Chapter 2: Chapter 1.1
Chapter 2
Shortly after walking through the chaotic streets of Goma, memories of his stay there -and in fact in so many other African cities- flooded into his memory. The hustle and bustle, the crowds of people wandering for no apparent purpose or goal and the mixture of African scents took him ten years back in time, and he marveled at the thought that the landscape at that time had seemed picturesque, colorful, and even amusing. Today it was just sad and a little overwhelming. Caravans of people walking with huge bundles on their heads, which in most cases would be merchandise -in some cases odd- and in other cases all of their belongings, produced a slightly desolate feeling. His eyes followed a young boy carrying behind him a filthy bag that hung from his forehead with a kind of headband; the disproportion of the apparent weight of the bag and the size of the child shocked him. Slowly he tried to shake all the feelings from his mind and find himself again with that kind of mental armor that isolated his moral consciousness of what his senses perceived from the outside world, a kind of protection of his interiority without which he could not wander in Africa.
Finally the Canadian reached the door of the ramshackle hotel where he had made reservations for the night. The dilapidated appearance of the place shocked him and he wanted to continue, but in reality he did not know any better place and the fatigue and the need for a shower prevailed over his objections and he entered, approaching the desk attended by an African man dressed in a colored shirt while listening to shrill music from an old portable radio. As he checked in he prayed for water in the bathroom to get a shower.
After bathing under the thin stream of icy water, Romain had half dried and then lay on the narrow bed. As soon as he put his head on the pillow, the accumulated fatigue overcame him and he fell fast asleep.
In the fifth dream, a voice martyred his ears, although he couldn't be sure if it was real or part of the same dream. He tried to cover his ears with the pillow but the annoyance did not stop. Resignedly he opened his eyes and partially sat up in bed. It was then that he heard the childish voice on the other side of his bedroom door.
“Monsieur Mercier.”
“Oui.”
“There is a gentleman waiting for you in the hotel lobby.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Oui. He is Monsieur Yusuf.”
Hearing the visitor's name, Romain Mercier woke up and settled into reality.
“All right. Tell him to wait for me. I still have to get dressed.”
Ideas began to connect in his brain. The so-called Monsieur Yusuf -of whom he did not know the last name, and of whom he did not even know if Yusuf was his real name- had been recommended to him by his friend and colleague Robert Bruce, who had lived in the Democratic Republic of the Congo for a couple of years, before his return to Canada.
“He is a rascal who has contacts in official and unofficial circles in that region. The most valuable are the unofficial ones.” Had added Robert in a disenchanted tone.
He went down the stairs two flights to the ground floor and there, sitting on the rickety sofa that was the only furniture in the waiting area of the lobby, he saw him, a black, short and lean man, who looked as if the first strong wind would take him away. The little man got up from the chair and hurried towards him, extending his hand.
“Monsieur Mercier? I am Yusuf Kasali.” He said finally revealing his unknown last name.
Despite the Congolese's lean appearance, Romain received a favorable first impression from his interlocutor. His pulse was firm and he looked directly into the eyes so that it showed a certain frankness, that time would tell if it was real or not. Determining whether or not he could trust Yusuf was critical to the stranger, since his life and safety would depend on this man, particularly where they would go on their travels, riddled with bandits, rebels, dubious military loyalists, and corrupt officials. When he had asked his friend Robert how the situation was in the eastern Congo, the answer had been clear and unsettling.
“Since you were there ten years ago it has only gotten worse. The armed gangs have taken over large areas and exploit them at their discretion.”
The two men sat at the hotel bar and without delay began planning their journey. French was the common language since it was the native language of Romain in his native Quebec, and the lingua franca in Congo, in which all the ethnic groups living in the country understood each other.
"The first point to resolve is who else should we take with us." Said Romain.
“I hired my brother-in-law Jerome Kanza as guide and driver. It has an all-terrain Toyota that although it is somewhat ... battered ... is very suitable for the places we will have to travel. Jerome was born in North Kivu and knows the area perfectly.”
“Do you know the characters we should deal with?”
"Leav that up to me." Yusuf answered confidently.
“Shall we need an armed escort?”
“It's a useless expense. It would be of little use in an ambush in the jungle, nor could it confront government troops or rebel militias. Besides we wouldn't trust men who are basically mercenaries. We could be carrying a fifth column with us.”
The reasoning convinced Romain because it coincided with his previous experience in Africa. Then he asked.
“How… will we negotiate… with the officials, the military and the rebels?”
“In the same way with all of them. You must carry Congolese francs for most lower-rank and Euros for those of higher rank.”
“Drinks, gifts?”
“They do not need them, what they look for is the money. In addition, if we give them to drink an uncontrollable situation can be created.”
“How long do you calculate that we should be in North Kivu and South Kivu?”
“Two weeks in each province. More or less a month in total. It is what I told my wife.” Replied the Congolese.
“So, do we go out tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, at seven in the morning it's fine. At the exit of the city we will go through a general store to buy food and other provisions.” Yusuf hesitated to ask.” Do you have a weapon?”
Romain stared at him.
“Yes, a Glock pistol that always accompanies me on my expeditions. And you?”
“I have a WWII German pistol.”
“Do we need long weapons?”
“Jerome always has two carbines in his truck.”
“Do you have updated GPS and maps of the area.”
“GPS would be useful where we go. There are some old colonial maps but basically we will rely on Jerome's knowledge and instincts, and the directions the locals give us. The dirt roads that we will go do not appear on any map because nobody is interested in them being known.”
“You will take tents to spend the nights in the jungle.”
“Yes. We carry one for you and one for Jerome and me. Do you have a sleeping bag?”
“Yes. I always carry mine.”
“See you tomorrow then.”
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone