Buying a Motorcycle in Congo

When I was in America I was so blessed to receive the money to buy a motorcycle. Since August when I got back I’ve been doing my homework trying to find the best one. First I had to go to all of the government offices asking what I would need and how much everything would cost. Everything is a scam and corrupt in this country. The insurance government run program demands that you pay them but in the case of an accident wouldn’t give you a penny. In each office they wanted money before they would even tell me the price. Thankfully I pulled the missionary card and convinced them to tell me without a bribe. Then inevitable someone in the government office will ask me to marry them and that’s my queue to leave. One office I had the hardest time finding. It turns out that’s because it no longer exists. They changed buildings and then separated the division and then decided it was no longer necessary for motorcycles to have license plates.

The funny part about it all is most people in Congo never bother to get their government documents. The country is corrupt so there is a large police force whose sole occupation is blowing a whistle and then asking for money. So whether you have your documents of not they’ll demand you pay them money. I’m trying to do the right thing and follow what I can figure out about the system that supposedly exists but each step of the way I realize why so few others do.

Next I had to find places selling motorcycles. In Likasi there are maybe 100 tiny shops that may have one or 2 motorcycles for sale. It took days to go into each shop and discover who had what. Then I had to investigate the Chinese name brands to discover which ones were at least better than others. A lot of people have motorcycles around here so I would just ask them questions about theirs. They always thought it was hilarious and informed me that women can’t ride motorcycles.

Then it was time to haggle down the price. Some people see my white skin and jack up the price. They don’t think I need a discount because I am obviously a millionaire (and that’s why I live without running water because I have so much money). So some people get offended that you even ask them to change the price. Finally you find a reasonable person and I thought I had found my motorcycle. I went in to test it to be sure it worked then buy it. I had informed the shop keeper of my intentions a week before so everything would be ready. When I put some gas in to test it the gas spilt all over the floor. Definitely not going to work.

So I repeated the process time and time again one time the brakes weren’t connected properly and another time the battery was dead. My friends told me to buy in Lubumbashi. It’s hard to find the time to go there and then it is hassle because no one knows me there. Then if there is a problem with it I have to take it back. But I thought I was out of options so I planned to do it in January.

Then while walking through town one day I randomly saw a new one that must have just come to the tiny shop named Mattieu 6:33. The first day they wouldn’t negotiate the price. When I went back I haggled it down and tested it. To my amazement it actually worked. Then they even agreed to take it to a mechanic and pay the costs so I could be sure there were no problems. I went to each of the government offices where they asked for money and someone wanted to marry me, but left without adhering to either of their requests. They also all looked at me in total shock when I told them it was my motorcycle that I would be driving.

I keep trying to explain to these people that women are capable. This normally means don’t call women stupid and refers to the need to send your daughters to school as well as your sons but of course works for driving motorcycles too. The motorcycle may be bigger than I am but I am strong. I proved to a couple of my Congolese friends that I can lift the motorcycle if it happened to fall, I can push and maneuver it, and most importantly that I can (although barely) touch the ground while straddling it. They were amazed. And then I rode it which caused them to drop their jaws. Apparently they thought there is something so difficult about kicking gears up and down that women can’t do it. If only they could have seen me doing that on ATV’s when I was 6.

It was an experience buying a motorcycle in Congo. It’s such a blessing to have a means of transportation. There are so many ways I was limited before. Like I said on facebook I have a feeling my shoes are going to start lasting a lot longer.