10 July 2022

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Chapter 3 - Mother and Daughter: Together Forever.


Chapter 4: Courage, Effort and Success

Chapter : Goodbye Robyn

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Chapter : Memories of Africa

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Chapter : System Ideologies and the Emergence of Consciousness and Civilization.


10 March 2017

South Africa: the dream turned into a nightmare


South Africa: the dream turned into a nightmare


I am writing because I am in a desperate situation because of my South African visa. At first glance, it is reasonable to think a visa is not such an important thing, that could be the cause of such critical circumstances. However, if I am able to tell my full story, it would be easy to understand, I indeed find myself under extreme stress and hardship, without me having done anything to deserve the punishment I am facing.

Summarizing it really briefly, I am a Swiss/Spanish man with a severe visual disability (I am legally blind with only about 5% visual accuity left). I am currently alone (without any close friends or relatives), in the surroundings of Cape Town. I first came to South Africa by car. Me and my wife traveled in our 1974 Land Rover Series III, from spain, all across Africa, all the way down to cape Town. It was an amazing experience. We were so euphoric when we reached South Africa: we had made it! We were having a blast in our first weeks in Cape Town. south Africa is pretty developed, so we felt like home. We had left behind all the struggles and difficulties of all other less developed countries in Africa. However, one day, all of a sudden, everything collapsed: my wife disappeared early in the morning and did not come back until sunset, just to tell me she was going to leave me: some casanova mechanic had stepped between un and splitted us off. He had been seducing her and eating her mind, until she ended up leaving me, screaming I was a useless blind man. However, like most disabled people, I am a fighter. I am a strong person. I have traveled across 70 countries and I never give up. This time, I was not going to throw myself to the ground and cry either. I was going to figure things out. I decided I was going to show my wife I may be blind, but not useless. I came back to Cape Town determined to sort everything out: first I needed to repair the Land Rover. Then, I was going to get everything ready again. Lastly, I was going to need somebody who would like to drive and travel with me. As a matter of fact, something inside kept telling me, if I was able to sort everything out, if I could get by myself everything ready, my wife would wake up and she would be my travel companion. However, Cape Town is a rather rough place for a pedestrian, who cannot drive, and I have gone through quite an ordeal to get everything ready. I have been assaulted twice in the last month. I have gone through days without eating, because I had to walk 5kms to the nearest shop and it is very dangerous to walk in Cape Town. But I did it!: With the help of David, at Roverland, I was able to figure out what was the real problem with the car and got it running again. Thanks to Greg, I got the solar panels and the dual battery system setup, I got my new car freezer wired up. I finished the roof rack. I got my Hannibal rooftop tent figured out, etc. Sadly, by the time I had finally everything sorted out, I only had one week left on my South African visa. Since it became quickly clear it would be impossible to extend my tourist visa, I decided I will fly out of South Africa before my visa's expiration date, and then come back after some weeks, to get ninety more days on my visa; that would allow me to also travel across and see south Africa. However, I was assaulted on my way to the airport to take my plane. Then it became impossible to leave South Africa before my visa would expire. The punishment I now face for overstaying my visa is merciless. I am told I have to give up everything: I have to give up my Land ROver and all my dreams to travel across Africa; all my work, efforts and energies over the last year. I have to leave South Africa immediately and accept I will be banned from coming back for at least one year.  

We had first arrived to South Africa on New Year's Eve of 2015, after crossing the Namibian dessert. We were totally euphoric: we have made it! We had just crossed all Africa, all the way from Spain and reached South Africa! we were now leaving behind all the difficulties and struggles involved with traveling across all other less developed countries in Africa. In South Africa we felt like home: we went to see the new Star Wars movie on IMax, We were going shopping and buying nice food without spending a fortune. we were again enjoying "ice scream"! We went to Robben Island, we hiked Table Mountain. From now on, everything was going to be so much easier. In Cape Town we were going to be able to prepare and get fully equipped for our return journey across Eastern africa, even better than when we first left Europe. South Africa has leading, world-class technology in overlanding and we were going to be able to find everything we needed for our adventure: car freezer, rooftop tent, etc. Now we also needed a roof rack to free space inside the car and set up everything. moreover, south Africans appreciate and know 4x4 vehicles like our old Land Rover much better than in Europe. Here we would finally find the skills, parts and equipment to completely fix up our car.

We were referred to go talk to a mechanic in Killarney Gardens, who could build a roof rack for our car. Gary, however, explained he does not really work for the money and he only works on what he enjoys. He really did not feel like building a roof rack, but, as he appreciated and was impressed with our story, he would be happy to help us, if we were ready to build it ourselves. He would be happy to tell us what needed to be done, teach us how to do it, and let us use all the tools and equipment necessary. He explained he was not interested in the money; it was true, he was interested in conquering my wife...

We were naive: we only saw it was an excellent proposition. We were going to learn new skills, have fun and we would be able to get all fixed up very affordably. We therefore spent the following weeks in Gary's workshop; building the roof rack and working on our Land Rover. Actually, since I am severely visually disabled, it was my wife, Alia, who was doing most of the work. She and Gary went along really well. Gary is a heavy smoker and, as he had explained, not the most hard-working person. So he would constantly take smoke breaks, go check how Alia was doing and have some chat. I could see them hanging out together quite long times, but I thought it would be stupid of me to feel jealous. Gary is 57 (thirty years older than Alia), he is on his third marriage and has two married sons. I know Alia's biggest dream has always been to build a family. I thought I knew Alia was intelligent and would never fall for a man like Gary.

However, one morning Alia disappeared and did not come back until sunset, to tell me she was going to leave me, because she was sick of dragging around a blind man. The next day she told me she was going to stay with Gary the next several days, until she takes her flight back home to the US. That really hurt me very deeply and so i complained and asked my wife not to stay with Gary. Gary and Alia went as far as lieing about my wife trying to hang herself, in order to get me shut up and out of their way. 

Thus, all of a sudden, I found myself from living the most amazing adventure of our lives, to be abandoned, alone in a city as dangerous and violent as Cape Town, stuck with a broken down car, which I could not even drive if it were running. But I am a fighter and I never give up. I will never throw myself to the ground and start crying over my misfortune. I said I was going to show my wife, I may be blind but not useless. I was going to get back on my feet and sort things out with or without her.

It has been quite an ordeal, as it is extremely complicated and dangerous to move around a city as big and vast as Cape Town; particularly for somebody who cannot drive. First I had to repair the car, but most mechanics were trying to rip me off; I looked so desperate and vulnerable, they thought I would be an easy prey. Nevertheless, thanks to David at Roverland, I was able to figure out what was the real problem and confirm only a minor repair was needed. So, I was finally able to fix my Land Rover and get it ready. I was also able to sort out everything: thanks to Greg, I got my solar panels wired up, so that I had an alternative source of power, if my batteries go again flat in the middle of the dessert. Greg also helped me setting up the dual battery system. I also manage to wire up the car freezer, the rooftop tent, etc. With everything figured out, it should be easy to find people wanting to drive and travel with me.
 
