walikale

one of the most challenging and fun strips we land at is outside the town of walikale. the "runway" is just a relatively straight section of road that cuts through the jungle. it is lined on both sides by mud huts and children playing.


this is one of the handful of airports that required a checkout with our program chief pilot before i was allowed to fly there alone. this strip is only about 15 feet wide (a typical large airport’s runways are 150 feet wide). there are also deep trenches on both sides, with mud huts and jungle just outside the van's wingspan. if your nosewheel is not within 3-4 feet of centerline, you will go off the side, into these ditches. there is absolutely no room for error when arriving and departing, as the caravan’s main wheels have just a few feet separating them from the edges and steep drop-offs. the beginning of the runway is marked by a couple of wrecked AN-2s that serve as a final reminder to stay in the middle. the ego slapping is consummated with a fun touch: the road has a 30 degree curve in the middle. during rollout you have to turn the aircraft with rudder while you are going 40-50 knots. on departure, you are turning left as you lift off; the wings only a few feet from the trees.

as we approach, i give a call on the CTAF, or common radio frequency that all aircraft monitor. this allows us to sequence ourselves for arrivals and departures. after a low-altitude runway inspection to clear off cars, kids, and goats, i peel off in a gentle right climb. i configure the airplane for landing while in a teardrop turn, and look for the road to reappear from the dense jungle that has swallowed the pavement from line of sight. it’s a subtle, yet humbling reminder; that mother nature tolerates our species’ fumblings and exploits like the giving tree; all in her unhurried, knowing manner. one day we will be gone and she will take it all back, erasing any trace of our wake....

when turning about a 3/4 mile final, the trees relent and finally give me a view of the threshold i will be touching down on in a matter of seconds.


after rolling out, i park at the end, and every kid in sight swarms my bird laden with food, all of their medicine, and the kind people from MSF (doctors without borders). i feather the propeller and shut down, turning around in my seat to say "bienvenue a walikale" to the pax, making sure to smile at the cute french nurse seated behind me. she enthusiastically thanks me for the flight and compliments me on my landing. i try to act like it was no big deal, hiding behind my dark sunglasses and rugged good looks. even a blind hog finds an acorn every now and then......

we unload and every kid in town asks me for water. one boy shows me a cut on his knee, and says (not asks) "you give me one dollar." somehow the planeload of doctors, medicine, and bandages i just flew in have escaped his attention.

unfortunately, we are not the only people flying into walikale.

besides diamonds, gold, oil, and uranium, there is cassiterite in congo. over half of the world's known reserves. and a huge percentage of that is here in walikale.

it is something most westerners use everyday, and the demand has never been higher.

most mines are controlled by rebel military groups, who fly out tons of ore to goma and smuggle it across the rwanda border in order to fund their fighting. it is part of an ongoing conflict that has killed more than 5 million people in congo. none of the profits from this national resource go to the local people who live in the area. this is a staggering loss of much-needed funds to the congolese economy, an estimated $50,000 everyday. no one seems to notice or care that rwanda somehow exports 5 times as much cassiterite as it produces.

for men and young boys living in rural kivu, there are only two options available for work: subsistence agriculture and mining. most choose mining, which has led to a food shortage in this area. it has to be flown in.

4 dedicated aircraft and their vodka-swilling russian pilots fly back and forth to goma all day long. they have no patience for the humanitarian aircraft in their way; bringing in cans of beer and bags of beans for the soldiers, and taking out all these strange moon-dust colored rocks. and the whole time, the people in the villages watch their resources being commandeered in front of them, unable to do anything. they have to remain quiet to avoid being shot in front of their families.

conditions in the mines are deplorable. the soldiers' human rights abuses are colossal. women in the area are raped and forced to be sex slaves in soldier camps. men are beaten and tortured, killed, or arbitrarily arrested. those that agree to work break rocks all day long, and are then paid less than a dollar to walk 2 days to walikale's runway with up to 100kg (220 pounds) of ore in bags on their heads and backs.

andre, a friend and fellow coloradan who works with MSF, always has a new incredible story to tell each time we fly him in or out of walikale. this region has a lot of malaria due to its much lower elevation, warmer temperatures, and flat terrain that gathers the endless drenching jungle rains into mosquito breeding grounds. i ask him how things are going in the field. he pauses, staring at the ground. "in the mining camps, i've been treating many more STD cases than malaria cases. and i treat alot of malaria."

all this because of some rock you've probably never heard of?

so what is this cassiterite?

tin ore. the new blood diamond.


the west can't get enough of it. it is used for electronics components in cell phones and computers. and right now, it is impossible for a consumer to know if the tin comes from a conflict area.



******


a happy, oblivious couple shops for her diamond engagement ring. the man nervously sweats and tries to keep his anxiety hidden at the sight of the price tags. yet he will swallow tradition and cave to social pressure, because nothing says “i love you” like spending three months’ salary to buy a rock that some south african or congolese 7-year old boy was forced to dig up for 20 cents.



******


how many people will give a thought to the origins of their cell phone as they text the latest gossip to their friends or bombard those around them with so much worthless annoying blabber? or of the people killed, raped, tortured, arrested?

a cell phone conversation has about an 84% chance of going something like this:

“i was like, oh my god, i can’t believe he did that, you know, like, really, you know? and like, what did she say? oh my god.”

really, on a scale of 1-10, the level of importance of a given cell phone conversation is generally somewhere between 1 and 1.5.

i am writing this and you are reading this on a computer. you probably have a cell phone. it is unrealistic for people to give these up, but we can demand to know the source of a product we buy. and we can refuse to contribute to the systematic exploitation of so many, so far away. put your lazy-ass senators and congressmen to work. make businesses prove that they don't use conflict tin. it has made a difference with diamonds.....

consumers who purchase these products should be aware that most likely some of the tin originates in a conflict area in congo. so the next time you are thinking of buying yet another new cell phone or laptop, remember where this stuff comes from. and what it's real cost is.

maybe you don't need another one.

the tug of war between aid and exploitation continues. i hope the barefoot little kids know the difference between us pilots.