A Chinese Ethnographer in DR Congo – Part 3

Why would a Chinese PhD student choose to conduct anthropological research in Congo? How did he secure access to the field? Do Chinese-Congolese couples exist, considering the “self-segregation” of the Chinese in Africa? How does a Chinese ethnographer navigate his identity and positionality with both Congolese and Chinese informants in the field?

In a series of four blog posts, Cai Chen, a PhD student at the Université libre de Bruxelles, provides insights from his ethnographic fieldwork experiences in the course of his ongoing doctoral research on Chinese-Congolese couples residing in Congo.

A Chinese Ethnographer in DR Congo: Reflections on the Field and Fieldwork
[Part 3] Segregated Interactions: Do Chinese-Congolese Couples Exist?

    “Dear passengers, it’s 6:30 pm in Kinshasa [….].” [flight announcement]

On 14 December 2022, my Brussels Airlines flight landed on time at Kinshasa N’djili Airport. Upon arrival, I underwent a check for the Covid vaccination or PCR negative certificate before entering the airport’s arrivals hall. While waiting in line for passport control, I noticed an immigration officer winking at me several times. It took me a moment to understand that this officer would ‘help’ me with the document check—an occurrence common among the Chinese in Africa, as I had confirmed with the owner of the restaurant, where I was going to stay in Kinshasa, the need for their service to ‘pick me up’ at the airport. However, I initially thought the airport pick-up service meant that someone—the driver—would be waiting for me at the exit with a piece of paper bearing my name. “Oh my God, I will have to pay a lot more for this extra service that I don’t need because I speak fluent French and my travel document is in good order”, I started getting worried. The immigration officer assisted me through the document check and directed me to another man who would help with finding my luggage and navigating through customs. The latter then escorted me to the car park, where I finally met the driver who would take me to my initial accommodation in Congo. All three of them expressed surprise, saying the same words when they met and spoke with me: “Oh, you speak French!”

This thorough ‘pick-up’ service was arranged by (elder) Sister Lili, the manager and co-owner of the restaurant. The restaurant with five guest rooms occupies the top floor of an eight-storey administrative building belonging to the Congolese state. On my first night in Kinshasa, I was without internet connection as there was no WIFI at the restaurant. The next morning, my first task was to go out and buy a SIM card, knowing that I could easily find them on the streets, much like in other African countries I had visited. In fact, just around the corner of the courtyard on the boulevard 30 juin, I quickly found a vendor without the need for much exploration. The small ‘shop’ was bustling in the morning, and I had to wait patiently. Suddenly, a man shouted at me: “Aie, Chinese! You should go where the expats are!”. “Such hospitality in Kinshasa! It’s my first day here and I just want to get a SIM card.”, I replied. The man stared at me in surprise and then fell silent. The encounter left me feeling shocked, alienated, and othered. Reflecting on previous studies and my own lived experiences, I was reminded of the “self-segregation” of the Chinese in Africa. Nevertheless, I maintained a belief that there had to be various forms of people-to-people interaction between Chinese and Congolese, including intimate relationships.

After purchasing the SIM card, I headed straight back to my room. It was a Thursday, and the building was buzzing with activity. To reach the top floor, I needed to take the lift, but there were already three people—two women and a man—in the lobby awaiting its arrival. The building had three lifts in total, one on the right with the restaurant’s name on the door, and two others on the left (only one was operational). Earlier that morning, I had used the lift reserved for the restaurant’s customers and staff, which went directly to the top floor. As I entered the lobby, one of the lifts on the left opened its doors, and I rushed over to catch it. Just as I barely entered before the doors closed, one of the women spoke to me, pointing to the opposite side: “It’s over there for the Chinese!” Confused, I asked, “Why?” She responded, “It’s you Chinese who want it that way, and that lift there is only for Chinese!” I replied, “But this lift is already here, and I can take this one, right? Besides, it’s my first day in Kinshasa, I just want to go to the top floor, to the Chinese restaurant.” Surprisingly, she smiled and said, “Ah, you know how to express yourself in French. That’s good! Not like other Chinese. Welcome to Congo!”

When the lift finally reached the top floor and its door opened, I noticed the name of the restaurant on the opposite wall and a large red metal door on the left, marking the boundary of the ‘Chinese space’ in that Congolese public building. Upon returning to my room, I found myself pondering which spaces belonged to the Chinese or the so-called expatriates in Congo and how everyday interactions unfolded between them and locals, in particular considering the language barriers they often faced. It appeared, however, that the Chinese in Congo maintained good relations with local officials, as evidenced by the privileged airport pick-up service. Nevertheless, a sense of concern crept in, fearing that I might encounter difficulty in finding Chinese-Congolese couples. On my first day, the observed ‘ethnic ghetto’ and tensions between people inside and outside intensified this worry. Despite this, I remained eager to meet Liyuan and her Congolese husband, the only couple I knew at the time.

Liyuan met and married her Congolese husband, Héritier, in China. They have three children and have been residing in Kinshasa since 2007. Our meeting took place at her restaurant. Similar to her intercultural family, Liyuan aspires to make their ‘unique’ Chinese restaurant accessible not only to Chinese or other foreigners but also to Congolese, serving as a bridge between different cultures and cuisines. When I disclosed the purpose of my trip, she readily agreed to participate in my research. However, she added a note of caution, saying, “But our couplehood may be different from others and can’t be representative.” In fact, both Liyuan and Héritier are fluent in French and Chinese, holding at least a master’s degree with academic training in social sciences. This background made it relatively easy for them to comprehend the nature of anthropological research and understand what researchers do or do not do with recorded interviews. For other Chinese and Congolese individuals that I encountered, I had to navigate the best approach to persuade them on one hand and continually negotiate my own identity and positionality in the field on the other.

* Cai Chen is grateful to Prof. Katrien Pype (KU Leuven), coordinator of the Congo Research Network, for her kind invitation and invaluable comments and editing suggestions. These blog posts have been adapted into a methodology note in French, published in the issue n° 288 of the journal Suds : Géographies critiques, perspectives des Suds.