Disappointingly, the problem I was now facing was, my South African visa was getting close to expire. At first glance, it may seem the 90 days allowed by the South African tourist visa, is more than enough time. However, all this endeavor of putting everything back together and get again ready has been extremely difficult and complicated.

In the last month I have been assaulted twice and have suffered a handful of other attempts of assault. Since i am not able to drive, the only way for me to move around is by public transportation; but this is very dangerous. Here everybody keeps insisting I should not trust anybody (at the same time they say that, however, they expect me to trust them0. But, since I do not see well, I constantly need to ask for help; but then, if I trust the person offering help, I risk to fall in a trap.

My Land Rover was in a farm and I had a 5km walk to get to the nearest shop. I have gone through days without eating, because I did not have any food. I was insisted I would be crazy if I try to walk alone in Cape Town; it is very dangerous and somebody will end up chopping my throat to get my phone. As a matter of fact, one month ago, I had my smartphone stolen. Fortunately, they did not need to chop my throat to get it; but it certainly made everything even more complicated for me. I lost most of my contacts, I have been several days unable to communicate, I have not been able to use some mobile applications that are critical for me; like GPS navigation, video magnifier and Uber. Having my smartphone stolen gave me one other task to solve: I had to find and buy a new smartphone. But not just any phone would do it, because I need something very special, with a big screen, so that I can see it and use it well.

Since it was becoming clear it was not going to be possible to get everything ready, get back on the road, travel across South Africa and leave before my visa would expire, I investigated what were the options I could have my South African tourist visa extended (although I have always heard it is extremely difficult). one week ago I called my consulate, and I was told it would be impossible. I was adviced to take a flight out of South Africa and come back after a few weeks. Otherwise, if I overstayed my visa, even if it were for just one day, I would risk being deported and be banned from being allowed back in South Africa for at least one year. 

As disappointing and absurd as it was, since it became clear it was the only option, I decided to book a flight to go to Madagascar on March 9th.. However, on that Thursday, I was assaulted when I was trying to catch a taxi, on my way to the airport. After the attack, I still tried to put myself back together, but it just became impossible to get on any flight that would take me out of South Africa before my visa would expire.

Last Thursday, March 9th, on my way to the airport, I went to Bellville, as I know, there is a bus and taxi terminal next to Bellville train station. As soon as I made it there, I started asking where I could find a taxi that would take me to the airport. Very quickly somebody offered help to guide me to the right place. However, soon I could notice he was feeling my pockets; in fact, he had already started unzipping one of them. I reacted quickly by running away from him. Then I started hearing some man announcing the momentary departure of a taxi to the airport. I found it quite a coincidence, so felt a bit suspicious, but perhaps it was just my turn to be lucky, so I approached the man to ask. He confirmed his taxi would be leaving soon to the airport. He asked me to step a bit out of the crowd and wait. It was all a trick; the man should have heard I was looking for a taxi to the airport. The man guided me behind some van and as soon as he had me there he tried to stick his hand in my pants' left pocket. I started screaming for help immediately and he ran off right away.

It became very clear to me I was in serious danger. There was quite a crowd around there, but obviously many of those people were there trying to commit a crime. I felt like swimming in a pool with a school of piranhas. I thought I would start screaming: "security!, security!", hoping  that some security agent would come help me. Nobody came. I approached a group of people, asking where I could find a security agent; one man told me to "f*** off". Finally, somebody pointed me towards a security office. I was afraid it would be again a trick; but this time it was true. I told the security agent inside, they had already tried to rob me twice. I needed help finding a taxi to go to the airport. Unfortunately, the security agent was busy with some other stuff and was not paying much attention to me. Another man standing at the security office, then told me there was "over there, very close" a taxi that could take me to the airport. Since the man was standing right next to the security office, I thought I could trust him. I therefore followed him back to the curb. But no taxi seemed to be right there. The man asked me to follow him up the street. But we reached the corner and I was still not able to see any taxi. I started getting worried again. A couple of more men had gathered around me offering help. Then a woman was coming from behind. As she was getting closer she kept explaining there was a taxi stop right there, She told me she knew those men who were trying to help me, and I could trust them. She offered herself to guide me to the taxi stop; since she was a girl, I did not have anything to fear. The men left and I started following the woman. I was moving away from the crowd further and further. Following the woman did not seem to help; it still looked like we would never get to any taxi.

All of a sudden the men reappeared. One of them grab me by the jacket and started talking to me agressively: "See white man...". I tried to free myself and get out of there as quicly as possible. I also started desperately screaming for help. It was, however, too late, the other men had also already got a hold of me and they were pushing me to the ground. I was also now too far from the crowd that the men would get concerned somebody may hear my screams and come to my help. The cars that were passing right next to us would ignore as well everything that was happening. I realized I was now in a very dangerous situation and I may be getting to the end of my life. I thought my only option to stop the attack was to drag myself towards the middle of the road, so that we would obstruct traffic and, that way, force the cars to intervene. That saved me: as we were now in the middle of traffic, the cars started honking, causing the men to finally leave me alone. I tried hard to get back on my feet. As I was sitting on the road, I could still see a few of my things lying around me and the men and the woman quickly picking them up before running away. I could still see my bag of eye-medicines to my left and my big, white, plastic bag with food to the right. As one man took the white, plastic bag, I still manage to say: "it's just food!".  The man opened the bag, looked inside, confirmed it was only food and then decided to put the bag back on the ground and run away. As I shifted my sight to the left, looking for my bag of medicines, the person who had taken it had already disappeared: I just cannot help feeling so bad for not being quick enough to explain, those were just medicines...

I was devastated. I asked for help to the people I saw walking towards me. I tried to explain them I was blind and I had just been assaulted. Nobody stopped: they all passed by, without even turning their eyes towards me. As best as I could, I dragged myself back to the security office. Then they did help me. Finally, I was able to get to the airport. However, at that time, there were only two planes left to take me out of the country: one to London-Heathrow and the other to Amsterdam. Unfortunately, both were fully booked. I repeatedly, for several times, asked and insisted to be allowed to speak with a South African immigration officer; the airline representative and the airport authorities insisted to deny me that option. Finally, my South African visa expired before I could do anything to leave the country.

I am breken and destroyed. I have been beaten up and ripped off. I am alone. But that all is not the worst of it. The worst is the fear I feel now for the South African security forces. I know, since they have already told me and I have already witnessed, they will not do absolutely anything against the people who attacked and assaulted me. In all honesty, I need to say, I know that would be the same anywhere in the world. The worst and what is most devastating to me is that it is actually me who is facing the most merciless punishment. Now I am instructed to give up everything: I am told I need to give up my car, I need to give up my dreams and all my work, efforts and energies during this last year. I am being instructed to immediately exit South Africa and accept I will be banned from being allowed back for at least one year.

It is just not fair nor reasonable: I have always done everything possible to follow the rules. I have not harmed nor caused any damage to anybody. More to the contrary, I have made quite a significant spending in South Africa. I just ask I am allowed to peacefully leave the country with my car, If I need to be banned from coming back to South Africa, I will accept it. But, please, do not tell me to give up everything,

I would be endlessly grateful, if I were given the chance to explain to a South African representative with enough authority, what has happened to me and the problem I am facing. I am sure the South African authorities would have no problem to understand and act with justice, if they are given the chance to hear my story.










29 December 2015

My question refers to a conflict I currently have with my wife. My wife left me 2.5 years ago, while we were traveling across Africa and it has been impossible to communicate with her ever since then:I have been unable to have a single conversation with her since she left me in Cape Town in Feb 2016 (after she fell in love with a 56-years old cassanova South African asshole).
 We married in Missoula in Jun 2010 and, although the first two yearss were complicated (she is very immature and we had frequent, stupid fights for irrelevant reasons, like she getting mad at me because I would suggest she rise the seat of her bicycle) we had build a very strong relationship (she cared for her marriage very much and was intelligent enough to realize there was no point in starting a fight for the first stupid reason). Everybody who knew or met us was impressed and inspired by how solid we were, how much we loved eachother. Right after our wedding I had to leave the country and we spent two years traveling all across Central America and Europe. Afterwards, we lived 2.5 wonderful years in Missoula. We both wanted to have children and build a family, but we thought, before settleing down we would do one last crazy adventure: we flew to Spain, where we bought a Land Rover with which to travel all across Africa, from Spain to South Africa. It was an amazing experience and (as everybody could witness) we were both very happy when we finally reached Cape Town, South Africa in Jan 2016. She liked to sing this song she had come up with when we were still in Spain preparing for our journey: "It's Monkey and Bunny and Robert, It's Monkey and Bunny and Robert, Off to see the world!!". Our life was like a remake of "Adventure Time", her favorite children TV show. It's just that we were Monkey and Bunny, as she suggested at the beginning of our 1-year long European trip. I was Monkey, she was the cute Bunny and Robert was our Land Rover across Africa.
In Cape Town we met a Land Rover mechanic (Gary) who told us he wanted to help us get our car all fixed up, equipped and ready for our way back North. However, we had to do the work, he was going to teach us what and how to do it and let us use his tools. Actually, my wife was going to do the work, since I am severely visually impaired. We could not imagine then, the man's real plan was to keep us around, so that he could have enough time to conquer my wife. After 4 weeks at Gary's workshop, one morning my wife got up and immediately left to disappear for the whole day. She only returned at sunset to tell me: "she was going to leave me because she was sick of dragging me around the supermarkets". She then asked me if I had something to say about it and, since I hadn't, she spent the rest of the evening crying. The next day, at dinner time, I told her I did not wanted to be a burden for her; she did not have to cook dinner for me, I would do it myself. She got angry and told me she was going to go stay with Gary and his wife from then on. I got shocked. She also started saying I should also take responsibility for my mistakes, because, if I thought I had not done anything wrong, I was as wrong as she was". The next day, when she came back to the workshop, I told her I thought we should talk. We drove to some beach,. I started by asking what it was that I had done wrong, but after 1-2 hours talking, she got mad  (when I started remembering the many fights she started for the most stupid reasons, at the beginning of our relationship) and drove away, leaving me stranded on that beach for the night. The next day, back in the workshop, I was told she had tried to commit suicide that evening at the workshop (I am not sure how serious she was about it, since she was alone when it happened and nobody could stop her). Gary never wanted a relationship with her, he only wanted to conquer a 30 year younger white, blond, blue-eyed "American chick, so in love with her pathetic blind husband". So, after one week, she flew back from Cape Town to  ontana.
All since then she has been pointing fingers at me and putting all the blame on me. According to her, she has always taking responsibility for her mistakes, but I never have. I am convinced she got messed up by that cassanova asshole (Gary). She made an horrible mistake trusting him and desperately falling in love with him and now is not being able to take responsibility for our marriage failure. Our marriage was of supreme importance to her and it hurts her very deeply to think she blew it up. It is more comforting to convince herself our marriage was horrible and nothing to mourn over. I believe her parents also helped her in that (they never liked me and hated we married. She is their only child and when we married, as she had just become 21, they felt I was stealing her baby). I have always thought her mother is obsessed with her. My wife's biological father separated from her mother, when she was a few months old. He took the baby (my wife) with him. According to the mother, he kidnapped her, but he only went to his parents and the mother never did anything to get her back. When my wife was 1.5 years old, he brought her back to his wife and shortly after commited suicide. The mother has tolg her so many times about that first night that she was back in the house after having been kidnapped. The mother thought she had missed the baby's first steps, the baby's first words, the baby's first tooth... That night she promised the baby: "never again. She would not miss anything again. Mother and daughter, they will be together forever". I believe my wife's mother has played a major part convincing her she has not done anything wrong: our marriage was horrible and she did the right thing when she put an end to it. I had been an asshole to her.
My wife has never admitted she left me because she was tricked and fell in love with that cassanova asshole. Instead she first blamed it on my disability, then on the fights we had (even when she admitted "she had played a big part in starting and exacerbating those fights"), later she has been saying I was using her as my servant, my chauffeur and I was being an asshole to her. However, I know the real reason why she left me was that she fell in love with that casanova asshole, because, some months ago, I found a love letter she wrote to him.
