We did a lot of filming on the streets today, and it was liberating and terrifying and gave everyone a huge rush. My impression of Kinshasa has been one of boxes—you drive from walled-in box to walled-in box, whether it’s a house, a compound, a cafe, or a school. Everything has walls, and when you’re in the middle of the street on a day like today the chaos is deafening. My ears were ringing when we left, just from the sound of people and cars. There was one point where the crowd watching us shoot kept building and building and our shots got a little frantic to get out of there quickly before it got out of control, and it was painfully hot, and there was a bit of crackly dangerous tension in the air. At one point when I looked up from my viewfinder I realized I was in the middle of a massive crowd with two cameras slung around my neck and I couldn’t see any of the crew. I finally spotted Pascal’s unform and swam toward him but it was terrifying for half a heartbeat.

The day also included a old crazy man who wouldn’t stop screaming obscenities in Lingala at us—they must have been pretty insane because our driver Fiston shoved him really hard and was about to deck him in the face before Ben pulled him off. The crew wouldn’t tell me what he was saying, but I’m sure it had to do with our white skin as every third word was “mundele”. There was also a chase down of a thief by several police officers right in front of me, which was a horrible sight. Thieves here get treated really really badly and the fear in his eyes as he was dragged away was penetrating.

Tomorrow we’re going out again, though I have a feeling it’ll be a little more low-key. But then again it is Kinshasa—you never know what’s going to happen.