The rebels had just taken over the capital and were dealing out a little street justice (as my driver called it). I had arrived there early and happened to catch an execution of some of Mobutu's DSP (aka the bad guys). Within an hour of the murders about a dozen members of the press corp arrived. I could name names but what's the point. Reuters, Sigma, Time, CNN, ITN, even Vanity Fair was looking for some bang bang. Hearing about the great photo-op they missed, the journalists decided to stay until there was another execution. They waited from about 9:30 a.m. until 2 in the afternoon. My ride wanted to wait around for an execution so I sat on a four foot high pile of discarded uniforms in the hot sun. Bored, I decided to make some friends. I bumped into the "generals" who were running the detention camp. They proceeded to get me rip roaring drunk on local Primus Malt liquor and occupy the time until my ride figured it was time to go. Travel tips? Well, the French are all pretending to be Canadian, it's harder to buy your way out of trouble with Kabila's folks, and it's still the 16-years-olds with AK-47's running the show.
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