Few months after she had returned from Cape Town, she went to Alaska to start some exhausting, minimum-wage job she had found. In Alaska she met and immediately started a relationship with another man. They immediately wanted to marry, but they could not, since my wife has never wanted to file for divorce or file any paperwork otherwise. Those days I was contacted on Facebook by some woman: she told me my wife was living in Alaska with her partner. She explained he went to Alaska trying to recover from a strong crack-cocaine addiction, after he lost everything in Houston: his job, his family, etc. They both have three children in Houston. My wife indeed was feeling very lonely and depressed after returning from Cape Town. One day she posted on Facebook: "God, I really need somebody come with me hang out at my father's cabin in Rock Creek". My wife was a single child and has always struggled being alone. She needs a lot of love. Since she left me in Cape Town, I have always tried to work things out with her. I thought I should be intelligent and realize Iit would be stupid to give up a wonderful relationship, just because a minute of stupidity; just because she made a stupid mistake, (as a result of her immaturity), falling in love with that cassanova asshole. I have always felt she was the first victim of the horrible parenting she received from her mother. Her mother always allowed her to do whatever she wanted. When she was 11 she started smoking and doing drugs (pod, mushrooms, glue, etc.). When she was 14, she dropped out of school (not because she was a bad student; but because "at school they were all stupid and hated her and were teaching her only stupid stuff").  Her mother's basic parenting theory has always been her daughter is very intelligent, she always knows what she is doing, therefore we should all respect her decisions. As a matter of fact, she was intelligent enough to figure out all by herself (without her parents guidance), she was taking her life to a total disaster. So, at 16, she went back to school and started college. Then when she met me, she wanted very badly to succeed in our marriage and stopped smoking and doing any drups.  She worked hard  to be a good wife to me. After the initial struggles, we were doing very well. In our last months in Missoula, before taking off for our Africa adventure, I was working as a freelancer remotely, over the internet and making a fair amount of money. She did not have to worry for money and could work in whatever she wanted. Those last months she enjoyed creating, doing art and working as a seamstress. We could also choose where in the world we wanted to live. We were planning on settling down in Hawaii (since she loves the beach), after our African journey. We had it all and she gave it all up for a fancy. That is how immature she is. She fell in love with that cassanova asshole and could not think of anything else but to love him forever. When he explained he only wanted to be friends, she must have convinced herself she also only wanted to be friends. I think she must have also concluded, after she had betrayed me like that, our marriage was over: I would never be able to love her again. It seems to me it must have been like when somebody knocks off a very precious, ancient chinese Ming dinasty vase and it breaks down in thousand pieces: it would be possible to try to glue it back together, but it  would never be the same. At that point, instead of crying over the spilled milk for the rest of her life, it is better to start thinking that vase was a piece of crap and she has always hated it anyway.
I have never seen it that way and have always tried to work things out with her. Unfortunately, it has been completely impossible to explain my wife I wanted to forgive her for betraying me. Rather, she is mad at me as if I had done to her what she has actually done to me. She is convinced our marriage was horrible, I was an asshole to her and she did the right thing getting rid of me. In March 2017, she wrote an email to my mother (she had a very good relationship with her) explaining 5-15 reasons why she had left me. However, none of them were true at all. She was not making any mention she had fallen in love with Gary either. Myself, I spent 2017 in Cape Town, trying to prove her I was not pathetic and useless (as she had said) and did not need her as my chauffeur and servant to travel across Africa. Back then I still had not found the love letter she wrote to that cassanova asshole and was not completely aware of the true reasons why she had left me. However, during these last couple of years, my eye-sight has deteriorated abruptly as a result of the stress and depression she has put me in.  So, I gave up on my plans to continue traveling across Africa. I spent the second half of 2017 writing a very honest and emotional  email message to her, trying to explain it was not true our marriage had been awful, I had not been an asshole, she had just got messed up and we should try to work things out. She never replied; I do not think she read it. In October 2017 she sent me a short email complaining I had written and published on our travel blog a "sad story" about the many problems I had gone through in Cape Town (I got attacked and assaulted several times. She had taken control of the blog and unpublished the story, as if it would hurt her to read it. I became hopeful deep inside she still kept her feelings for me. I thought I might be able to wake her up with my email. Unfortunately, it did not happen.
Beginning of 2018, I returned to the US. I went to New York because I needed to do something about my eyes. I needed to have surgery because I had become basically blind. My mother told my wife about my sufferings, but she remained totally indiferent. and never wanted to express any concern. She has not wanted to talk to me. I finally had my first eye surgery last September and now had a few weeks until my next post-surgery, follow-up appointment. So I decided to come to Missoula to finally see her again for the first time since she left me in Cape Town in Feb 2016. One week ago, I went to our old house. I knocked on the door. She opened it, saw me and (without a word being spoken by her or by me) she mmediately closed it again and locked it up.. Then, her current lover (cecilio, the father of the three children in Houston), came from behind the house and told me to leave. Since I insisted I wanted to talk to my wife, he eventually pushed me and throwed me away. Then, they called the police on me. The police told me I was not allowed back there. However, all my stuff is still in that house and me and my wife need to discuss things, even if it is just our divorce (not only in the US, but also in Spain and Switzerland).
I feel like I would be able to solve all this problem, if I would be able to communicate with my wife. However that seems to be completely beyond my posibilities. I have contacted a few mediation services, but I have been told she needs to request mediation as well. Clearly, it seems impossible to convince her to do so. I am being told my only option is to file for divorce.
My Questions:
- Is there anyway I would be allowed to access my stuff in our old house (the house belongs to my mother-in-law)? If so, what would I need to do?
- My wife has been a total asshole to me since she left me. She has been psychologically abusing me: she blamed me for her attempt of suicide. She said I was useless and pathetic She insisted I was using her as my servant and chauffeur and had been an asshole to her. She put me in a state of depression that caused the abrupt loss of eye-sight I have suffered this last two years.  Would it be possible to sue her for psychologically abusing me, without having to file for divorce? I would like her to realize, if she insists in being an asshole to me, it will have harsh consequences on her. Maybe, that way, she will accept communicating with me.

- If I file for divorce, could I do it in New York, where I have been living and receiving medical treatment these last months? We married in Missoula, but since we were living in my mother-in-law's house, now that my wife left me and is living there with her new lover, I do no longer have a stable place to stay in Missoula.. I am currently staying with friends near Arlee. I will also need to have some mor eye surgeries and I will not be able to have them done in Montana.
- If  I file for divorce, under what conditions would I be able to request and receive alimony? My wife's current lover is not paying the child support he owes, because he is making money off the books (they are even living on Schedule A public housing, although they are living at my wife's mother's house and are therefore not really paying any rent!). If I am granted alimony, to what extend would it be possible for her avoid paying it? I would like her to realize, if she insists in being an asshole to me, it will have harsh consequences on her. Maybe, that way, she will accept communicating with me.
- if I file for divorce and we do not reach an agreement, would we eventually have to battle in a courtroom?
- I have thought of possible ways I could get her out of her denial. I have considered trying to talk to some of her friends (or even neighbors) to have them speak and reason with her. Could that eventually be taken as harassment and be used against me?

Africa Travel Guide - Namibia - General information

/Namibia


No visa is required for most passports.

Upon entry to Namibia, payment of a road fund is required:

Road Fund: 242 Namibian Dollars

12 December 2015

Africa Travel Guide - Namibia - Etosha National Park

Etosha National Park


80 Namibian Dollars per person, 10 Namibian Dollars per car

Safaris:
Day Tours: 500 Namibian Dollars per person for a 3 hours guided tour on park's vehicles
Night Tours: 500  Namibian Dollars per person for a 3 hours guided tour on park's vehicles

Camping: 200 Namibian Dollars per campsite + 146 Namibian Dollars per person

Etosha National Park was without a doubt one of the highlights of our journey through Africa. We really had a blast in Etosha and will forever remember the two days we spent there among the very best days of our travels. It was very exciting visiting the park, we saw many wild animals we had not seen before. The park authorities and personnel were very friendly and made us feel really comfortable. They did not put any stress to our visit setting an endless number of ridiculous rules and restrictions. This is quite remarkable considering the unique experience the park offers. Moreover, the park's fees are very affordable and reasonable, what allowed us to take our time and fully enjoy the park.















30 November 2015

Africa Travel Guide - Angola - Iona National Park

Iona Parque Nacional


Iona National Park is 220km south of Namibe. It is possible to access Iona  from Namibe, Lubango o Cahama. The easiest access is from Namibe. From Namibe, the first 63 kilometers are on an excellent paved road towards Tombua. However, before reaching Tombua, you need to take the turn off to the left, direction Iona. The dirt road that follows used to be in very bad condition, but it has been fixed in the last years and it is now possible to drive at medium speeds (80kms/h - 40kms/h). Entrance to the park is about 165km from Namibe (90kms from the turn off). Around 50kms further south from the entrance is Espineira. 30kms east of Espineira is Sede de Iona.

From Lubango or Cahama, you first get to Curoca (also named Oncocua). We did not do the road from Lubango (we had been told by Alvaro Baptista, the 'concesionario de Iona', it was in horrible condition, although we later heard from some locals in Curoca, it was in good condition). Instead we drove the road connecting Curoca with Cahama. In Cahama there are still ATMs, gas station and food shops. The first 60kms from Cahama to Curoca are on a good gravel road. The next 90kms to reach Curoca are on a very good dirt road. In Curoca it is possible to find a little car parts store as well as a little food shop.

Whether you come from Lubango or from Cahama, the stretch from Curoca to Iona is on a really bad dirt road. This road crosses many river beds. According to Alvaro Baptista, it would not be possible to cross these rivers in the rainy season (Feb-Apr). Even in the dry season, when the rivers are dry, the journey is quite a challenge, out of reach of most cars. The first 25km west of Curoca are still OK, but the next 75-100kms to Sede de Iona are really bad. On the other hand, the trip represents a fascinating and beautiful adventure through the land of the Himba people. The Himba people is the most primitive tribe we have met throughout our journey along the Atlantic African countries.

Iona National Park Entry Fee: 2000 Kuanzas for the vehicle and driver + 1500 Kuanzar per additional passenger in the car.

The park has very few visitors, so the rangers are very friendly and happy to see adventurous travellers. We only had two 2000 Kuanzas bills left. The rangers at the gate did not have any change. Needless to say, credit cards were not accepted. We explained we needed the change in order to be able to buy gas and food to get back to town. The rangers accepted to only take 2000 Kuanzas.

When we arrived at Espineira, we were told we would be charged for each day we stay in the park. We explained we did not have money left. We were therefore not able to take any guided tour. We were also told by the ranger in Espineira we were not allowed to drive our car in Iona. But that did not make any sense since we ended up driving about 100km across Iona. Probably he meant we were not suppossed to use our vehicle to go on a safari, searching for animals.

Whether you want to visit Iona park on your own or on a guided tour, it is highly advisable to contact Alvaro Baptista in Namibe, for the most accurate and reliable information.

Alvaro Baptista's office numbers are:

+244 923 452 748
+244 923 568 442

Alvaro Baptista's camp in Iona is 12 kilometers north of the park's Northern entrance, that is 155 kilometers coming from Namibe.

 

18 November 2015

Africa Travel Guide ' Visas

Visa for Mali:

Best option: 7500 ouguiyas (Mauritanian currency) at the Nouakchott Mali embassy. The process is really simple and quick: just bring pictures, the money, fill out the form, and in a couple of hours it will be ready for pick up.


Laissez passer for Mali: 10.000-15.000 CFA.



Laissez passer for Burkina Faso: 5000-10000 CFA.


Visa for Ghana:

Best option is 25000 CFA in Ouagadogou in three days, or 30000 CFA in one day in Abidjan.


Visas for 'the Entente' (Benin, Niger, Togo, Burkina Faso and Ivory Coast)

In Madrid (Spain), at the Benin Consulate in Madrid, anybody can get a visa for the five Entente countries for 140 euros.


Visa for Togo:

Best option is in Aflau, at the border between Ghana and Togo, on the Eastern side of Lome. At this border crossing, visas for European are 10000 CFA and for Americans 15000 CFA.


Visa for Benin:

Best option is 60 Cedi ($15) in one day (pick up the next day) in Accra. In Abidjan you are asked for 35.000 CFA ($50), but you get it the same day. In Ouagadogou we were asked for 40.000 CFA and it had taken three days.


Visa for Gabon:

Best option is 35.000 CFA in one day in Abidjan.



Visa for Congo Brazzaville:

Best option is 50.000 CFA in three days in Abidjan. We were asked for 115.000 DFA for a same-day visa in Bamako (Mali).



Visa for Angola:

We got our Angola visa in Kinshasa!! Even if we do not reside in Congo, and do not have Congolese passports, we were able to overcome the strict residency requirement imposed by Angolan embassies, thank to a letter of support from our embassy in Kinshasa. In our case, we went to the Spanish embassy in Kinshasa and we found that the Spanish embassador was a really nice guy, who eagerly accepted to write a letter of support, asking the Angolan embassador to issue a visa for us, explaining we had done everything possible on our hand. Indeed, we had applied for the Angolan visa at the embassy in Spain, but Angolan visas expire 60 days after issuance. Therefore, although we paid the application fee in Madrid, we asked the Angolan embassy in Madrid not to stamp the visa: we knew it would expire before we made it to Angola (since 60 days is just not enough).

Africa Travel Guide - Angola - Quissama National Park

Quissama Parque Nacional


The easiest way to enter the park is from the coast road, connecting Luanda with Sumbe. This entrance is 70kms south of Luanda, 20kms south of Mirador de Lua. 5kms before reaching the entrance, there is a bridge over the Quanza river. There is a 210 Quanzas toll for crossing this bridge.


