Can I Just Please Leave?

Our night was short since we needed to leave for the airport at 3:30am.

The streets were empty except for here and there when you would see one walking. I have no idea why they would be out and about at 3:30 in the morning. Our driver tells us that drinking is not a problem here like in the U.S. and smoking is frowned upon (which I know would not induce one to get up at 4 in the morning, but I thought it interesting none-the-less!)

Driving along, viewing the empty streets that are usually filled with people we are completely unaware of the complications we will run into at the airport.

We pull in and are stopped by about 5 security guards. Apparently they are wanting money. We mention the name of someone who works at the airport which reduces the price by 90%.

After many words and an exchange of money, we pass through and park.

As soon as we get out there are others that converge upon us, more French spoken and then we all take off walking, along with some of those who have just shown up.

We pass people standing out front doing what I don’t know but who appear to be loitering. We wait while one of our hosts goes inside to pay the police money so we can get a paper that says we can leave the country but then soon our other host goes as well. Oh no! Hurry back! We stand outside feeling uneasy accompanied by the “loiterers” and those who walked with us from our car.

More French flying around. We are so thankful to have native Congolese with us that can navigate our way through check-in for us . There seems to be so much confusion  going on that we feel quite insecure.

Finally we are allowed to go inside the airport. Our two Congolese friends cannot go all the way in, so they head for the second floor viewing station.

A man that has been carrying our luggage (one of those that just showed up as soon as we arrived out of nowhere) tells us in French where to go for boarding passes.

Before we get to the counter our bags are unzipped and rifled through. Ironically, I have a book on top with the title “Manners That Matter Most to Moms”.

Bags are zipped up and after a time we receive our boarding passes. Our hosts are still watching from above like guardian angels which feels very good. When you don’t understand the language and things don’t seem to be straightforward, it is comforting to know you have an advocate nearby.

We pass through a set of doors and are met with still another counter and a lady behind glass. Our passports and boarding passes are given to her. And then we wait. Others go before us but still we are made to wait. Our guardian angel hosts are now standing on the other side of a thick glass. We keep looking at them for reassurance and with a fair bit of perplexed looks on their part and ours along with some sign language asking us “What is going on?” We shrug our shoulders because we don’t have a clue.

The lady at the counter starts asking us questions. Not understanding a nice Indian man helps to interpret. We are given the go ahead. Oh the relief! We wave goodbye to our hosts through the glass as they give us a thumbs up.

Then came security. Bags are x-rayed as well as opened and gone through.

We get through that and head for the only place available to go- where a long line of people are.

But are we at the right place? The screen shows 3 flights and none are ours. I don’t want to go to Turkey, thank you very much!

We ask a young lady if she speaks English. “Little bit,” she says. We confirm with her that we are in the right place. Thank goodness for those who have learned a second language or are trying!

At the front of the line are a man and woman. The passengers separate into two lines. Men in the mans line and ladies in the other.

This time handbags are searched and we are given a good frisking. The men are required to open their carry-on’s and are then frisked. I wonder if they are looking for hidden diamonds?

We all board a bus that takes us to the plane. There are a few hundred of us standing on the tarmac waiting to board.

We then are asked for our papers showing we paid the $60 each to get out of the country.

Then the next person requires our boarding pass.

A lady standing off to the side with 3 small children is starting to be questioned by authorities. A heated exchange of words begins. More authorities are called and then three of the workers run for the airport.

I don’t know what happened to her in the end but the last I saw it looked like paperwork was being gone over.

And then we are on board. When the plane does take off we are one hour behind schedule.

I couldn’t believe it. It was harder to leave the country than to get in! It was all very unnerving.

But we are on board and flying to Casablanca, Morocco and then on to Amsterdam, Holland.

Royal Air Moroc – the airlines we flew from DR Congo to Casablanca, Morocco

and then on to Amsterdam, Netherlands.

P.S. The above was written soon after leaving DR Congo. Since we’ve been home, I asked another of our American friends that flew out a day later than us how leaving the country went for them. He replied, “No problem.” Was it because we were there before daylight? I don’t know but I didn’t like it and my hubby who is not bothered by things like I am didn’t either!

The airport at Casablanca, Morocco was different but I didn’t get one picture. After our experience in the DR Congo with locals not wanting their picture taken, I was feeling a little subdued and not wanting to experience that again. But I found their shops quite interesting.

There were whole shops devoted to caftans for the ladies, robes for men (not sure if they’re called caftans or not), babouche slippers, incense and such.

It was kind of humorous that before our flight took off two stewards walked through the entire plane – one steward for each aisle – spraying a bottle of air freshener – from the front of the plane to the back and then back to the front spraying the entire time.  They must have had too many complaints of people not smelling so rosy. 🙂

EDITED TO ADD: A reader informed me, that more than likely, this was a scented insect killer to kill any mosquitoes that might be on the plane. They’ll do this to prevent mosquitoes getting transported to other countries that do not have malaria. Interesting tidbit.

I sat next to the nicest Moroccan girl who was in her 20’s. She shared her mints with me (like who ever does that) and at the end of the flight she gave me her email address and told me that if we were ever in Morocco again that we were welcome to stay with her.  Such a sweet girl.

And after a total of 8 hours, counting our layover in Casablanca, we arrived in Amsterdam, ready for the second part of our trip.