Hawkers are profiting from Congo’s internet blackout
Middle East and Africa
Jan 10th 2019 | KINSHASA
PAPA JEAN, a middle-aged Congolese man who normally makes a living flogging fizzy drinks at the port of Kinshasa, the capital, has stitched an extra pocket into his trousers. The pouch brushes his left knee and sits underneath his trousers’ thin, blue fabric. Twice a week he hops on a slow boat that chugs over the Congo river and fills it with a hundred contraband SIM cards.
A day after the Democratic Republic of Congo held its long-awaited election on December 30th, the authorities cut off the internet. One of President Joseph Kabila’s aides, Barnabé Kikaya Bin Karubi, called this a security measure to “protect the lives of Congolese citizens”. Others suspected Mr Kabila of wanting to silence dissent and fiddle the count in favour of his preferred successor, Emmanuel Ramazani Shadary. Yet in the two weeks of digital darkness before the results were released declaring the winner as Felix Tshisekedi, residents of Kinshasa were nervous about what might happen next—and eager to get online.
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Where some saw hardship, others spied opportunity. Jean (who did not want his surname revealed) and his colleagues at the port have been selling SIM cards smuggled across the river from Brazzaville, the capital of the other Congo. These allow users to connect to their neighbouring country’s mobile network.
The two Congos (the Republic, and the much larger and inaptly named Democratic Republic) face each other across a wide stretch of muddy water. Brazzaville is smaller, safer and cleaner than Kinshasa. It has fewer than 2m people; the megacity over the river has 12m. At night, lovers sit on Kinshasa’s grassy river banks and admire Brazzaville’s twinkling lights.
Smuggling SIM cards is not a bad business. In Brazzaville the cards sell for the equivalent of $1.75. In Kinshasa they fetch $10 each. Airtime coupons worth $2 are sold on for nearly triple that. Jean, who used to earn a paltry $1.20 a day selling drinks, now earns more than ten times as much. He is putting some cash aside so that—maybe—his oldest son can go back to school. A mafia that operates at the port sets minimum rates, he says. Hawkers may sell cards for more than $10 but it would be rash for them to try to undercut others.
One snag with most of the Brazzaville SIM cards, however, is that they work only near the river. No wonder the riverbank has filled up with even more young romancers than usual, all looking as deeply into their glowing handsets as into the eyes of their paramours.
See also: Congo declares Félix Tshisekedi president. Voters suspect a stitch-up (January 12th 2019)