Entrada / Entry Fee:

4000 Quanzas/Person
2000 Quanzas/Car

The park does not allow the visitors to go for a safari using their own vehicles. It is mandatory to get a park guide, using one of the park's trucks.

safaris are 4000 Quanzas per person (about 28 euros in November 2015).
Safaris can start as early as 6am or as late as 15:00. Safaris take two hours.

According to the park guides, any time of the day is good to see animals. In other words, it does not matter if you take your safari at sunrise, at noon or at sunrise. We took our safari at 13:30 and we saw most big animals: elefants, girafs, zebras, antilopes, etc.

 

05 November 2015

Africa Travel Guide - Visas - Angola

We got our Angola visas in Kinshasa!!


 Gracias Javier!

We got our Angola visas in Kinshasa!! Even if we do not reside in Congo, and do not have Congolese passports, we were able to overcome the strict residency requirement imposed by Angolan embassies, thank to a letter of support from our embassy in Kinshasa. In our case, we went to the Spanish embassy in Kinshasa and we found that the Spanish embassador was a really nice guy, who eagerly accepted to write a letter of support, asking the Angolan embassador to issue a visa for us, explaining we had done everything possible on our hand.

Indeed, we had applied for the Angolan visa at the embassy in Spain, but Angolan visas expire 60 days after issuance. Therefore, although we paid the application fee in Madrid, we asked the Angolan embassy in Madrid not to stamp the visa: we knew it would expire before we made it to Angola (since 60 days is just not enough).

The staff at the Angolan Embassy in Madrid had suggested we submitted the visa application and they will study and process it. The application had been approved, but they would not stamp the visa, because, in that case, unavoidibly, it would expire in 60 days. Instead they advised we send our passports back to Madrid, to the Angolan embassy, once we were close to enter Angola: the Angolan visas would be stamped on our passparts at that point.

We left Madrid relying on this option as our best chance to obtain the Angolan visa. However, we were still hoping we could try at some Angolan embassy along our itinerary through Africa and ask them to contact the embassy in Madrid. If the Angolan Madrid-embassy staff could confirm their collegues at the Angolan African embassy that our visa apllication was complete and had been approved, maybe we could get the Angolan visa stamped on our passports at that Angolan embassy in Africa. We tried our lack at the Angolan embassies in Abidjan and Brazzaville, but none of them were of any help. They just made it very clear they would simply not do anything like that.  They really did not give us more than a couple of minutes to explain our problem.

After we had been kicked out from the Angolan embassy in brazzaville, Kinshasa became our last option. if the Angolan embassy in Kinshasa would refuse to issue visas for us, our plan B was to send the passports to Madrid. However, some preliminary research revealed the cost of sending our passports through DHL, back and forth between Kinshasa and Madrid would be at least some hundred dollars.

We finally went to the Angolan embassy in Kinshasa very depressed and witnh barely any hope we would receive any help. We even considered not to bother and not even trying asking. After all, what was the point? we were convinced it was hopeless, and it is never enjoyable to be rejected and kicked out.

The outcome of our visit to the angolan embassy in Kinshasa, however
 clearly exceeded our zero expectations. The Angolan immigration official explained to us: "as a general rule, we do not issue visas to tourists, who do not have their residency in Congo, ...but, if we wanted to insist, we could ask from our embassy a note explaining why we needed a visas and why we were applying in Kinshasa and not in our country of residence. they would study the case, analyze it and, if it made sense, issue the visas." Those were really good news and much more than what we were expecting. It turned out there was actually a pathway, which was all what we have asked for.

Spanish embassador in Kinshasa, Javier Hergueta Garnica revealed himself to be a really friendly and cool guy. He was truly impressed by our trip and our story and was happy and eager to write some nice letter to his friend Emilio, the Angolan embassador in Kinshasa. He even asked us to bring our Land ROver Santana inside the embassy and take some pictures together. In comparisson, we also went to the American embassy in Kinshasa, but were not even able to ever talk to an American official.

Needless to say, the letter of Spanish embassador Javier Hergueta Garnica was the key for our successful Angolan-visa application. However, some nasty surprises were still awaiting for us as we followed the process to receive our visas.

We first brough the letter from the Spanish embassy to the Angolan embassy. However, the Angolan embassador's secretary told us to wait for the next day to bring the rest of the application paperwork, as they were already close for the day (the Angolan embassy in Kinshasa closes at 11:30am). So we did, But, as we handed our passports and application forms to the immigration official, we were shocked he stappled everything together and immediately handed the material back to us; our applications had been rejected... I reminded him what he had said the day before, if we get a note from our embassy, they will study the case. He remembered what he had said, but explained they had confirmed we were tourists, and they do not issue visas to tourist who do not reside in Congo. In reply, I insisted in the note from our embassy we had provided. He insisted they had confirmed we were tourists. As the whole thing did not make any sense to me, I asked him specifically about the letter from our embassy. He said (or at least so I understood) he knew about it, but he was not very convincing and it remained unclear to me we were talking about the same thing. So I asked him again if he had seen the letter from the Spanish embassy we had brought the day before to the embassador's secretary. He replied: "what letter? where is that letter?". I repeated the embassador's secretary had a letter from the Spanish embassador concerning our visa application. He finally asked us to wait while he checked on that.

After a couple of minutes we were asked to follow some man to some office. The official inside asked us to explain what exactly was what we wanted. I started explaining our problem and why we were asking for the Angolan visa in Kinshasa. However, he interrupted me showing the letter the Spanish embassador had written for us. He explained he had read the letter and knew the story, so I did not need to repeat it. He next asked me for our travel documents. I guessed he was enquiring about our hotel reservations, and I was right. I told him we would bring our hotel reservation confirmation the next day. So we did. We were then told to wait until the following week for the decision on our visa applications.

