Who Wants to go to Dingi Dingi? Me!

There are places that, solely based on their name, you know that you must go.  Examples: Timbuktu, Galapagos, and of course Dingi Dingi.  Dingi Dingi is a town (or rather, a cluster of people) 35km (or 1.5 hours, naturally) away from Kinshasa, DRC.  There is nothing much to it besides a dirt road, a medical center, which also acts as the mayor’s office, an army post, and about 50 homes scattered about a field.   Though it doesn’t sound like much of a destination, when a co-worker asked if I wanted to do a site visit, I didn’t even let her finish before I was running towards the Landcruiser and buckling in.

“What was your goal on this site visit?” you may ask.  To get a photo in front of a sign that said Dingi Dingi of course!  Okay, okay, and also to soak in the world outside of Kinshasa and to see the wonderful anti-malarial net distribution campaign of my organization at work.  Due to an intimidating police presence around the ONLY sign saying Dingi Dingi (penalty for taking a photo of government property in DRC: indefinite jail sentence),  goal one was trickily met, but the other two came easily.  The drive through Kinshasa was unsurprisingly depressing.  The closer we got to the huge statue of Lumumba the larger the shanty towns became (why is that how it always works?).  However, as we moved out of the city, the roadside views of poverty became fewer and farther between, being replaced with untouched land, large sloping hills and rushing rivers.  Chatter in the truck came to a full stop as everyone peered into the calm, waving at the occasional bicyclist or pedestrian along the dirt road. 

We finally made it to Dingi Dingi and sleepily stepped out to receive a grand introduction from several men in suits and ties (in 90 degree weather, ouch).  I hoped they didn’t mind my khakis… The children of the village let curiosity get the best of them and began to follow us as we discussed in broken French the purpose of our visit – our donor wanted to see evidence of success from our mass bednet distribution campaign from the year prior, and we wanted to prepare the people of Dingi Dingi for the deluge of white Landcruisers.  As we walked and our host explained the purpose of our visit, women proudly invited us into their homes to show us their properly hung nets.  They showed us the children and young women who slept under the nets. We even had a discussion about how best to clean your nets.  It was living breathing evidence that my job was worthwhile, that lives were being saved.  And as we drove back, I remembered why I loved having a world-wandering job: it gives me the ability to do good work while being lucky enough to see the natural beauties of different countries, to meet a never-ending array of people and cultures, and – of course- to say I’ve been to a place with the memorable name of Dingi Dingi.