Congo

During my final week in Rwanda, my friend Kevin and I decided to brave a trip into Congo to hike the infamous Nyiragono Volcano in a national park outside of Goma. Eight years ago, amidst a spiralling civil war and peacekeeping effort, Nyiragongo erupted and destroyed much of Goma, forcing millions residing in refugee camps to relocate yet again. The volcano remains active and continues to send smoke and steam out over the city from time to time.

I had really wanted to make this trip for weeks, but I was wary to go alone. If nothing else, I think a part of me wanted the Congo stamp in my Passport - basically akin to just tatooing 'Hardass' on the inside of your forearm. So I'm really grateful that Kevin came along, just in time.

Once in Goma, we met an acquaintance and caught a ride out of the city to the park. On the way, we passed the various UN compounds and headquarters for the near-impossible peacekeeping mandate in eastern Congo. Supply trucks are everywhere, in and out of the city. Those entering were often hauling large groups of villagers, sitting on top of supply loads and clutching their belongings. The refugee crisis here has essentially gone on uninterrupted since the diaspora following Rwandan genocide in 1994. Many people fled to settle in the jungles of the Kivu Province in Congo, but the conflict followed, and continues to be fueled by competing claims to the vast natural resources in the region. Villagers have moved in and out of refugee camps around Congo for over a decade, fleeing an ongoing and itinerant war.

We met up with our porters and guards at the park to begin our hike. Our group was armed throughout our time there, to protect the rebel militiamen who tend to encroach on park boundaries. Five hours later, we reached the clouded summit of Nyiragongo. At about 12,000 feet it was spitting rain, too foggy to see 20 yards ahead, and howling wind. We scrambled to put up a tent to block the wind, and we huddled inside to nap through the evening.

Throughout the afternoon, the crater had radiated heat and let out a constant, low rumble; but we could never see down through the fog. But by nightfall, we awoke to find the fog had cleared out, and directly below us churned a lake of lava. These are the pictures I posted below. We stood transfixed, watching it stir and spit and spew for several hours. The orange haze lit up the night sky above. It is one of the most incredible sights I have ever seen. We camped there that night (too cold to sleep really), right on the edge. One feel slightly less significant while standing over a bubbling volcano.

The coolest thing had to be the sound. The lava lake sounded just like the ocean, under constant motion and pressure - like large waves breaking over a reef.

Random note - lost 10 pounds in Rwanda. Year to date: 15. Welcome back to high school. This is despite the fact that I'm pretty sure every carb in the world has passed its way through my African diet.

Peace & Love.