Indeed, we went back to the Angolan embassy in Kinshasa the following Wednesday. We were brought to the same office he had been the previous week. Then we were told my visa application had been approved, but they could not issue a visa to Alia, because her passport was American. Alia complained she has a Spanish resident id card. I added the Angolan embassy in Madrid did not have any objection against Alia's American passport, since she had a Spanish resident id card. The guy tried to calm me down explaining I did not have to worry, since my visa application had been successful. We both replied it simply would not work that I travel by myself, without Alia, to Angola. The tried to explain they had attempted to get a visa for Alia, but they were not able. it was still very unclear to us why exactly they had not been able. It turned out the system would simply not allow them to print the visa sticker for Alia. Apparently, the system had found Alia's passport information was already in the global database and, under such circumstances, it would not allow some other Angolan embassy create another record for Alia's passport and print a visa sticker for it. They asked if Alia had a second passport, as that would solve the problem, but Alia replied she only has one passport, as most people. They explained they did not experience the same problem with my visa application, because there was no record in the database with my passport information. In summary, the Angolan embassy in Madrid had removed my record from the database, but not Alia's. I pointed out that all seemed just a technical problem and some solution should be possible, otherwise it meant Alia would never be able to get an Angolan visa, without any fault on her part. I asked if the problem could not be solved by having Alia's record removed from the database. They replied 'yes', but they could not do it; the embassy in Spain had to do it. I told them I could try to contact the Angolan embassy in Spain and ask them to remove Alia's record, but I would need some letter from them, backing my request. They replied that was very complicated and could not do it. That was a really lame excuse none of us were going to accept. Alia pointed out it would simply not work that we send some relative to the Angolan embassy in Madrid asking them to remove Alia's record. Neither would it that we call or email them. How would the embassy in Madrid verify that relative had Alia's authorization or how would the verify the identity of the person on the phone or sending the email message? I added the question what would be their own response if somebody comes to the Angolan embassy in Kinshasa requesting somebody else's visa application should be cancelled. Obviously, they were not able to argue against our points. The two officials talked to each other for ashort while. Then, a phone call followed. Finally, they said: "OK, we are going to try, we will call you when we know something". The next day we received a call from the Angolan embassy in Kinshasa: both our visas were ready.

From our experience, it may be concluded it was unnecessary to apply for the Angolan visa in our country of residence, since we were eventually able to submit another application in kinshasa and get it approved. filing and paying for our visa application in spain, did not even save us from paying a second application fee in Kinshasa. Nevertheless, we believe it actually served a purpose to apply in our country of residence, as it constituted a center piece of our strategy: we felt we needed to make the point we had done everything we could, everything the Angolan authorities had told us to do, and we had still reached a dead end. Our strategy was to explain the angolan authorities they needed to give us a pathway.

We believe our experience could be of great help to other people in similar circumstances. people traveling long periods of time, wanting to visit Angola. there was nothing extraordinary in our visa application process. We did not have any contacts in the Angolan administration. we did not know anybody who would be able to influence and work out a possitive decision to our application. We did not bribe anybody and everything was absolutely legal in our visa application. In summary, if we were able to get our Angolan tourist visa in Kinshasa, we believe, anybody should also be able.

If the first immigration official we talked to at the Angolan embassy in Kinshasa, gave us the option to insist and go ask our embassy for a letter of support, is not because he liked us, thought we were cute, took pity on us or found otherwise something special about us. Similarly, it should not be considered abnormal that the Spanish embassador was friendly and eager to write a nice support letter.

As a final note, although applying for the Angolan visa in Kinshasa seemed to us the best option, we still would like to share other tips and suggestions we received along our quest for the Angolan tourist visa. Clearly, another option is to send the passports back to the Angolan embassy in the country of residence or citizenship. For that sake, it may be helpful to get a second passport. Our understanding is that most countries will offer the option of issueing two passports.

we have also heard of people going to Pointe Noire, at the Southern coast of congo brazzaville, and obtaining there at the Angolan consulate a transit visa to enter through Cabinda. As a matter of fact that is what we were suggested at the Angolan embassy in Brazzaville. They told us they could not do anything for us, but we could go to Pointe Noire and the consulate there would give us a visa to enter through Cabinda. What we never found out is how does it later work to cross over DRC, from Cabinda to 'mainland' Angola.

One last tip we received was from the DRC immigration official who processed our information and applications for entry, when first arrived in DRC at the border post at Ndalatando (Congo brazzaville - Congo Kinshasa border crossing between Boko and Luozi). This DRC immigration officer said the strict residency requirement is not applied at the Angola consulate in Matadi. However, we were never able to find any account that would confirm such statement.

25 October 2015

Escape from brazzaville

we made it to Kinshasa! And it was pure Congo style: freaking complicated. As planned, we left Brazzavile last Wednesday, Oct. 21. The people in Brazzaville had advised not to leave on Tuesday, the day of the protest, but wait until Wednesday, when everything would be back to normal. Actually, on Wednesday morning, the same people were advising against leaving that day. They even explained we would simply not be able to leave, since the opposition had blocked the roads to the west. Now, they were suggesting we waited until after Sunday, when the referendum would be over and everything, supposedly, would be back to normal. This time we decided not to listen to the advice: we really did not want to waste so much time waiting, and then we could not even be so sure everything will be back to normal after Sunday.

So, we decided to go ahead and try to leave on Wednesday. It turned out to be indeed very complicated. Shortly after taking off, still in the quiet center of town, we reached a military check-point. We were also nervous because our visas had already expired. Actually, we had thought we would eventually use all the political turmoil and the panic it could cause on touristz, as an excuse for our expired visas. As a matter of fact, at the first check-point, the soldiers were very concerned about our safety. They really did not want us to go through the conflictive neighborhoods on the west side of town. They said it would be much better to wait until Sunday. However, they could not stop us from leaving, if we still decided to do so. Indeed, we explained them we really needed to leave, but we appreciated very much their care and concern for us.

Just before entering the conflictive west side neighborhoods, we were stopped again by the military. This time their concerns were different: they wanted to know who we were, what were we doing there and were wondering if we were bringing any weapons or ammunition. I guess they thought we may be some stupid white idealists supporting the rebels. We clarified we were pathetic tourists panicking with the rallies and protests. They wanted to take a look at the inside of our vehicle and, considering all the crap we keep in our car, our story seemed rather reliable. The boss still asked me for my passport, which put me quite in a state of alert. I thought I would give him my Spanish passport, instead of the Swiss passport containing the expired visa. Most often, officers get tired and frustrated going through the endless number of visas and stamps in our passports. I got my passport back with no further question. Finally, surprisingly, they still had the time and courage to bother asking for something, some cigarette or coffee. We knew they would not insist much on that.

Taking off from the second military check-point, we had entered the opposition's territory: we were wondering how would the people 'welcome' us: would they be hostile or friendly? There was indeed a lot of people on the streets. It seemed they were mostly trying to get out of the city. Many people were asking for a ride. They were all actually very friendly towards us. They seemed to perceive we were in danger and very scared about the whole situation. They sympathized with us.

