congolese drivers, especially Mo, who drive at the limits of whatever vehicle they’re in. Mo spent the journey smoking non-stop and alternatively swearing into one phone and cackling outrageously into another, with a fourth hand on the hooter as we drove through small villages and the markets spilling onto the ‘highway’. We stopped twice for funeral processions. Mo wound down his window and showered the mourners with cash, of which he had a never-ending supply in various currencies.
We arrived in Matadi around nine hours after we left Kin and headed for our hotel, which sprawled across one side of a hill, built in the style of an entire Tuscan village, except with dodgy wiring, dodgier water and a large cinema-style screen, to show the football, next to the pool and bar. We had a great dinner of Congo River prawns and fish, followed by the ubiquitous peri-peri chicken, chips and loads of beer. Mo was in his element, especially as more and more of the local hookers took up residence in the bar waiting for the assortment of local businessmen, visitors from Kin and Angola, and bored sailors to get drunk and loosen their purse strings. Time to exit.
The following morning, we headed to the port to look at the state of it. Pretty run down, with most of the cranes not much more than scrap, although it could pass as a post-modern art installation in parts of Europe. “No fuckin’ click-click here!” barked Mo as we arrived, as photographing any public building in the Congo can land you in prison. I’ve been there loads of times and am well aware of it. We handed in our passports (and US $200 to Mo’s contact) and headed for the meeting: a torturous affair, with slow, heaving cascades of hierarchy and protocol you could stick a turbine on and run a small city off. We got what we expected – precisely nothing – and headed off to the private port concession around the river bend after collecting our passports from the bored guards.
More passport control, despite it being a private concession. Great meeting with a young Belgian guy who also happened to have started a rugby club in the town. He was delighted to be able to talk rugby for a while, interspersed with sighs and eye-rolling about Congolese corruption.
As we left, we collected our passports, except this time the officer smiled and addressed me in English. My heart sank. It means only one thing: bribes, which I don’t pay. “M. Deebee (obviously reads OB), may I have a word? Come sit. Let’s talk about your passport.” I didn’t have a visa to be here apparently.
“Not true”, I replied with a flourish and showed him the stamped visa on arrival. “Yes, but visa on arrival is only valid for the province of arrival,” he smiled, warming to his task. “I must arrest you.” A furious exchange between the officer and Mo in Lingala, punctuated by swearing in French and English, along with mutual backslapping and laughter went on for thirty minutes or so before the officer beamed and turned to me. “Come, you need to come with me.”
He didn’t have a car, so we were obliged to give him a lift to the police headquarters where I was put into a cell. No lights, no windows, just a hole in the rickety door for light and air. No Wi-Fi or internet obviously, no phone signal. Nothing. Just heat and stale sweat for company, with the occasional sounds of Mo flirting, fighting, laughing and swearing at and with anyone in whichever room he was in.
Time dragged on and I began to worry that I was in real trouble, not just US$100-and-fuck-off trouble. Eventually, six hours later, Mo arrived, ice cold beer in hand, huge smile, even bigger apology and flung open the door. “Come! We go! I’ve sorted it. You fuckin’ expensive, you!” Cue more laughter. The officer was delighted with his work, worth US $800 to him and nothing to the state, and we were on our way to the border town of Lufu, a gateway for informal trade with Angola over the rickety Lufu bridge on the Lufu river. But that’s a story for another day.
As told by the convict formerly known as Deebee7.
Proper rugby returneth
Friday 21st August
| Western Force v Reds | 10:05 | Sky Sports Action |
| Sale v Exeter | 18:00 | BT Sport 2 |
| Treviso v Zebre | 19:00 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Wasps v Worcester | 19:45 | BT Sport Extra |
| Gloucester v Bristol | 19:45 | BT Sport Extra |
Saturday 22nd August
| Brumbies v Waratahs | 10:15 | Sky Sports Action |
| Saracens v Quins | 12:30 | BT Sport Extra |
| Scarlets v Cardiff | 15:00 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Leicester v Bath | 16:30 | BT Sport 3 |
| Edinburgh v Glasgow | 17:15 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Leinster v Munster | 19:35 | Premier Sports 1 |
Sunday 23rd August
| Ospreys v Dragons | 14:15 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Connacht v Ulster | 16:30 | TG4 / Premier Sports 1 |
Tuesday 25th August
| Wasps v Sale | 17:30 | BT Sport 2 |
| Bristol v Exeter | 19:45 | BT Sport 2 |
Wednesday 26th August
| Leicester v London Irish | 18:00 | BT Sport Extra |
| Saracens v Gloucester | 18:00 | BT Sport Extra |
| Worcester v Quins | 18:00 | BT Sport Extra |
| Northampton v Bath | 19:45 | BT Sport 2 |
Ovally Balls 
Chimpie – JJ Cale’s a ‘Bit’.
