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 
Think I’d wait a bit before proclaiming him the Next Big Thing.
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*Real Cricket Match Report*
WIXI vs Hebden Bridge 16/08/20
We were supposed to go to Rochdale to play Kamikaze, but with local lockdowns abounding they belied their name to pull out even before we did so Hebden Bridge stepped into the breach. On winning the toss the Hebden captain said they had a bowling side and put us in. Batting was pretty difficult especially against the off-spinner who opened from one end and bowled five overs for four runs. Our openers did a worthwhile job keeping him out though and we did at least make a fairly steady start all things considered. I hung around for a fair while to make a scratchy nineteen and the opener who was still there made a very solid 37 though he struggled with the pitch as I did.
I eventually managed to get caught one-handed on the run by a fat old man for the second time in three goes this season. Both times I half pulled out of the shot so I need to follow through properly and take them out of the equation if they’re going to do that sort of thing. Thankfully the next man in, a much better player than me and the uncle of one of the kids Mrs CMW child-minds, found batting a lot easier than anyone else and made a quick 41 with numerous hefty thwacks whenever the bowlers dropped short. Like the opener who got runs he’s played most of his cricket over the years for our now-defunct traditional rivals. Social cricket in York has declined over the years though and we’re almost the last bastion. Good to have them on board to score our runs even if they are inherently evil. The Wellington closed on 148/6 off our forty overs which was a reasonable if unspectacular effort in the conditions.
Hebden lost their best player early on which put us in a decent position. Next in was very much a hitter. He was palpably lbw on nought, their umpire said it “would have been out on a Saturday”, something that flies in the face of my experience of league cricket but there we are. He hit he next ball for six and then the overhanging tree on the boundary reduced his next shot from six to four. Next over I shoved the field out and immediately found myself taking a pretty decent catch at long off. Unfortunately I closed my hands fractionally too soon and the ball caught the outside of my finger on the way into my hands and split the finger on the inside. Lots of blood. Got it plastered up and retook the field wearing one white glove which is always a good look.
Soon Hebden were reduced to 68/9, mainly thanks to the efforts of our one true opening bowler. Not that he opens the bowling any more as he’s bowling off a couple of paces due to his knees having gone. Funnily enough it comes out at pretty much the exact same (not very quick) pace that it did when he ran in. Anyway I can’t complain at him taking four for eleven even if he is yet another of the old enemy come over from the dark side. Hebden were playing with ten men and I had suggested they could bat eleven with the lowest scorer coming in twice. Their best player had his pads on again which was a bit off considering he’d hit two fours earlier on. Not needing too much mathematical knowhow to smell a rat I objected so the number ten who’d just got a duck stayed out there instead. Best part of an hour later he was 45 not out and Hebden needed 24 off the last two overs. I’d assumed we wouldn’t bowl all forty so had my maths wrong to use up all the better bowlers and had to bowl the penultimate over myself. Right arm over, covered with blood, cap reversed to keep the lockdown hair out of my eyes and wearing one white glove. I got a nick first ball but the keeper spilled it thus saving the rest of the attack from the “How hard can it be?” I’d been saving for them. I went for twelve so our main man just needed to go for fewer. Thankfully with his first ball he cleaned up the chap who was having his second go and we won by eleven runs.
Good game, better than it needed to be. Had to go to hospital to get the hand glued afterwards instead of going back to mop all the floors ahead of the following day in child-minding land. Very popular at home.
*Real Cricket Match Report (finally) Ends*
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S’pose I could have just said hello.
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Sparrowhawks pass through our garden on their way back and forth to the common nearby. I’ll have said this before, but anyway there was one time I was cutting the hedge back and decided to leave the tall fronds as the sparrows like to perch on them. Ten minutes later the hawk took one off the top in front of my eyes. A large female one has perched on one of our garden chairs no more than ten feet way from me and given me a prolonged evil stare. Beautiful if cruel looking birds.
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Not been paying much attention to the rugby, but I did notice that the O’s aren’t actually worse than the Dags after all. So take that Iksy.
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Gone a bit Neighbours there. Drags/Dregs whatever.
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Bit disappointed with all those nexts in a row in one paragraph of the match report too. I blame ending up in Next yesterday. Bought two pairs of leggings and seven pairs of socks. I got my skirts, skorts, tights and pinafores in M&S.
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Worthy of an ATL, that CMW! Not the ‘Spose I coulda said hello’ (although it was beautifully written), but the Real Cricket update above it!
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***Not Real Rugby Update***
The Steinlager North v South match has been confirmed for Wellington’s Sky Stadium on Saturday 5 September, and it will be played without a live crowd.
The news follows the Government’s announcement this week on Covid-19 Alert Levels, with Auckland remaining at Level 3 until this Sunday night and Wellington and the rest of the country remaining at Level 2 until Sunday 6 September.
Despite there being no crowds in attendance, we’re delighted the match can go ahead in Wellington and can’t wait to witness another chapter in this historic rivalry from 7.10 PM live and exclusive on Sky Sport.
That’s Sky Sports Kiwi time, insular bastards. Both sides look weak too.
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(catching up here – loved the Congo travelogue – been away in Galway/Clare for a few days)
Yep, Casey was one of stand-out Ireland U20s in 2019. quick pass, quick decision making, decent break – there’s lots and lots to like.
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I know that Bojo and the Clowns have been pisstaking as a form of rule (they certainly aren’t governing), but appointing Tony Abbott as a Trade Envoy surely ranks down there with the lowest of the low?
https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2020/aug/26/choosing-tony-abbott-uk-trade-envoy-staggering-says-labour
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Thanks Trisk – Congo is probably as green as Ireland, but I think you’re probably a little less prone to misadventure (whether of your own making or not!) in Ireland than Congo.
