Final trip to Kinshasa: Sept. 8-13, 2025
- Jane Bertrand
- Jan 20, 2024
- 10 min read
There was no pressing work-related reason for my returning to Kinshasa in September 2025. I might not have, were it not for the international airline credit about to expire, which only I could use. Yet in retrospect, it was a wonderfully therapeutic way to say goodbye to the country that had meant so much to me professionally and personally for almost 50 years.
En route to Kinshasa, I mentally reviewed what I would not miss: the 24-hour trip from New Orleans to Kinshasa, including a night with 2-3 hours of sleep on the transatlantic flight, followed by another eight hours in the air between Paris and Kinshasa. I would not miss the hour spent waiting in the hot, chaotic baggage claim area where local porters jostled for position to find nondescript black suitcases in a sea of taped boxes and trunks. Nor would I miss the often-harrowing shuttle bus ride between the airport and the hotel, 40 minutes on a good night or 2-5 hours during periods of construction.
Yet once the car rolled into the parking lot of the Hotel Voyageur, our preferred lodging for the last 15 years, the nostalgia for Kinshasa pulsed through my veins. This 3-acre oasis, located just yards from the frenzied Boulevard du 30 Juin, was originally built in 1950 as the country club for Huileries du Congo Belge (the predecessor to Unilever) in the days of the Belgian Congo. Its lush grounds, abundant with palm trees and fragrant tropical plants, echo its colonial past. In later years, after a change in ownership, a 33-meter swimming pool was added and continues to be well maintained, an added incentive for working all those years in Kinshasa.
And who could be immune to the heartfelt welcome by the hotel staff? From Mr. Freddy at the reception desk to the security guard carrying my bag to the room, I felt like the long-lost relative who had finally come home. “Madame, why were you away for so long?” Indeed, it had been over a year since my last trip in June 2024, but who expected the hotel staff to be keeping such close tabs? The next morning, the greetings from the cleaning staff and servers in the breakfast room were equally warm and expressive. One of the gardeners called to me from the second-floor balcony. « Madame, vous êtes de retour! »
Yet the current grim reality of international development hit as I walked into the breakfast room. The buffet included all the usual food stuffs that had been served in the past, but it was presented at half the usual scale. When I arrived, I was the only person in the restaurant. I was witnessing the profound effect of the withdrawal of USAID. The hotel had benefited greatly from USAID contractors who supported the hotel with a constant flow of paying guests and room rentals for workshops. In recent years, the clientele was increasingly African, as international NGOs hired Congolese or third-country nationals instead of ex-pats for mid management roles. Yet few were in evidence.
The Greek manager of the hotel, with few other demands on his time, came over to welcome me. By the third sentence, he was deploring the demise of USAID and its effects on the local economy. “So many people have lost their jobs, and it’s not just at the top level. The drivers, the cleaners… Even the car dealerships in town are suffering, without USAID importing vehicles.” The hotel was completing construction on a new wing. “We have almost finished furnishing the rooms...“ His voice trailed off. Unspoken was the question of who would be lining up to stay in those rooms.
I had first come to Kinshasa in 1979 when my husband Bill Bertrand encouraged me to join him as a consultant on one of Tulane’s first incursions into public health in Zaire, as the country was named at the time. (He never fails to remind me of his persuasive messaging on that first trip: “You have to go through Paris to get there.“) Soon thereafter, we both were heavily involved in our respective USAID-funded projects, traveling to Zaire several times a year. From 1986 to 1989, we lived in Kinshasa with our two small children. Bill was leading up a USAID contract to co-establish the Kinshasa School of Public Health, and I headed the Research & Evaluation Unit of the fledgling family planning services project (PSND).
Little did I know when we left Kinshasa in July 1989 that I would not return for 20 years. The infamous pillages of 1991 and 1993 wreaked havoc on the major cities across the country and led to a mass exodus of expats for almost a decade. Donors abruptly halted their funding, and development work came to a standstill. I only returned in 2009, in response to Amy Tsui’s request for me to travel to Kinshasa to promote participation in the first-ever International Conference on Family Planning, to be held that year in Uganda. That fortuitous trip resulted in a phone call from the Gates Foundation, inquiring whether Tulane would be interested in re-establishing its family planning work in the DRC. The portfolio of projects from multiple donors that followed has allowed Tulane to play a major role in advancing family planning in the DRC to this day. Even with the recent drastic cuts in development funding, Tulane has kept its Kinshasa office open with support from non-USAID donors.
The overriding consideration for all activities throughout the week was les embouteillages (traffic jams), which have grown to epic proportions in Kinshasa. Locals attributed this to continued population growth in Kinshasa (now a city of over 17 million), the increased ability of more people to afford cars (especially inexpensive ones that frequently break down), and the ongoing construction that clogs the main routes throughout the city.
There were many highlights during this week. Mr. Mbadu Muanda accepted my invitation for lunch at the Voyageur, excusing himself in advance that he’d be late because of the traffic. I had known Mbadu since the late 1980s, when he was a research assistant and data collection supervisor on the surveys Tulane conducted on family planning and HIV/AIDS. He had worked his way through the ranks and in 2003 was named Director of the National Program for Adolescent Health (PSNA), a post he has held since then. He was invaluable in providing information and confirming facts for my book Fifty Years of Family Planning in the DRC: The Dogged Pursuit of Progress (2024), and he uses the book in the masters level class he teaches on reproductive health at the local university. We shared laments over the dismantling of USAID. He had grown the Adolescent Health Program to cover 22 of the 26 provinces of the DRC, and successive surveys showed encouraging results: a major drop in adolescent birth rates. Overnight, he lost support for nine of the 22 provinces.
It was nothing short of a miracle that the next day, the 1 pm meeting to discuss plans for the final Gates-funded project on which I’m involved started on time at Tulane’s office. The only reason Tulane’s country director Arsene Binanga and my Tulane colleague Julie Hernandez were able to attend was that their 3 pm meeting would be on Zoom, obviating the need to physically get themselves elsewhere.
Later that day I personally experienced Kinshasa during rush hour traffic. The trip from Tulane’s office to the hotel is less than two miles, and without traffic, one can get there in 10 minutes. The Boulevard du 30 Juin is the 10-lane avenue that leads into downtown Kinshasa; the traffic lights installed by the Chinese have long-since ceased to work, creating a situation of every driver for himself. As we turned onto 30 Juin at 5 pm, the traffic was already bumper to bumper. Five lines of cars heading downtown moved in parallel at a snail’s pace. Advancing as much as one yard in fits and starts was considered good progress. Ninety minutes into the ride we reached the halfway point and discovered the problem. On this 10-lane highway, cars coming toward us had taken the five lanes on their side and crossed over the divider to claim an additional two on ours. This steady stream of cars coming toward us in the opposite direction constricted the space available for “our” five lanes going downtown. As we approached the narrow single lane that took us up an overpass (designed to alleviate congestion), motorcycles streamed toward us, also going against traffic. In all, it had taken 90 minutes to travel one mile. Suddenly, the gridlock broke, and we moved unencumbered toward our restaurant. Finding it closed, we considered alternatives – but only ones well outside the major traffic impasse along 30 Juin.
Mid-week Bill joined me in Kinshasa, bringing the Bertrand Kinshasa experience that started in 1979 full circle. Bill had his own agenda, which included visiting the Kinshasa School of Public Health. At 8:30 am, he left with a driver for the university campus, built over 60 years ago far from the center of town, to distance it from student protests. By 11 am, they had barely halfway there. Bill did the math and realized that completing the trip would mean (optimistically) over six hours in traffic for a two-hour meeting with university colleagues. In this day of cell phones, he was able to cancel his meeting and instead invite them for dinner at our hotel that evening, after the traffic had subsided. The next day he planned to visit the bonobo sanctuary on the outskirts of town. Bonobos, the closest species to humans, are native to the DRC (and no other country). He left by 7:30 am. Over three hours later, he sent me a WhatsApp message. He was on his way back to our hotel, defeated again by the traffic.
