Pointe-Noire: The Point Where We Back Down
REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO
“Google Maps says we’ve arrived” - famous last words of any (overseas) traveler … save the one who might find themselves hunting for an attraction that seems to attract no one. While it’s known to be the economic capital of Republic of the Congo, aside from Pointe-Noire’s port, wild beaches and stretch of seascapes, there’s little to lure the lonely tourist. After arriving at the accommodations I’d booked online, seeing that the hotel was actually under full renovations and completely non functional, I needed to pivot, so I splurged on a swanky suite instead. The art deco was so stunning, I almost didn’t want to explore beyond the Villa.
It had taken fixers, a thick wad of cash for money exchange and a roll call for boarding the boat to get me from DRC to the Republic of Congo, so the least I could do was continue the adventure. Later, I’d come to question this decision. But for now, Richard’s kissing sound made me turn back to him from yards away and hop in his taxi. Though his price wasn’t the best, his way to call back clients was creative. Imagine if that was the standard: casting compassion or cheeky expression to beckon tourism, trade and the asks of our daily tasks. In reality though, his skepticism of the destination was overt and his irritation irritated me a tad too, like the impact of taxes on an already steep bill. Naturally, the locals nearby would know where Glacier Sel was, even if the local taxi man didn’t, right? Armed with the aerial views of where I (thought) I was going, I was determined to push past the peskiness.
Whether we’re on trips, with trusted friends or timeless love, how far are we willing to stick it out? Of course, the details differ for us all, but I wondered what factors, feelings and failures signal the nail in the coffin moment when we begin to back down.
I asked Richard to pull over where I saw some local ladies sitting at a miniscule fruit stand. On my mobile, the upside down red tear drop that signals a destination was mere metres away, surely, someone should be able to guide us. No sooner had we said that out loud did that thought swiftly swerve from sure to sheepish.
“If you don’t know where you’re going, then why go?” the women blurted out, laughing and gesticulating as if it was an unquestionable universal truth. Richard too seemed suddenly uneasy, shifting and crinkling his brow, like a chaperone surprised to see the antics of rambunctious youth. They bubbled over each others’ sentiments in Bembe, the local language, staring at me as if I’d told them I was looking for the aliens who live next door. To be honest, I’m not even sure how I found this ‘attraction’, and in that moment, I wondered why I was traveling the road less known. Literally, I could be sitting at the beach, or on my balcony overlooking the beach - as such, either option (always) appeals to DocAtTheBeach ;)
I can’t say for certain why I was unrelenting. It wasn’t as if I precisely knew or wanted the destination. So, what are the motivational and maintenance factors that keeps us on our trajectory within the various dimensions of our lives? Perhaps in this case for Richard, it was duty, respect or the need to ensure payment. Regardless, even though he was obviously unimpressed by me or my mission, he respectfully followed as I took the lead of the land that leaned into a downward slope.
The blind led the blind, it wasn’t totally clear if the end-point was ahead or we’d left it behind. We walked aimlessly in the vast valley where a wandering mind could conjure up many suboptimal endings. Admittedly, those few silent minutes weighed heavy as if my shoulders were pinned to the mat … and the ref was counting 1, 2, 3. Should I have backed down sooner?
Serendipitously, seemingly from nowhere, a local man arrived.
It turned out, we were actually already within the Makola Salt Glacier - though it was less popular for humans and used more as a grazing site for animals.
The two strangers now seemed cemented by their concern for my curiosity and as such, covertly redirected my desires to climb the salt cliffs and check out the variegated patterns that the salt field dynamically display.
Sometimes, it’s ok to get into the ring, do your thang and then back down. For so many reasons and for none at all, it really is ok.
So, I let myself be guided gently back to the car. There, random dude climbed into the front seat and hitched a ride. Aligned with this new sentiment, I acquiesced. Back at the villa, I became pleased with the bare minimum energy that was required to bask in the beauty around me.
After all, getting to these salt fields in Pointe-Noire was no easy feat. So now, it was time to think that through, as I put up my feet …
May we know exactly when to brave and when to back down,