On the way over to Libenge, a border town with Central African Republic, we are late. Leaving late coupled with a bad road, not good. We set off at noon and at seven thirty I decide to switch with one of my colleagues and trade the car for the back of a motorbike. We are driving in the front so as not to eat their dust.

Congo Calling

About Saskia Roskam

Saskia Roskam, born in 1982 from a Cameroonian mother and a Dutch father, is travelling over the next six months through the Democratic Republic of Congo. In her fortnightly column entitled ‘Congo Calling’, Saskia shares with us the impressions of her journey.

By Saskia Roskam

Because we can manoeuvre ourselves better around the potholes, the bike is actually faster. Half an hour later we stop to wait for the rest to catch up. As we stop the lights of the bike dim and, along the roadside, some hundreds of the largest fireflies I have ever seen make their appearance. It was as if a group of fairies has descended on the grass. A blanket of light. Absolutely breathtaking.

In the distance the sky rumbles. A storm is on its way. Now this road we are travelling on is only 280 kilometres. A distance, which in any other developed country would take you only three hours. Here in Congo, it is feeling like an eternity.

At exactly eight o 'clock, the two other motorbikes and I arrive in a convent in the middle of nowhere. Driving into this small town with our headlights on I see the poles of unlit street lights. Once upon a time this city had electricity. Now we have only our headlights to help us out. At the convents the bikes stop and as the lights automatically turn off, it becomes pitch dark.

This is the kind of dark that runs shivers down your spine. It is as though someone has put off the light of life. In an instance all existence seems to have disappeared. I find my hand instinctively grabbing the person next to me. I do not want to feel alone. I can honestly say I have never seen a night like this. There is no moon. It is heavily overcast and there is no electricity in the village. A feeling of complete and utterly unreasonable fear comes over me. I have no logical explanation for it, but I am scared. It reminds me of when I was a little girl and I didn't want my parents to turn off the light in my room because of the fear of not being able to see in the dark.

At that moment the car arrives. And as it stops in front of the veranda from the old Belgian build convent, it starts pouring which brings a extra touch to this eerie scene.

It is only the following morning when I wake up that I actually see in what a beautiful lush green surroundings I am.