A Bit folk-y
A Bit Blues-y
A Bit Country-y
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John Cale’s better than JJ.
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@sbt
I had a similar experience earlier on the way to the cricket nets except this was a bulldog trying to shag a rottweiler only to be met with predictable failure.
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Deebee, it was a regular fixture for a while, 9 matches between 1996 and 2005, but then got dropped. There must’ve been some connection between the schools for a while. Affies won all the games but two or three of them were quite close.
Now they play KES and Jeppe in inter-schools, and Helpmekaar as well. They haven’t taken on Monnas for a good few years eithre. I remember Affies had a few fallings out with some of the Afrikaans-medium schools in Pretoria. And the smaller schools in places in the Moot and beyond tend to get fixtures v the lower sides – 3rds v 1sts, that sort of thing – and often to fill in fixtures on a weekend.
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‘Your’Exeter team to face Bristol: 14 changes. Not sure I like it but it makes sure that all the squad gets game time.
10 points from two games perhaps gives them the right but it is a risk of getting hammered:
15 Josh Hodge, 14 Tom O’Flaherty, 13 Phil Dollman, 12 Tom Hendrickson, 11 Olly Woodburn
10 Gareth Steenson, 9 Sam Hidalgo-Clyne
1 Alec Hepburn, 2 Jack Yeandle (capt), 3 Tomas Francis, 4 Dave Dennis, 5 Sam Skinner, 6 Jannes Kirsten, 7 Don Armand, 8 Sean Lonsdale
16 Jack Innard, 17 Billy Keast, 18 Marcus Street, 19 Will Witty, 20 Richard Capstick, 21 Joe Snow, 22 Harvey Skinner, 23 Tom Wyatt
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Catching up on the premiership highlighted. Thoughts so far: a rampaging semi is a magnificent sight. Duncy weir’s hair. Jebus. Makes him look like art garfunkel
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Do semis rampage?
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Some do
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A man sees a sign outside a house – ‘Talking greyhound For Sale.’ He rings the bell, the owner appears and tells him the dog can be viewed in the back garden.
The man sees a very nice looking greyhound sitting there.
“Do you really talk?” he asks the greyhound.
“Yes,” the greyhound replies.
After recovering from the shock of hearing the greyhound talk, the man asks, “So, tell me your story.”
The greyhound looks up and says, “Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I joined the SAS.
“In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one imagined that a greyhound would be eavesdropping.
“I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years.
But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at Heathrow to do some undercover security work, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded several medals. I got married, had a few puppies, and now I’ve just retired.”
The man is amazed. He goes back into the house and asks the owner how much he wants for the greyhound.
“Ten quid,” the owner says.
“£10!!? But this greyhound is absolutely amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheaply?”
“Because he’s a lying bastard. He’s never been out of the garden!!.
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*groans*
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Ticht – you might appreciate this…
It came up on my recommendations a couple of nights ago. She’s ridiculously young (about 18 when this was put up on YouTube) and ridiculously talented.
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Also, this one. Fish is releasing his final album soon, and this is the first single from it. It’s about his dad (who died of cancer) and mum (who has dementia). I find it a really emotional video.
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Cheers for that BB. The first isn’t the sort of thing I’d seek out, but I always enjoy seeing talented youngsters doing their thing. I can’t help but sit and figure out how they are doing these sorts of videos.
I can hardly believe Fish is doing a final solo album, I first heard of Marillion when they played at a little hotel in Dunbar, 18 months later they were selling out the Playhouse in Edinburgh. I thought about that last week when I was home and drove past the hotel.
Stop me me if I’ve mentioned this before, but I met Fish once, he was at the college at Galashiels with one of our side and he came into the pub in North Berwick where we were. He was sound, nice guy to speak to, this was after he had left the band so he had “made it” by then but when he came in he saw Davie, our guy, and immediately came over and started speaking.