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Trisk, good to see him getting some game. A lot of good youngsters coming through in Munster. Terrible news for Snyman with the leg.
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@tomp
Somewhere Clive Woodward is stamping his feet saying “why didn’t I think of that?”
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@Deebee – each and every occurrence of Real Cricket is of course an event of much magnificence deserving of the utmost glorification. Either that or it’s a bunch of people of negligible sporting ability farting around to no discernable purpose. Something must be true. The occasional reports feel to me that they belong down here, glad you enjoyed it.
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If we ever get round to using banjos for bats and a beetroot for a ball then I’ll be submitting an ATL though.
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“Oliver and Olivia continued their reign as the top boys’ and girls’ names in 2019, but analysis shows choices in baby names can differ depending on the mother’s age,” said David Corps, of the ONS.
“We found younger mothers opted for more modern girls’ names like Harper, which has seen a rise since the Beckhams named their daughter so in 2011, and shortened boys’ names like Freddie.
“In contrast, older mothers chose more traditional names such as Jack and Charlotte.”
David Corps of the ONS would be out on his ear for this if it was down to me.
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Evening CMW, you’re not posting into a void. Davie Corpse is off his rocker.
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Jeez, Sarries Glaws is a lot of rubbish so far. Only clear opinion I can draw is that if you have a silly haircut, dropping the ball makes you look a real dick, whereas it is a little more acceptable with a straightforward chop.
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Daly with a couple of long penalties, 9-3 to Sarries, and thats amazing, neither team can string more than three passes together without a knock on.
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21-10 to Sarries after 48 minutes. Just chooned in.
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Another lineout rumble, another try. Sarries 26-10 up. Conversion missed.
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Or not. 28-10.
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Box kick out on the ful takes play back to the Sarries 22. It’s that kind of slopoy crap that has them at the foot of the table, I’m assuming.
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26-10. I was right.
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Sarries denied a try by the TMO. Probably shouldn’t have been leaping over the maul and dotting down short.
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@Deebee – Today has been all about the void as Mrs CMW convinced me to go to York’s ‘Designer Outlet’ to go shoe-shopping for the girls. I’ve barely had any interest in being alive since I made my escape from the place and the desperate desire to get out faded away.
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Good try Glos! Took it through the phases, looked a bit dodgy at times, but got the ball wide with some quick hands under pressure for the replacement hooker to burst through. 26-15 with a hooked conversion.
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@CMW – you poor sod. You must feeling like Sarries: no matter what you do, you’re doomed.
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Sarries over again! Woolstencroft or thereabouts in for a hattrick! 31-15.
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And another! Missed it whilst pouring wine. 36-15.
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It was a particular cruelty on Mrs CMW’s part as she wasn’t making the trip herself and for whatever reason she finds it easier to cope with these attacks on the human spirit than I do. Sometimes even claims to ‘quite enjoy’ them. I suppose she was busy wiping young boys’ bums and so on, but still…
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Saints vs Bath is really not very good.
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CMW – you have my profound sympathies. Hard to imagine a worse hell.
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And JUST after I write that, Bath score a try. Off a mistake from Saints.
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Several Ulster academy players and staff, plus one senior player have tested positive for Covid 19.
https://www.ulsterrugby.com/2020/08/ulster-rugby-statement-5/
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Dammit! Although the article says that the senior player is only isolating since he’s been in contact. But all training stopped.
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@CMW
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@Iks – I think it was my fourth visit in twenty years. Fifth if you count putting a brownie on a coach to Blackpool at 6am in the pitch dark and driving rain in the middle of winter. Thinking about it that was easily the best one, right down to being woken at twenty past five by the excited child shouting “HAVE YOU SEEN THE TIME ON MY WATCH?” in my face.
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Swindon’s Outlet Centre, or ‘Dante’s Emporium’ provided proof that a soul could indeed leave its body.
We have found a workable solution around an Outlet Centre at a place called Zwiebrücken. It’s about 90 mins drive, and there’s a delightful hotel in a converted Kloster about 5 mins away. Mrs.Iks shops for sports clothing there mainly, while I wander the hills near the Kloster, or languish in the beer garden or cellar-bar before eating dinner there together.
Unfortunately the hotel has grown to be very expensive, so only for special occasions these days.
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Enjoyable bit of cricket writing by the way.
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Outlet centres
*shudders*
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I do have a borderline phobia of shopping. Causes me physical distress if I have to wander around shops for more than an hour or two.
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That’s not good news RE Ulster. Hope it doesn’t’ spread.
Got some covid test kits sent out as chimplet 1 has a runny nose & can’t send him into school.
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Pop quiz: Which country was this photo taken in?
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgK2CorWsAAOmgR?format=jpg&name=small
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Book shopping – good. Record shopping – good. Food shopping – good. Daps shopping – good. Clothes shopping – nah.
I need to buy some shoes either today or tomorrow and I’m not looking forward to it. The problem is I know exactly what I want and so it’ll either be a very simple job, hardly worth the effort to get there, or a frustrating trawl around 4 or 5 shops becoming more and more exasperated as I can’t find the right pair.
Supermarkets offer a good, quick but limited guide to a country. Also, the gradations of supermarkets are really interesting (for me).
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Is it those slippers that have a zip up the front?
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How dare you! A man with my panache, my style, my grace wouldn’t be seen dead in a pair of those slippers that have a zip up the front.
In matters slipperial only the best is good enough:
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You should buy online
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