CONGO: HANGING IN THE BALANCE

IN GOMA, IN THE SHADOW OF MOUNT NYIRAGONGO, SOCIAL AND ENVIRONMENTAL FORCES SIMMER BELOW THE SURFACE AND AN UNEASY TENSION HANGS IN THE AIR. WORDS: NIKKI SCRIVENER

The wind kisses my face as we fly out of the city. Anxiously, I cling to the back of the stranger in whose hands I’ve so perilously placed my life. The straps of my helmet whirl about my face, adding to my general sense of disorientation. With agility and ease, he dodges potholes and oncoming traffic, showing little concern for our safety. Other bikes pull up alongside us, but with a quick twist of the wrist, we race on, leaving only a cloud of dust rising between ourselves and the city of Goma as we accelerate into the wild, untamed countryside of the Democratic Republic of Congo. The volcano is now in sight; it grows larger and more imposing every few metres.

The backstreets of Goma are disfigured by the hardened black mass of volcanic rock that only recently flowed like a deadly river through the city. The solidified lava rock twists and turns through alleyways and along narrow roads; a constant reminder of the threat posed by Mount Nyiragongo, which sits just 12 miles north and keeps a constant, menacing watch over the town. The volcano erupted in 2002, destroying

15% of Goma and leaving over 100,000 homeless. The summit of this deadly mountain is my destination.

Earlier in the morning, as I’d strolled along Boulevard Kanya Mulanga, I gained a sense of the two worlds that coexist in this troubled city. The scent of freshly baked pastries and brewing coffee wafts gently from the French boulangeries. Meanwhile, a constant stream of sparkling white UN armoured trucks and 4x4s flows by.

The United Nations peacekeeping presence in the DRC is unmatched almost anywhere else in the world.

This country, containing one of the greatest supplies of natural resources on Earth, has suffered years of war and exploitation from Western powers and internal forces alike. This morning, the occupants of these fortified vehicles wave as they pass by, unaccustomed to witnessing a lone tourist in the sea of Congolese faces.

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