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Officially, it's legal to take photos in DR Congo, although for professional purposes you are supposed to have a permit. Unofficially, it's a scorned practice.       This is the problem that I've been running in to while being here. If you want to take a shot, you need to be stealthy about it. Using point and shoots is advisable over hauling out the 30D with the 2.8 aperture lens on it that makes it looks like a gun.       If regular people see you taking a photo, they will get in your face about it. This can vary by region though. In the west, they are much more antagonistic than in the east, probably because the west has more people sitting on their asses with little to do but harass people.       The police are the worst of all. They won't let you off without a bribe. Friends of friends have actually been taken down the police station only to argue their way out of bribes though, as it is legal to take pictures. This is a practice that you just want to do for the purpose of being right as they'll detain you for for several hours before you get out of there. Passing off a dollar's worth of Francs will make life go a lot smoother if cops get in between your camera and a shot.       This attitude about taking photos dates back to the Mobutu times when it was absolutely forbidden to take pictures in what was then Zaire. As is the case with just about every aspect of modern society in DR Congo, these old habits are hell to kill off and thusly people get offended of your taking photos of things. Even if it's something as silly as taking a picture of an empty street, someone will get offended in the end if they see you, which can drive you crazy because it makes you think that they should focus more on fixing their streets than harassing a tourist with a camera.       So, here is the problem for me. I like to have photos to emphasize my blog posts, but for this series on DR Congo, the photos are going to be limited. Some will have them and some will not. I will have a nice selection of photos in the galleries once I get to posting them from Spain though.       It's a real shame that people are so assinine about this, as the country is beautifully colorful and the people vibrant and full of life despite their endless hardships that they've had to endure.

As you bump and bounce out of N'Djili Airport, you start to head in Kinshasa proper. It's a long trip of about an hour or so in moderate traffic, of which there is always at least moderate traffic in Kinshasa. The journey is not like that from American and European airports where you start in the middle of nowhere and slowly pick up more and signs of civilization until you are in the center of a bustling city.       Kinshasa is much different. You both start and end in the middle of nowhere. The end point has a great many more buildings, but it still feels dislocated and at odds with itself being a city of 10 million people and the largest French speaking city in the world. It feels like it is still trying to contend with the fact it started life as Leopoldville, a trading outpost on the river that is actually younger than West Coast American towns like San Francisco. It's a bend in the river that now is home to so many.       There are no bright lights of Kinshasa. While the city sits along the Congo River and there is a massive hydroelectric damn further upstream, electricty is very much an ammenity that most are forced to live without. While the center of town (like the Gombe District) has much better power connections, it is mostly expats and the wealthy living there. The endless sprawl of Kinshasans live quite literally in the dark.       The road from the airport passes all the bars and clubs that are packed with people no matter what the night is. They sit outside it in the stifling humidity, their evenings illuminated by candles and the passing lights of cars on the road. As I looked forward out the front window of the shuttle we were in, I could see the dark, smoky veil of cooking fires and pollution descending on the roadway. Silouhettes of people crossing the road were lit up by the streams of traffic, looking like these human shadow puppets strolling through the night.       We reached the center eventually and the building that we would call home for the next couple of weeks. The power was on here, as well as the water. A brief shower rinsed off one layer of the sticking, unwavering humidity before we plunged in to a deep sleep.

