Wings of darkness

I'll spare you the Joseph Conrad cliches about the past week in Congo (mostly because I haven't read the book -- I know, I know, but it's on my list). Let's just say our luck went from bad to worse, then finally started to tick upward by midweek. Most of the hassles have stemmed from traveling on United Nations flights, which are the only real way to get around Congo, a country that they say is the size of Western (read "old") Europe. These flights are free and relatively convenient, but as they say, you get what you pay for.

Flying with the UN as a journalist means you are the last-priority passenger (apparently, peacekeepers trying to secure the end of a war that has killed at least 3 million people get first dibs). Some of the planes are Russian-made Antonovs that look as if they should be behind glass at the Moscow air and space museum. At the airport I was left to guess what time the flight would leave. They sometimes cancel or postpone these flights without telling anyone. Today, for example, I asked five different uniformed airport personnel what time my flight to Bunia would be, and I got five different answers: "1 pm," "1:30 pm," "3:30 pm," "3 to 4 pm," and my personal favorite, "What is Bunia?"

I'll post again over the weekend with some pictures.