The back of the back of the back of the beyond of the back of beyond - manono

UM Bungo – “Way down deep in the middle of the Congo………” was my first impression of Congo, albeit when I was a few years old. Second impression was “Jaysus”. After a night in Brussels, a night in Kigali we eventually made it across to basalt Goma in DRC, which was a little blackened from either the volcano erupting a few years ago or the war. From there it was a mere 2 and half hour flight by light aircraft to get to Manono. The light aircraft trip was great. After managing to smuggle 58kg of bags onto Aer Lingus (20kg limit), SN Brussels (40kg limit) I decided to be up front to the crew of Airserv about my baggage. Although this was more from a self preservation point of view considering the horror stories of flights in DRC which the pilots were sharing with me the night before in the pub. Although Airserv does have the safest aviation record in DRC having only crashed once this year. They did a fly over of downtown Manono before landing on the runway/dirt track to give us an appreciation of just where exactly we would be spending the next year. And hey presto have been here for over 8 weeks now enjoying the sun, sand and occasional earthquakes. Manono, well it’s a bit like the Planet of the Apes setting. It’s a derelict town after the Government mining company went bust – nothing to do with the value of the mines more to do with corrupt government. Lets just say that when the Presdient of the country builds himself a concorde runaway by his house and charters them to fly in pink champagne from France you have to dig out a lot of cobalt to pay for it. Manono itself is a collection of mud huts and derelict buildings. There are some strange things around this place that remind of times gone by. There is a big Butchers shop beside us, an empty overgrown swimming pool, a tennis court, a crazy overgrown golf course and an enormous power plant – all abandoned. There are water towers, power pylons and telegraph poles again all abandoned. There are no services in Manono. People haven’t stripped them or looted them primarily cause they cant bring it anywhere. The only transport by vehicle means is GOAL, UN or the one local business man who has one lorry which looks like it could have been the product of a Johnny Cash song. The 2 of us have a 4-bed detached house to ourselves. It even has Satellitte TV. Quite nice. Its located in a secluded part of an old mining compound. Not too far away is the squat toilet. I remember the toilets in Germany had this kinda ledge so that when you had a dump you could examine your stool afterwards. The squat toilet here has a 1m deep pit below, so in an even more efficient manner than the German toilet engineers you can examine your stool from weeks ago if need be. Asumming you know which one is yours of course. I have gotten to know this part of the extended house very well recently. Having tested our water source today and noticed that by boiling and filtering it we are only killing 98 of the 100 fectal bacteria I can understand why it is the most visited room in the extended house. BTW the locals use unboiled untreated water. Hence the need for wells ! Anyways as with any trip into any office this one is expecially torturous. In fact so much so that I sometimes walk around the house to try a make it seem as though its at least 100m away. The office is in the mining base a well. So is the other living quarters of the other expat staff whom have the remote control for the satellite. i.e. we have to watch what they watch. The Canadian girl here at the moment tends to spend an amazing amout of time watching BBC food. As if the food here wasn’t shite enough she goes and tortures us further. Recreation here has taken a turn for the better recently. Personally I think it coincided with the shipment of about 250 cans of beer, 30 bottles of wine and 4 bottles of Whiskey but that’s just my opinion. The guy buying the stuff thought there was a mistake with the order as it was an order for 9 people and yet after 8 people paid he had only received less than half the cash. Anyways I had to send an embaressing email to him and cc to by boss explaining that in fact at least half the order was for me, person number 9. My boss being of course Catherine who has her own opinions abut my alcoholic tendencies. Managed to wrangle it though saying as paddies day was coming up. First proper session here was in fact Paddies day. Five weeks after landing I eventually had a session cumulating in me crashing out with a bottle of whiskey to my face – it brings a smile to my face when I think of it now. I think it brought a smile to my staffs faces as well but for different reasons. The Africans love their speeches and ceremonies. Visiting construction sites normally draws a crowd (there are only 2 white men in Manono) and no doubt a speech from a local representative. One of the more interesting speeches by a headmaster as we were visiting a well was : “Ever since God created this wonderful planet this is the first time these people have had safe drinking water” – which of course puts everything into perspective and makes you feel like your presence is at least somewhat more appreciated than Gods. Although he does have a bigger house and people tend to worship him more. Work revolves around building capacities and buildings. My portfolio of jobs range from depot constructions, maternitys and health centers, schools, homes for GOALie’s, road and bridge construction, port rehabilitation and water, hygiene and sanitation as need be. There is another engineer just arrived from Sligo to concentrate on the water, hygiene and sanitation stuff. Ironicaly he has a tendancy to drink much the same as myself which is welcome relief. And ironically he had spent quite a lot of his drinking time in the company of Brian whom he worked with in London. Small world. All is cool at the moment and we are on R&R for the next week after 8 weeks in the field. Dearly needed as well. Working and living in the same place takes its toll, and as for the 4 bedroom detached house – well it’s a hut made of mud. Anyways, Adios, Padraig.