The Fiery Heart of Darkness: Vacation Part I

East Congo is not the first place that most people think of going for vacation, considering that the DR Congo is one of the most lawless countries on the planet and its eastern regions of North and South Kivu are the places where the indescribable depths of hellish human capacity find their nadir. Conversely, not too far beyond the main eastern border cities of Goma and Bukavu, one also encounters the beauty of raw wilderness, and not too much further still, wilderness untouched, ever, by anyone. East Congo was, however, the destination of choice for our motley crew of temporary Burundians and Rwandans. Partly because of our proximity to that great unknown, and because of the fires of adventurousness that had been lighted after hearing recent accounts from other acquaintances who had approached the fiery heart of darkness and lived to tell the tale, I found myself in Kigali with Seth and Trina packing our bags to set out. Destination: Goma; Objective: Nyiragongo volcano. With more than a little help from our marvellous friends at World Relief Rwanda and Congo, and the assistance and company of a few other illustrious individuals, we arrived and were escorted across the Rwandan border of Gisenyi into wild and hopefully wonderful Congo. What awaited, no one was quite sure.

Goma is still a bit of a wasteland following Nyiragongo’s eruption in January 2002, in which lava erupted not only from various locations on the volcano’s flanks, but also from a vent only a few kilometres from the city proper. Lava cut the city in two, flowing right across the airport’s runway, igniting aviation fuel stores and causing widespread devastation. Even still, the only real pavement that exists on the roads is actually lava, and grey soot covers everything else. The UN force actively holds the main roads in and out of the town, protecting from the various rebel groups that are all based just beyond, who, along with the military, unleash their terror on the pitiful, defenceless peasants as coercion for support. The part I wish not to think about is that they all want support from the same people, and have all adopted systematic, violent rape as a main tactic. Thankfully we weren’t going far from the city, and were in good hands with World Relief.

“Tourism” on the volcano had actually been closed for some time due to fighting, and has only recently been reopened. From where we stood, looking up at the cloud- and smoke-enshrouded summit, it was quite obviously going to require a good deal of effort to make it to the top. And that it did. The first half of the 2000m+ ascent was on loose, rocky lava flows that offered no respite from the hot equatorial sun. Reprieve in the cool of the jungle that surrounds the base of the cone came at the expense of steepness, and our ensuing fatigue was only compounded by the fact that we were missing the oxygen we had been progressively leaving behind at lower elevations.

And then, voilà! After a solid five-hour ascent, we were at the crater rim, and, looking down, there they were: the fiery bowels of the earth, somewhere where they normally are not: spewing forth into our surface realm. And they seemed angry to be there, what with all their rumbling and sulphurous smoke. It was probably the cold; at 3469 m, it really was frigid, and even the Canadian was complaining. In fact, some of us quadrupled up into a three-person tent for the sheer purpose of body heat. Yes, we camped on the rim. Right on the rim. It was actually the only spot possible. Somnambulists and those with small bladders were given a two-metre margin of error in the event that they unconsciously or semi-consciously exited the tent… But gosh, was it absolutely incredible! Seeing the molten lake of lava at the crater’s bottom, constantly boiling and exploding and lighting up the thick, rising column of sulphur; it really was everything you would imagine it to be, but more awesome still. 

And then in the morning, after coaxing our bodies out of our sleeping bags, we took down camp completely engulfed in sulphur, and we went back down.

My friends left me in Goma. But that’s for Part II.