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Mbuji-Mayi: Where the Past Meets the Dusty Present. Also, Wi-Fi.

@Hugo Barrett2/7/2026blog

the city of mbuji-mayi isn’t just a name on a map next to a bunch of other cities that sound like they were picked from a hat. no, it’s got history. messy, glorious, south-paw slaps-on-tempers kind of history. i spent three weeks here as a digital nomad, and let me tell you, it’s like living inside a 200-year-old kazoo. old, wobbly, and every time you sneeze, something breaks.

*origins: the pre-rafiki era
so, apparently, mbuji-mayi was born in the 17th century when a guy named mbuzi fought a crocodile man-or maybe it was just a metaphor for colonial exploitation, who knows. but before that? the lemau people were doing their thing, farming yams and trading in copper trinkets. sounds chill, but then belgium showed up in the 1880s, yanked their hands off their chests and slapped a cubist sign over the door.

then in the 1910s, a bunch of white dudes tried to grow tobacco here. they failed spectacularly. the soil here isn’t evil; it’s just allergic to white people. fast forward to 1960, and mbuji-mayi becomes a launching pad for the congo’s mineral rush. cobalt, copper, and enough diamonds to make a hippo sneeze. but also, genocide-adjacent stuff. like, human rights trials at the international court of whatever started here. not cute.

the real talk: rent, safety, and how to stay alive
today’s mbuji-mayi? rent in the goma district averages $200/month for a shoebox with wired rats. safety index? 3.5/10 on numbeo-so basically, if you step out after 8 p.m., you’re either a brave fool or a local who’s already negotiated with the scorpion population. internet? good luck. took me seven tries to sync my job interview. and when it finally died, i’m not lying, my entire GDPR compliance training plans went up in smoke.

ever mind the job market. unemployment here is 75% for anyone under 40. i’m not sure if that’s accurate. maybe it’s 90%. either way, if you’re a digital nomad and want to work, you’re either a hero or a huge risk-taker. probably both.

weather: it’s a hot cheese grater out there
current weather? 32°c, feels like 45. the sky’s doing that thing where it’s a moody teenager-gray and judgmental. don’t panic, though. it’s just the dry season. and yeah, kinshasa is three hours away by flight. pray they don’t hijack your plane for a romantic getaway again. no, seriously, it’s been a thing since the 90s.

mbuji-mayi through the eyes of a misfit
i stayed in that rust-colored motel on chirazi street-the one where the AC sounds like a broken kazoo. overheard gossip level: a’mau. neighbors include a guy who sells firewood by the hour and thinks gamers are witches. legit tip: don’t ask for ice in your coffee. they look confused. like, “you’re ordering a slushie?” in february.

subheading: cafés that hate you
yeah, cafés here are the congo’s version of a pretentious hipster joint. they’ll charge you $2 for a lukewarm latte that tastes like regret. one place here, café l’attente, has this weird vibe. dudes play saxophone covers of “frozen” and wear fedora hats like it’s the 1930s. and the sims machine is always set to “easy mode” because if it’s on “hard,” the patrons riot.

throwback moment: when mbuji-mayi was fashion-forward
turns out, in the 1970s, this place was basically a xylophone of urban development. scooters zipping around, everyone wore shawls stitched with leopard prints, and the mayor had a wall of tiki heads. before that, it was just a mud hut with a goat that judged everyone.

subheading: the red dirt chronicles
yes, the ground here is red. like, it’s in the name, which is nkisi kikongo for “city of red clay.” i’m not joking. walked to the central market and my shoes looked like they’d been dipped in mars. neighbor leaned in and whispered, “careful, man-that dirt’ll stain y’s soul. and it’s permanent. mine’s still red in places.”

overheard at the corner shop:
“① you thinking of staying here? friend warned me about the mosquitos. my cousin’s cat screamed all night last week. turned out the roof was held up by two shoelaces and hope.② don’t believe the government’s avocado toast stats. i saw their budget: 80% goes to military helicopters and bribes. not a single espresso machine in parliament. top priority.”

subheading: your job market, explained
if you’re thinking of hawking selkirk keyboards here, think again. the official unemployment rate is 75%, but that’s the government’s fancy math. people’s reality: 95%. i’m freelancing as a web dev, but i’m also selling mbuzi-themed merch on etsy. because who can resist a hand-carved wooden tape recorder with his face on it?

subheading: how to survive (and maybe thrive)
1. never, ever trust a taxi driver. 2. always carry a flare gun-sounds dramatic, but hike indas and the roads turn into rivers. 3. befriend the local kids. teach them english in exchange for ngoa ngoa (mobility). it’s cheaper than a gym membership.

data time suckers
“data” here is all spreadsheets in a spreadsheet. numbeo’s safety index? 3.5/10. average rent? $200/month in goma. cost of living? technically half nyamurundu, but good luck finding a street vendor.

then there’s the job market. dr congo’s unemployment rate is 75%, but if you’re a foreigner, it’s closer to “please beg me for a job.” surprisingly? the mining sector’s still alive. cobalt for tesla batteries, copper for wires, and a bunch of guys in white in a boardroom somewhere counting profits while we deal with dodo.

dot-com 2.0: fintech and regret
i tried out the local fintech app, m-start. you’d swipe left on a 30-second loading animation and it wants to sell you data packs for $1. the bank there just wired me $200 extra and said, “-when is this guy coming?”

subheading: the invisibles
after three weeks here, i’m starting to see the ghosts. not the seen-floating-above-the-street ones. the ones who’re just... there. old shirts hanging on fences like bad decisions. dogs sleeping in ditches like they’ve given up on life. one old man at the market told me, “man, this city got us. we’re stuck in a loop. everyone’s half-foreigner now. by that, i mean, part belgium, part uganda, part whatever-but born here.”

final thoughts (that aren’t final)
look, mbuji-mayi isn’t for everyone. if you’re the type who needs wifi that doesn’t drop calls like they’re james bond villains, or a coffee shop that doesn’t have a dead phone charging in the carryout, then please… don’t. it’s amazing in those weird, crooked ways. the aura here is like a bad dream you can’t wake up from-but somehow, you keep coming back. just bring a crowbar, a cough syrup, and a pair of noise-canceling headphones.

links you’ll want in your life*
1. numbeo review of mbuji-mayi (your new best friend)
2. local classifieds for part-time scooter repairs (seriously, look here)
3. tripadvisor café reviews (rated “cooler than a fermented goat-butt” by someone from bremen)
4. congo subreddit, if you dare -- flagged as "enter at your own risk"

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About the author: Hugo Barrett

Just a human trying to be helpful on the internet.

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