Upon arrival in Kinshasa, DR Congo, the first site for visitors in N'Djili Airport, which is definitely not the most pleasant of sites. It's rundown. It's smelly. It's crowded and it is overall a complete zoo.       Previous to visiting Congo, I read up a great deal on the country and this airport was one of my biggest fears. The endless delays in getting through it, the possbility of losing a great deal from your luggage when going through "customs", and then trying to get away from the airport and in to the center of Kinshas were all daunting problems not allowing me to sleep on the seven hour leg of the flight from Paris to Kinshasa.       Once we got there, my fears weren't fully lived up to. They have apparently cleaned up the airport a great deal in recent years and the need to have a "control" to usher you through the airport has lessened. It still sucks though and there are what I consider to be the five levels of purgatory before you are actually released upong Kinshasa.       1. Passport Inspection This is pretty minor and is just checking to see if you have a visa. The line is lengthy and stretches out on to the tarmac as naturally there are no true landing gates for the planes.       2. Passport Control A much longer process. You stand in lines with everyone else as you weed your way through a couple of booths checking each person's allowance to be in the country. This was apparently much faster in the past, but has been slowed down in the last month as the Congolese staff are learning to use some new computers that the EU got them. Once they get used to it, it will most likely speed up. One thing to note here is that no matter how seemingly stupid of a request the police might ask of you, go along with it. They have nothing else to do other than controlling that line and if you feel like giving them shit, they will give it right back. Just be patient and listen to them and respect them.       3. Health Control A minor step to make sure you have your yellow fever vaccination and your immunization card, which if your traveling here, you should most definitely have had.       4. Luggage... Sweet jesus almighty. This is the worst part. You stand along the luggage conveyor for something like two hours or more waiting for your baggage to come out. This may seem like a boring wait, except that there is no air conditioning in the space and there are all these random guys who want to "help" you grab your bags for a tip. It's sweaty and completely not fun, but is part of this journey. The biggest issue here is if you bag was lost, like one of ours was in the tight transfer in Paris. You don't find out that the bag is gone until the very end of all of this and then once you know, you have to register it as lost and then wait until the next flight, of which there are only three a week. Of course you have to get in a circular line (also known as a mobbing) to get in there to register your lost luggage.       5. Clearance and Onward Once you have your luggage, ignore every single person outside the airport. They will forcefully try to grab your bags to again "help" you carry them for a tip. Just cling on to them and keep going for either your ride, the taxis, or if you're lucky enough, the UN shuttle to the center. It should be noted that the taxis will be $50+ to get in to the center. Why? Because it's an hour ride on some of the worst roads ever conceived.       But that's it. Just a few simple steps. Just a few minor hours and you'll soon be in Kinshasa, home to 10 million people and a whole lot more craziness that I'll get in to again when I can get at the internet, which is scarce commodity in these parts.

As you read this, I'll either be on a plane in what is an 11 hour series of flights or I'll be on the ground, starting a two and a half week trip through the Democratic Republic of Congo, which is not to be confused with the Republic of Congo just to the north of it. For those not up on the last ten years of geographic shift in Africa, this is the country that used to be known as Zaire and was run by Mobutu (the guy with the leopard skin hat) for 30 years.       This is my first trip in to Africa and is probably one of the more odd choices in initial African landings seeing how this has been a country in Africa with one of the most storied histories. A more obvious choice would have been Kenya prior to the riots (I mean, even Virgin Atlantic flies there) or South Africa, which a good numbers of whities "venture" to.       Beyond the fact that I've never gone to Africa, the other big strike against me is that I don't speak Lingala, Swahili, or French. Thankfully, I have a very able guide in #1 Fan, who not only speaks French, but lived in Congo for two years. This should make the trip considerably easier. Even still, how in the hell do you prepare for a place that has rampant diseases, endemic unemployment, next to no ATMs, undrinkable water, and no reliable airlines? Well, first of all, you fly on glorious Air France (which only takes you to the capital of Kinshasa) and secondly, you hit the books.       