Mr. President and the Traffic Jam

Who is Footing the Bill?

Yesterday, the manager of the hotel where I have been staying since my arrival in Brazzaville on August 30, 2010 informed me through Carlos, an English-speaking waiter from Cameroon, that she had not received payment for my stay. The manager was solemn and stern, and I could imagine her pounding on my door with an immediate eviction notice in one hand and an armed policeman in the other. I explained that the Ministry of Communication was responsible for my lodging and gave her the Minister’s direct cell phone number in addition to the phone numbers of two of my immediate supervisors at the embassy. A letter with the ministry seal promising to foot the bill was my final proof of good standing and reputable credit.

Somehow the letter I gave Jackson, who works at the front desk of the Hotel Leon, regarding payment of my hotel bill by the Ministry- the letter that my embassy supervisor had given to me that I couldn’t photocopy myself because I don’t have embassy photocopy privileges- was not given to the hotel manager.

This didn’t surprise me.

Due to the situation, I explained to my embassy supervisors that it would be highly beneficial for me if I could obtain another copy. Handing it directly to the manager was my new method of delivery when I returned to the hotel because I have the distinct impression I am at the top of her list of least desirable people.

She knows where I live.

Now, I will wait to see if the bill is paid.

Attempting to remedy my housing situation required about an hour of my time this morning. If the Internet connection had been less sluggish, I could have reduced that time to 30 minutes, but I work at a low bandwidth embassy. And when I went into work this morning, I was not able to use my computer because the electrician had to drill a hole in the wall to fix the malfunctioning overhead lights. When that was done, the computer technician updated my computer. I did manage to do lesson planning standing up tucked into a corner of the office avoiding the cleaning woman’s broom as she swept up the dust and wood chips from the electrician’s drilling operation.

After work, which ends at 12:30 on Friday afternoon, the taxi driver informed me that the reason for the snarled traffic jam delaying our progress was due to the president. Armed soldiers loitered on corner after corner as we crawled along. “What’s he doing today?” I wondered to myself. “Did he decide to go on a shopping spree in the center of the city, although there is not much to buy? Was he out for a Friday afternoon drive in his Porsche, visiting a lovely lady?” I would probably never know.

Turning on my computer after work is a highlight of my day, and today I couldn't wait to see if I could watch new episodes of my favorite television show Glee on hulu.com only to discover that it is not legal for hulu.com to stream video into France. Because even though I live in the Congo, the server I use is based in Paris. But I realized it would be impossible anyway. Congo is a low bandwidth country!

Another day in Brazzaville.