By Peter Young
Many of my adventures happened in one or other of the Congos.
One was originally called Zaire when I first visited (Belgian Congo and currently the DRC) and the other was Congo Brazzaville (French Congo).
The two countries’ capitals face each other across the mile wide Congo river.
Happy times included encountering Mme LeRoi, known as the Congo Gorilla Lady, in the Brazzaville airport terminal – she shared her press clippings with me of the many lowland gorillas she had saved at her sanctuary – and we subsequently supported her efforts as a company.
In Zaire I met some amazing characters, like M’Batchi, a genial giant who showed us around the tiny but beautiful coast of Banana, Vista and Muanda.
Maurice Lumbala was a hugely infectious character who safely guided us around Kinshasa night life – I will never forget dancing into the small hours in a tiny cafe, where locals encouraged us by sticking Zaire bank notes to our sweaty brows. The music was mainly High Life, although there were also some Latin rhythms in there as well!
One sunny trip there included spending Sunday afternoons diving off the huge, smooth boulders that fringed the Congo into the river with Willy Delmeire our heroic Belgian security manager – much to the horror of colleague Denise, who could only think of the crocodiles- and the diseases – borne down that muddy river!
One Sunday afternoon on an earlier trip, we managed to borrow two Jeeps and seven of us set out to see the rope bridge across the Yellow River. The roads were sandy and very bumpy, so the crates of Coke, Fanta and Tembo beer in the vehicles got well and truly shaken up en route! So much so, that no one was willing to open any!
We parked up by some sand dunes in the jungle, close enough to be able to hear the river. We set off single file through the forest, and could hear but not see the monkeys fleeing through the canopy overhead.
We found the rope bridge – straight out of Indiana Jones’s, and decided that it was sturdy enough for us all to cross. Below us the river oozed slowly in the heat, and we all knew that somewhere in there, were crocodiles.
On the far bank, we had to stay in single file as the track between the trees was so narrow. I was about third in line and soon started hearing other people in the group – front and back – shouting and even screaming.
Behind me were Andy and Hilary and pretty soon I knew they were in distress – not least because they were thumping me on my back, to try to get me to either speed up or to get past me!
Meanwhile I heard loud buzzing and some small, hard objects zinging into my ears and any exposed skin on my head. I found this mildly annoying, but was more concerned about the others who had some emergency going on!
Eventually I found a cut in wide enough to let the people behind me past. As they ran by, arms wildly flailing, I could see their heads and bare arms were entirely black, covered in swarming, stinging African bees! They were followed by a long cloud of irate killer bees, dive bombing them both.
Despite our shouts, both decided they were safer in the river. So, despite warnings of crocodiles, they dunked themselves under the water, pulling hundreds of bees from their scalps.
Eventually the attackers dispersed and we headed back to the vehicles. We radioed from there, asking the clinic on the compound for advice- they said to put in a call to the London School of Tropical Medicine, on Monday, from the safety of the compound.
Many of the group were, not surprisingly, in shock, and we feared for a deadly reaction to the stings. It was essential that we got back asap.
We then found that both vehicles had settled nicely into the sand and needed pushing out. Despite our best efforts, we could not budge them.
Then, as if they had been watching us all along, a dozen local kids popped out of the bush, only too happy to help push us out of the sand – in return for some warm, fizzy Coke and Fanta!
The London School of Tropical Medicine duly advised us on the Monday that if we had had any bad reaction to the bees, we would already have been dead! –
Peter Young