DR Congo is not Croatia and there aren't 25 guidebooks on the country or many articles about the country in general. Lonely Planet had one, but it was from about nearly 20 years ago and yes, things have most definitely changed. There is a book that documents these changes exceedingly well, which is In the Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz. It's not a travel guide at all, but a book that documents the downfall of Mobutu. It prepares a visitor for the general cultural sense of DR Congo and might make a great many change their minds about going. Nonetheless, it's a great book to read even for those who have no intention of ever setting a foot in the country.       With a relatively stable peace established in 2003, this has brought about a couple of travel guides to actually pop up. One of the earliest was the one from, Petit Futé. It's big downside is that it happens to be written in French. But, it is a good entry to the country, especially if one is of the French speaking mindset. The other book which has only just come out in the UK and is set to be released in the US in May is from, Bradt. I love Bradt not necessarily because they're always the best guides, but because they publish guides on places like Congo (in this case both DR and R). This guide is in English and I have been reading it intently since getting an advanced copy of it. it's quite well written and based upon what prior knowledge I have of DR Congo, it is very accurate. The author pulls no punches and doesn't gloss over any of the ugliness of traveling there, showing the would be traveler what they are going to be up against, but at the same time showing the rewards of the trip. Things do change quickly in DR Congo and one of things that's already out of date is that Hewa Bora should not be flown on. That was the only Congolese airline that the author recommended and they've just been added to the EU's no-fly blacklist, which brings the total number of Congolese airlines not on the blacklist to a whopping zero.       But, this is how it is and I am going. This will be one of the tougher chunks of travel I've done and in the end I'm sure all will turn out fine. We'll just have to see what direction the path of the next two and a half weeks takes. I have no idea how often I'll be online, since internet is scarce, so if you see no posts here for some time, just remember that I am now in what I call Deep Travels.

I ask little of those who enjoy my blog. In fact, I ask nothing. It's a project that I create out of my own interest and enjoy maintaining. So, given that all I do is give to the net at large and have asked for nothing in return, I am now asking, not for some payment, but for help with a project.       For the last six months or so, #1 Fan and I have been working on a new venture together which will be a non-profit foundation called, Maneno. This is still a work in progress, but it will be the parent organization of what are currently two other entities. One will be Afractal Magazine (again, another work in progress) and the other is Watotees, which is fully functional now. Watotees is striving to supply funds to the other two projects through a variety of means. This is where you, humble reader and photo viewer, come in.       We have created our first t-shirts to sell at Watotees which are all about Fufu, a ubiquitous root that is a food staple in Sub-Saharan Africa. They're funny. They're hip. They're tan and brown and they're available to buy. We have produced these out of our own pockets in order to generate revenue for the project and we are keeping no profit from the sale of these shirts. Everything is going in to providing capital for the project.       Why I bring this up right now, is that while I am probably running around somewhere in Madrid, Spain as you read this, I will be in the Democratic Republic of Congo in 10 days with #1 Fan, to start initiating this ground-up project and document the progress that we make. While we're still going to do this no matter how much Watotees makes in the next few days, every little bit of extra money will help to aid those whose living conditions have nowhere to go but up if giving just a little bit of aid.