Bill was not the only one complaining about les embouteilleages. Back in the office, our data specialist recounted that he had to leave his house at 4:30 am to get to the office by 5. If he left at 5:00 am, he’d be at the office by 10. Another Congolese colleague lamented that earlier this week, his commute aller-retour had taken eight hours.
My visit coincided with the presentation of research results by Mbadu Muanda and Julie Hernandez (who has taken over the lead role for Tulane/New Orleans on family planning work in the DRC). The qualitative study was entitled “Gender-based Violence in Secondary Schools in Kinshasa.” Julie had been wary of the possible reaction of audience members to the findings: teachers demanding sex with their female students in exchange for a passing grade; insinuations that the girls “had it coming” based on their manner of dressing; and and the widely shared conclusion that girls had to make themselves as invisible as possible to avoid the sexual violence pervasive at schools. The audience including staff from the Ministry of Education took these findings in stride. Apparently, the results simply confirmed a widely known reality of life in secondary schools, where resources are scarce and unfair power dynamics prevail.
I was particularly gratified that the French translation of my book on family planning in the DRC arrived by my final day in Kinshasa. Although the original version in English would be accessible to academics, only the French translation would reach the family planning community in the DRC. The publisher INED/France had allowed for a special run of 500 copies to be printed locally at MédiasPaul for free distribution within the family planning community in Kinshasa, subsidized by the Gates Foundation. The two weeks stipulated in our contract for the print job had stretched into two months (équipement en panne, the machinery had broken down). Even on the day of delivery, the company entreated our staff to “patientez-vous un moment.” (Please wait for a bit). Several hours later, the first 150 copies were delivered to our staff, who then began the three-hour trip back to the office.
Spending my last afternoon in the office signing the 150 available copies of the book brought a fitting closure to 25 years of working in family planning in Zaire (1980-89), then the DRC (2010-25). That evening, I had the opportunity to express my thanks to our Kinshasa-based staff with a late afternoon party at Quick Poulet. Contrary to the image that the name inspires of KFC fast food, this delightful outdoor restaurant provided the perfect setting for my farewell to the staff and distribution of my book (in which all their names appear in the acknowledgement). An excellent Congolese meal was served buffet-style, followed by music from a local band. I couldn’t help but note as the dancing started that we had the same number of men and women in attendance. In addition to Tulane’s good work in family planning, we had achieved the elusive goal of gender balance on our staff!
On the morning of my departure, I had planned to take one final walk along Embassy Row, "overlooking” the Congo River. The Avenue des Nations Unies flanking the river had long been a favorite of young Congolese athletes and expats in search of a safe location to exercise. Others came to enjoy the view of the majestic river with Brazzaville in the background. (When we lived in Kinshasa in the 1980s, I could wake up early, drive to this location five miles from our house, enjoy a morning jog, return home for a quick shower and breakfast, and still arrive at my office by 9 am. Today, that round-trip alone would take a minimum of four hours.) I was appalled when in late 2022, the government erected a tall blue metal wall the full length of this stretch to cordon it off for new construction, effectively blocking the public’s view of the Congo River. Still, I needed one last trip back to the stretch “overlooking” the river, if nothing else than to curse the Blue Wall. Alas, it was not meant to be. I overslept.
The experience of this final week was bittersweet. I was thankful for the closure it brought to my 25 years of involvement in family planning in the country. I was extremely proud of the talented staff that we had assembled over the past decade, both in New Orleans and in Kinshasa. And I was greatly relieved that Tulane had been able to keep its operations open as many development agencies downsized or closed their doors. Despite the efforts of Tulane and many other organizations, the DRC continues to lag far behind most low- and middle-income countries in terms of modern contraceptive use. Whereas a sizable segment of the population is disinterested in contraception, a growing portion of women and young girls have increasingly come to rely on it – to preserve their health, stay in school, or lift their families out of poverty. But the time had come to turn over the reins, and I left with the great satisfaction that Tulane remains well-positioned to advance this work in the coming years.
I won’t miss the traffic jams.
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Jane, this definitely brought tears to my eyes. I am grateful to have worked on those projects with such amazing people. I am also happy that my nearly 7-week stranded period there allowed me to visit many of the places you mentioned. I hope to see you soon.