Living in Democratic Republic of Congo is undoubtedly a brave venture. Blending into the culture of the country was hard. The outbreak of Ebola pandemic in West Africa made the climate tenser. Walking down the lane of memory, I recall those days when I would wait for hours to have a fortunate glimpse of the blue cloudless sky and those nights, when I would peek through the window, with a thin hope, to glance at the sky peppered by myriad shimmering stars. But Democratic Republic of Congo has its own reality. I hunted for reasons to persuade myself that time would fly quickly.
However, the 24th of August 2014 was not just any other day. I spent the second half of the day touring around the deepest river of the world – Congo River. This walking tour taught me what books could not. I came across playful children, young couples, hawkers and even singers. I walked to people, felt their smile and connected with them. I had no clue what they were until they related their stories to me. I played with the children, danced with the locals, laughed with families, listened to the singers and eventually found my purpose. I then did justice, as far as possible, to the days lived in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo.