How many evenings are this diverse? My evening started dining out on frogs legs and crocodile brochettes (ruined only slightly by a cockroach running across the table); was followed by an impromptu stop on the drive home to play a game of football with a crowd of street kids under the light of one of Kinshasa starkly out of place digital advertising screens at a crossroads; included a visit to a supermarket where yoghurts cost $4 and bars of chocolate $6; and ended offering to laminate the mechanics and driving certificates of a street youth patrolling the supermarket car park looking for someone trusting enough to help him turn his qualifications into a livelihood, concerned that his life and future rested in those few fragile, fraying and stained pieces of paper.
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