At some point, the crowd of people were telling us we could not continue that way: the road was blocked and we had to go around it. A crowd of people gathered around our car trying to explain the road was blocked and how to go around the neighborhood to leave town. We thought it would be a good idea to get somebody in the car to guide us and help us navigate through the maze of little neighborhood streets. We chose a fairly clean and well dressed guy, who talked some English. Kamsa explained he had been a police officer. He turned out to be very helpful. At times, the situation got very nervous. There was a semi-truck tipped over blocking the road. The crowd ahead of us were running our way and telling us to turn around. Kamsa later explained the soldiers were coming. He told us we had to turn around. He was rather nervous himself: "vite!, vite!". We were now driving this very narrow dirt street on our very fat and old Land Rover. I kept thinking: "I am sorry Kamsa, but this thing just can't go any faster through this". As we disappeared in the maze of little streets, it became a bit calmer, But then we got blocked again. Some stupid broken down taxi was parked on the side of the street and did not leave any space for our big Land Rover to pass through: Alia was afraid we were going to tip over. Kamsa insisted he drive and would get us through. Finally Alia conceded. However, it became immediately evident to Kamsa the task was far more complex than what he had assumed. He started backing out, and, quite frankly, did not show much skills doing so. Alia was very confused about what he was trying to do; so was I. We told Kamsa to step out. Alia got back into the car. There was again a lot of people around us. They were running, they were nervous: "the soldiers are coming". We did not know what way Kamsa wanted us to go. He wanted to get back on, but Alia was still backing out. He opened the door, but the car was still moving, so he started running with it. The situation was very confusing. We tried to tell him to wait for the car to stop, but I think he was fearing we did not want him back in the car. As the car was still moving, he managed to jump in. He looked at us wondering if we were going to push him out. Instead, I grabbed him and pulled him inside: I wanted him to know everything was OK and we still trusted him and welcomed his help. We made it back to a major road. There was again a lot of people. Kamsa kept explaining we were Americans, we were tourists. He told us, if anybody asks, we should say we are Americans. Alia replied she could do that: she is indeed American! Apparently, the people was keen to Americans, so they would be friendly and happy to help. From Kamsa's words, I am guessing people had not been that friendly if we had been French, perhaps thinking the French support the current president.

Kamsa finally told us he was getting off. He said now we were safe; we could go. After that, the road was indeed empty, all the way to Kinkala. We only saw a few people walking their way out of town and a little truck trying to load as many people as possible out of Brazzaville.

On our way to DRC, it was funny to explain everybody we have made it out of Brazzaville. Everybody kept asking how was the situation in Brazzaville. We enjoyed talking about the topic, while nobody paid any attention to our expired visa.

On Wednesday, we were only able to make it to the border. They explained us it was better to camp at the exit gate of Congo Brazzaville, because we will find the gate closed on the DRC side.

The next morning we drove into DRC. As the videos show, the road was atrocious. Alia had no doubt this was the worst road we drove throughout our journey across the Eastern half of Africa. It actually makes sense: the 10km. between both Congo's border posts, have been abandoned over the last hundred years. I guess the road is no country's responsibility, so nobody has taken care of it since the colonial years, when French and Belgians built it. In fact, the old sign, marking the border between French Congo (today's Republic of Congo) and Belgian Congo (today's DRC), is still standing for the tourists' enjoyment.

 

 
As a matter of fact, when we were almost through the worst part, just a few kilometers from Luozi, our car said enough of that bullshit: a rear flange broke. Fortunately, it broke at the hub, so it was easy and quick to get it out. We had planned ahead and have bought a spare flange in Accra, so Alia was able to get us back on the road very quickly.

https://youtu.be/cTrtfDMWZO4

In Luozi we were finally able to cross the Congo river for $15; quite a deal compared to the milion CFA they had quoted us in Brazzaville. The down side was it took us three days and 550kms to go around; from Brazzaville to Luozi, to cross there the Congo river, and then back to Kinshasa.

But, if we had not yet been convinced how complicated Congo is, we were still able to confirm it upon arriving to Kinshasa. We called our friend Ali. He told us he was hanging out at a bar and asked us to meet him there. We were very tired and really did not feel like hanging out, so Alia went inside to talk to Ali and explain, while I stayed in the car waiting for her. Unfortunately, I got soon surrounded by some guys that wanted to 'help' with parking, and, hopefully, get some money for it. Some guy got particularly nosy and went on asking one hundred questions. I was starting to get annoyed, not understanding why I had to put up with such interrogation.

Then the guy stretched out his arm inside the car and as he started touching something with his hand, he asked me what it was. I really did not like that and quickly put his hand out of the car. I thought I better roll up the window, so he would not been able to do it again. However, my door is really in bad condition and it is very hard to roll up the window quickly and all the way up. He did not like me reacting that way and rolling up the window: "th est mauvais". I felt like replying, I was not bad, but he was an asshole. He took advantage of me reaching down to roll up the window, and reached out again, inside the car, right behind my seat. He had already grabbed on one of our small backpacks and pulling it outside the window, when I noticed and was able to stop him. I grabbed the backpack and throwed it inside, into the back of the car. He understood he had no chance pulling anything out that window, with me sitting there. So he moved quickly to the other side. I feared he would try to steal something out from the driver's door. It was really unfortunate for me that Alia had left the door unlocked, with the window rolled down all the way. I used those two seconds to try to push everything I found behind the seats, to the back of the car and out of the guy's reach.

My fears were immediately confirmed, as I saw the guy standing next to Alia's door, planning his strike. I leaned over the driver's seat as I kept telling the guy to quit. However, I still had to watch my window, because some other guys were still standing outside my window. The guy did not seem to move for a second, so I went back to work on rolling up my window. The motherf***** took advantage of that to open Alia's door and reach inside. I was however able to react quickly enough, before he could grab on anything. Fortunately for me, there was not much for him on that side: just the tent, some big water bottles and the big backpack. Clearly the big backpack is too much of a struggle to get out. Fortunately, he missed Alia's vest, that had been really bad to get stolen: money, id's and quite some other critical stuff.

I think he indeed concluded there was not much for him on Alia's side, so he went back to my side! I really did not expect his next course of action: he decided to take things one step forward and went ahead opening my door to confront me. The motherf***** was determined to get something out to the point that he was even willing to get into a physical fight with me to accomplish his goal. I quickly thought, at that point, the best choice for me was to start screaming as loud as I could, trying to get the attention and help of the people in the area. That worked! The guy did not expect that: he stopped immediately, turned around and ran away. shortly after, Alia returned and we made inventory. It seems that we did not lose anything.

Well, now that we are in Kinshasa, it is time to start worrying about Angola... Congo may be complicated and stupid, but, so far, we can't really say they are assholes. I am not sure we will soon be able to say the same about Angola. The thing with the Angola visa may easily become a nightmare worse than our struggles in Congo. Until now, I had stayed confident that worse comes to worst, we can always resort on plan B and send the passports to Spain. Now, it turns out it may be some hundred dollars to send the passports back and forth with DHL. We will see how it goes. We will try different options: contacting Spanish, American and Swiss embassies here in Kinshasa to beg the Angolese for some tourist or transit visa for us. We have also been told of the possibility of applying at Matida, at the DRC-Angola border. Otherwise, sending the passports to Spain...