Gunshots in the Night

A cinquantenaire performance Tanya attended

Bukavu — June 30^th is not just any other day in DR Congo.  And June 30^th 2010 was certainly not just any other day in DR Congo.  It was the country’s 50^th birthday.  To mark the event, the government and the Congolese people went all out.  They threw a birthday extravaganza that included parades, singing, dancing, theatre, and fireworks. 

I had the privilege of being in Bukavu, the capital of South Kivu province in Eastern Congo for the celebrations. But I won’t remember June 30^th 2010 as the anniversary of Congo, but as the day I thought I was caught in an outbreak of war!

For the cinquantenaire (the name of the 50^th Anniversary of Congo in French), I was invited by one of my colleagues at Search to a performance by his theatre troupe on the history of DR Congo.  I was very lucky because it was a performance reserved for the city’s elites.  Amongst the Governor of South Kivu, the chief of the police, army officers, politicians, family members and friends was me. 

The performance was supposed to start at 3 pm, but with Africa time, I knew it would be at least an hour later. Well, I was wrong.  DR Congo is in and of a category of its own.  The performance started three and a half hours behind schedule.  Forget Africa time, this is Congo time.  No complaints though as I was happy just to be there. And the performance, which included singing, dancing and acting, was worth the wait.

My Burundian housemate, Nestor, was in Kampala for the holiday so when my boss dropped me after the performance, it was too an empty house. A mere half hour after he left, gunshots erupted! 

For a few minutes I was frozen with fear, but instinct kicked in and I jumped up turned off all the lights, and ran out, to see the guard.  In a frazzled mix of French and Swahili, I cried “What’s happening?  Are those gunshots?  Is Bukavu under attack?”

I would not have been so frightened had there not been rumors that rebels groups across the country were planning on disrupting the cinquantenaire celebrations. Bukavu, unfortunately, is in a region that has its fair share of armed groups, and has been besieged by them before.

The guard was lying in his longjohns listening to the radio in his booth, but once he heard my quivering voice and saw the fear on my face he jumped up and assured me that the shots were for the cinquantenaire. Embarrassed but reassured I walked back to the house and turned on the lights. 

A few minutes later my boss called me.  His first words: “Tanya, I just wanted to tell you not to panic, the shots you’re hearing are just for the cinquantenaire.”

A bit too late for that.