Flat Tire: Not the Beer

A few weeks ago we bought a set of tires for the Pajero. We deliberated between buying the Cobras, a Congolese brand that were less expensive, and the more expensive imports from Japan or America. Because the Pajero is already 15 years old, we opted for the less espensive ones, paying around $850.00 USD. After having them mounted on the vehicle, our chauffeur calmly announced that we had made a poor choice, because Cobras are inferior quality and will last about six months. I thanked him for his opinion, but told him his timing was a little off.

Tires really take a hit here, due to the heat and multiple holes and rocks. You would think that in a city of 8 million people there would be one street that is nicely paved, but I haven't found it yet. It was no surprise this morning when Abbey text messaged me to say she'd be late picking me up for church because we had a slow leak in one of the tires. Fortunately, Lino was working today at the M&L and was able to put on the spare, advising Abbey to have the tire repaired later. We arrived in church about 11:30, just a few minutes after the service began, because of the usual 30 minute delay due to the French service before our's running way overtime. All is well.

After church a group of us decided to go out for lunch at a Portuguese restaurant. I had the 1/2 chicken, several people got the pizza, others got salads. It was air-conditioned.

On to the M&L where Lino gave us instructions to go down the block to a tire repair place, making sure that a Congolese gentleman got in the car with us in order to translate into Lingala for us. It was about 95 degrees outside. How do I describe this place? Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of the image in front of us at the tire shop. As you may know, photos are illegal in Congo, so I felt uncomfortable even sneaking a photo out my window to the left. The 20' x 20' space was filled with litter, crawling with people, chickens, music from the bar next door, kids carrying money, men carrying one-foot high stacks of hard boiled eggs on their heads, women carrying 24-bottle cases of beer and soda on their heads, women carrying trays of food on their heads. Nothing happens inside the buildings; all the work is performed outside. The sewer was right next to me. A young man, about twenty years old, got up from his table at the bar when he noticed Abbey (who doesn't notice a blond young mundele?) and with a big-toothed grin hung on her window and tried to talk with her. The owner yelled at him and told him to go away. He did. Then the Lingala guy hung on the window and insisted that we had to pay him because...because...because... We assured him we would pay him. Meanwhile, the drunk weirdo found a hard boiled egg and peeled it with his teeth, spitting out the shell in front of us and proceeded to eat it with his mouth open. He motioned to us, as if to say, "Wouldn't you like to share this with me?"

About 45 minutes later, the three small holes were patched for $2.00 each and we returned to M&L where Joseph mounted it on the car for another $5.00 and we were good to go. At least for today.

Photos: Scene next to the tire repair place; Joseph making the repair.