Many a trip continues long after movement in time and space have ceased - John Steinbeck

1-5 July 2019, Cabinda
Missão Catolica 2,500Kz (R111) [donation]

On July 1, we were at the Soyo airport at 07:00 as requested, to find that the young man who was to issue our tickets was not on duty until the time our flight was due to leave. We had been “guaranteed” seats on today’s flight by the “chef”, but did not have the comfort and certainty of physical tickets. As we were trying to explain yesterday’s discussions to the young woman on duty, the chef came by, said something to her, and we were on. Our small plane, the cockpit open to the cabin and each window seat also an aisle seat, made the hop to Cabinda in under 15 minutes. Unfortunately, it was a cloudy day so we saw almost nothing of the Congo river. Our entire Congo river experience was stolen from us by bureaucracy. First we were denied visas to the DRC on the grounds that the Luanda embassy issues visas to Angolan citizens only (so short-sighted), so we did not get to cross the mouth from Soyo to Banana, a trip we had fantasised about for months, nor cross the river between Kinshasa and Brazzaville. Then Soyo emigration insisted we fly to Cabinda, so we missed the mouth again. Grrrrr…
We met up with Blanca at the Catholic Mission, and after lunch took a taxi out to the “port” where the Soyo boats “dock” hoping to collect our promised bikes. I use quotes as the port is a stretch of beach on which the boats land, nothing formal and nothing against which to in fact dock. We were told by the agent that the boat had not yet arrived and that we should return after 17:00. We called the agent in Soyo who promised that the captain would call us when he arrived, which he did. Having spoken to him, it was clear it would be better to collect our bikes in the morning.
Charl and I arranged with Father Futi to use a room at the Mission instead of camping, our tent being with the bikes, and ended spending five nights in the room, with en suite bathroom, which was great for us.
In the morning we taxied out to the port again just in time to see the bikes being unloaded from “our” boat. The entire process was so informal, yet so functional, it was enchanting. I was documenting the offloading and the scene by taking photographs when a bad tempered policeman, the first encountered in Angola, hurried over to tell me to delete the pictures, which I was very reluctant to do. I deleted the last photo I had taken and managed to distract him as I deleted the second last; as he was too impatient or perhaps overconfident to check carefully, I managed to keep most of the shots taken on the beach that day.
We had not realised when applying for our Congo visa that the embassy would write in a very specific entry date rather than a time span during which the visa remains valid for entry. When they asked us when we would enter the country, therefore, we did not take it very seriously and gave them a date (July 8) prior to our required exit date (July 12) for Angola. So we found ourselves with time on our hands and decided to while it away in Cabinda. We caught up the blog at a nearby hotel which allowed us to use their wifi in exchange for the few drinks we imbibed there, did the washing, ate out, shopped for the road, and watched movies.