Due to popular films like, Blood Diamond, the issues surrounding conflict diamonds are becoming much better known to the world. If you really want to read up, this article is long, but insanely brilliant and in depth. But something that people are largely unaware of (myself including until about a year ago) is the conflict surrounding Coltan which is the name for columbite-tantalite, an ore crucial to producing the materials needed for capacitors. This is critical because capacitors are in essentially every electronic device that we make today from cellphones, to laptops, to even our cars.       By itself Coltan is just another item that we are stripping from the earth in order to feed our thirst for technology. The big problem with it, is people estimate that 80% of the world's supply exists in the Democratic Republic of Congo and it exists in areas that are rife with conflict and a tally of 3.8 million dead because of the conflict. Buying anything from this region in its current state continues to fund this conflict. There is basically no way to know if the Coltan in your electronics comes from here though as the material mined here is often smuggled out and sold in other neighboring countries who don't have the stigma of continuing war. So, the debate about where the material in the capacitors of your electronics comes from and if you are thusly supporting conflict continues and will hopefully get more attention in the coming years. Currently, the only thing you can do to limit this issue in your own life is to reduce or eliminate unnecessary electronics purchases. From here I depart on to a tangent that is related, but shows how hypocritical Americans are when it comes to what we say and do.       Lisa F. Jackson has been getting a lot of press and showings lately because of her documentary, The Greatest Silence which is a film that addresses the rape and torture of Congolese women in the eastern part of the DRC; an area which is only now starting to emerge from war. Jackson's approach puts her in front of the camera far too much and makes me respect Lumo even more as allows the story of rape and abuse to come forth from the mouths of the victims giving a much more powerful message from those affected. This method takes a great deal of time and isn't the slap dash method that Jackson uses, as her film was shot in a matter of weeks, as opposed to Lumo's two years.       But, this is subjective and I digress. The only think I wanted to establish is that Jackson is quite outspoken, which is good and bad. She is telling a message that needs to be heard. It's her methods that are suspect. For instance she goes to great ends to bash on the UN (one of the more unoriginal organizations to attack) yet at the same time, her film wouldn't have happened without the UN transporting her to areas or UN staff showing her around, such as the fellow in the film named, Bernard did. It's just a wee bit hypocritical. Also in this vein was a comment for the blog of the film from when she was in the Bay Area and had a screening at Pixar:       "I'm afraid I was a little hard on them during the Q&A, commenting that there was probably more Coltan in this building than in all of Marin County and if one-tenth of the creative (and money-making) power at Pixar were harnessed towards solving the problem of sexual violence in the Congo, things would change over-night. I couldn't get off my guilt-tripping and shared with them the suggestion of the person at Sundance who said I should start a campaign where after every screening folks sent text messages to the manufacturers of their cell phones to ask if they used Congolese Coltan and therefore had the blood of Congolese women on their phones. I told them that I had no clue how to initiate such a campaign, but perhaps there was a genius at Pixar who could get it launched."       I find this preposterous. Jackson shot her film on DV. That requires a computer to edit the film, which requires Coltan to manufacture, so is she not guilty as well by having the "blood of Congolese women" on her editing system that she used to make the film? By her logic it seems that the rules of altruism she puts forth don't apply to her as she is the one with the message. I feel that the message is being quickly tarnished and sullied as she appears to say whatever she can say to cause a stir and get her name out there, as opposed to actually posing solutions to these problems.       I have to say that I don't care for this sensationalist approach to solving a problem as it gets people in a flap, but then has little ongoing result. But, such is the way with Americans I suppose and why for the last 50 years we have been so insanely bad at solving any problems in the world despite so many attempts and money thrown at them. I just wish that someone would start "guilt-tripping" Jackson and filmmakers who work in this manner to make them actually stand up and back their lip service to the causes they purport to be supporting, instead of bringing up tragedy after tragedy with no solutions offered or any kind of meditation on what is at the core of the problems.       

Sunday marked the 80th Academy Awards which was an interesting show as no Americans won the acting awards. This speaks volumes about the state of acting in this country where it's more about being a pretty face than actually having any real talent. But partly out of curiosity and partly out wanting to balance an evening of watching revolting opulence, Number One Fan and I headed over to the Pacific Film Archive to watch a documentary about rape in Eastern Congo called, Lumo. Specifically, the film deals with the story of one woman healing from a gang rape by rebel soldiers where she developed a fistula due to the violence and savagery of the rape by the men. Read up on that link there and yes, it's about as horrific as it sounds. It's crippling to the women who have had it happen to them.       The film is excellent and while I was a bit timid to watch it as I was worried that the film would focus on the gory specifics of the fistula and the surgeries the women underwent to recover at a hospital sponsored by HEAL. Thankfully, the film did not do this. The film was a wonderfully well crafted piece that followed this woman, Lumo, as she goes from being bedridden in horrible shape in her home village, to coming to the hospital, to the slow path of recovery, which involves multiple surgeries with lengthy recoveries from each.       The film isn't some social studies experiment however. It takes an angle of actually getting to know all the women in this hospital and dealing with the fact that there is not only physical trauma for them to recover from, but also the mental anguish from rape, a possible pregnancy, and being completely ostracized by the people in their village. They become outcasts in their own homes and the film shows that in this safe commune of the hospital, they recover to some degree by having the support of others around them. Of course, there is also the return home to an uncertain future looming on all their horizons once they're healed.       To say the film is heartwarming story would be ludicrous. It's a hard look at the area around Goma where the brunt of the fighting between government troops and rebel fighters tends to hurt the civilians living there the most. Even still, it's an informative film that bears watching for anyone unfamiliar with this war that has cost millions of lives and continues to this day.       On a different note, I was quite interested by the audience. For those who don't know, February is Black History Month. While this film takes place in Africa, it was officially part of the Human Rights Festival. Even still, one would think that this would be something important to the history of blacks living in the US to some degree. This reminds me of a story though.       When I was living in Berkeley, I did a little stint working at the Berkeley Art Museum in the bookstore. It was some work thing I did for extra money to balance out my student loans. Pretty boring, but it paid the bills. So, it was about this time, in February of 1999 where I was sitting there, bored and the phone rang. This almost never happened, so I just picked it up and said, "Hello?"       "Hi, yeah, is this the Film Archive?"       "No, this is the gift shop for it and the museum. I can transfer you down to the archive if you want?"       "No, don't bother. No one's answering there. Listen, what's the program for films this month?"       "I don't know. This is the gift shop, but let me check." I ruffled through papers and found the program. "Looks like some black and white prints from the 40's. One or two minor short films. You can find it all online if you want."       "What?!! There aren't any African films being played down there?!!"       "Hmm, no, doesn't look like it."       "But this is Black History Month!"       "Oh yeah, I guess it is."       "This is a travesty. An outrage. Despicable. Despicable."       "Um, okay."       "Look, why are there no African films being shown for the month?"       "I don't know. I'm just a guy working in the bookstore."       "Come on, you've gotta know. I mean, how can you in good conscience tell me you don't know? This is belligerent racial insensitivity in its purest form."       My point of patience was gone with this guy and I pulled out my "race" card.       "Look, my family is originally Croatian. There has been a devastating civil war over there and they don't have anything, anywhere on this whole campus dedicated to it, let alone and entire month! Be thankful you get that."       "Ummm, okay put me through to the director."       "She's not here, but here's her number. Goodbye."       I probably wasn't supposed to give out the number, but then again, I also was just a guy working in the bookstore and not getting paid to deal with ax grinding boneheads. But, I brought up this whole story because as we were leaving after the screening, I looked around the audience and saw that it was maybe 10% black with the rest being mostly white. It just made me shake my head and realize that obviously my not solving the ax grinder's problem with the film program in 1999 has had vast and serious repercussions that has resulted in racial lethargy. Stupid me.

It didn't sound like much when I first heard about it. Someone calls you and then hangs up immediately before you pick up. You see the number and call them back. At least, this is what would happen in the US. This is a place where people have never-ending minutes on their cellphones and always find some way to pay their mobile bill, even if it is $500 like I overheard some idiot kid saying his was.       But, in Africa, things take on a different meaning. Everyone apparently has a cellphone, just not the money to use them. So, this "beeping" method is used and for those that I know who have lived there, it's a massive pain to deal with. My friend, Kim goes in to a greater amount of detail. You see, if you're white and your number gets out, you'll get flooded with calls as an expat living there. Read his article for all the grittiness.       This is also have some economic repercussions which Reuters has covered as well. While I'm of the opinion that cellphones are a pretty unnecessary technology, in a countries where landlines are few and far between, they're one of the few ways that people seem to be able to stay in contact with one another. So, at some point they'll have to figure out some way to deal with this flood of junk on their network. Maybe making text messages free or next to free? I will have more of a firsthand experience of this when I get to Africa next year.