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Trump supporter accidentally shoots himself in the groin whilst trying to “trigger liberals”
https://www.queerty.com/trump-supporter-shoots-groin-attempt-trigger-liberals-20200819?fbclid=IwAR1-XO90bx1f-bQGwlX9kYwNaVcS4NNas3ZdKZ3oLsNrNRGKIyAg21Z0AUk
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Ticht, that bunch has Darwin Awards written all over them. Must have had a tiny pecker if he couldn’t do more damage from such short range too!
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According to a news report here (behind a paywall unfortunately), Willie le Roux asked to be dropped for the World Cup final because he was concerned his form would cost the Boks. Amazing if it’s true.
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Many Bok fans wanted WlR out in the long few years up to the World Cup. He was ok in the final, not great but not the Willie of 2013/14. it’s been a strange career.
Kolbe at full back with Nkosi and Mapimpi on the wings would be very exciting. Anyway, Fassi’s along soon and Gelant’s talking up a good game. The Bok outside backs are pretty swoonsome.
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Pointing a loaded gun at one’s privates with the safety off & taking a picture to get a reaction is just one of those things I’ll never understand.
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Geoff Huish is still the king of this.
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Kieran Reid to play for Counties Manaku (where he was raised before moving to Canterbury to go to uni) in the NPC (can’t remember the new name, too lazy to google it).
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TomP, we’ve got some very decent depth in the outside backs at the moment. Am at 13 is excellent and getting better, but we still have a problem at 12. I know De Allende was good at the World Cup, but he’s still pretty one-dimensional. Luckily with the retirement of Schalk Burger, we now also have a 10 who does more than run straight at the nearest defender, getting pummeled behind the advantage line.
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Geoff Huish
Googled that. My eyes are watering. Why, why, why?
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OK I’m not googling that
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Whatever that may be
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Chimpie,
bing.com is yourfriend.
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Is Jimmy going to be left high and er, dry, on 599 Test wickets by the rain in Southampton? Wouldn’t like to be one of the quartet who’ve dropped catches off him in this Test if he is.
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Am looking forward to “Land of Hope and Glory” at Last Night of the Proms because I love Britain.
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I admire a man who knows his history
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Nice story Ticht. I’ve probably said on here (or on The Old Place) before, but I’ll tell it again. First saw Marillion in April ’82, before they had their record deal. It was at the old College of Textiles student bit in Gala (just next to the rugby and football grounds). They were doing a wee tour of the Borders (as every band should). The support band were the Border Boogie Band (who featured the guy who would become Fish’s guitarist when he went solo). I managed to get a brief drunken conversation with the Big Guy while BBB were on. He was very polite to a drunken wee bum who was about a foot smaller than him.
Before he joined Marillion, he’d been working in forestry on the Bowhill estate, about 4 miles down the road from where I lived. A couple of the guys I hung around with then knew him from there.
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Bugger, had forgotten there was rugby on now. Wassups against Sale South Africans.
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Sale win fairly convincingly, 11-20. The Other Curry was MOTM. He was almost as good as Hamish…..
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Brizzle vs We’re Not Racists Really now.
Or Refit vs Slade.
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Charlie P and Semi R in the backfield is good.
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Exeter social distancing well from a scrum and Big Phil Dollman blasrs his way over. 7-0.
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What a finish from Sam H-C!
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Hidalgo-Cline gets the second for Exeter. Again from a scrum. They’ve done a lot of good work on figuring out how to get space from first phase. This one was very old-fashioned, mind.
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Proper by Bristol. They drive Exeter off their own xcrum ball 5 out and then clear to Exeter’s 22.
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15-3 to Exeter at the half. Nathan Hughes just did what Number 8s should do to outside halves to Gareth Steenson.
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Bristol done more in the last 3 minutes of the half than in the previous 37.
3-15 at half time.
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1-10 Exeter are winning this game easily.
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Bristol score a try through Piers O’Connor.. Looked suspicously forward but referee Barnes let it go.
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Bristol right back in this – upped the tempo bigly.
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And another. Pretty easy after a good drive at the line-out. Morahan in the corner.
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Exeter’s lineout has collapsed. Bristol lose one now too.
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Ioan Lloyd for the win. He’s very very good.
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Some Exeter lad for the win. Probably.
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Only it isn’t for the win. Exeter come back to win it at the death.
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Exeter win.A fine victory for them. 25-22.
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phew! -good win for the reserves, that!
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There was a dog on that old Esther Rantzen show on the Beeb (the one with the ribald carrots) that predicted the coming of all the future Josh Hodges in the world.
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