BrianJBecker.com

One great thing about Congo is that you can be loud here if you want to. It’s like America that way, maybe even more so in some circumstances. Those who have cars often drive loudly too, sometimes to the point of being seriously offensive. They cut everyone off: other cars, motorcycles, bikes, pushcarts and pedestrians. The roads are crowded with everything but cars and when a crazed driver comes barreling through, everyone else has no choice but to dive out of the way. I’m not sure but I think it’s also socially accepted, or at least people are used to it.

I like to do the unexpected, the opposite. I like to yield to others on the road whenever I can, almost excessively so. Before you condemn me for tooting my own horn here, my reasons are not purely altruistic. Of course my motivation is partly that I want to avoid crashing into anything or anyone. That would not be a day to write home about. But mostly I enjoy the looks on people’s faces when someone is courteous behind the wheel. Often I have to make open-hand gestures to say, “oh no, after you” with a nod and a big smile and only then will pedestrians cross in front of me while I am waiting to make a left hand turn or pull through an intersection. They usually have an astonished and curious look on their faces. I see it about three times as they triple-take in my direction.

I’m not often in a hurry. The city is small. The urban roads are treacherous and safety is so important here. Almost no intersections are controlled. It’s a game of chicken and I’m one patient chicken.

I secretly hope that someday long after I have moved away, people will sit around the dinner table and muse… “Remember when that funny looking white guy lived here and he didn’t run people off of the road? What a wierdo.”