Juvenal is not as calm as he looks. The last time he crossed the old bridge,
it was close to collapsing. These mechanics are in
for a nasty surprise. Look, there's a broken tree trunk. There's actually two broken tree trunks,
look. The truck will never be able to cross
this bridge look at the state of the wood. There is a solution,
but it comes at a price. Some villagers
have dug out an alternative route, but after five days on the road,
Juvenal is not in the mood to negotiate. We created this detour right here. That's all well and good,
but we don't want to pay to come through. The truck is going to drive through here. We are here to help people,
we lay down sand and soil so that vehicles can drive through. In return, we ask for a bit of money. Okay, do as you wish.
If you want to help us, that's fine. But we are not paying to drive through. Juvenal, jump in the truck,
we're heading off. We've got nothing to give you,
you bunch of thugs. Annoyed, the truck drivers
take the detour by force. Thirty thousand Congolese francs, around 16 pounds for right of way
is far too expensive and would result in even less money
shared between the team. However, if the truck gets stuck,
no villager will come to help them unless they cough up the cash. Juvenal largely relies
on his eight wheel drive truck. For once, strength doesn't lie in numbers. I told you to put a wedge
under the tire and you didn't... which has meant that the truck is
now slipping and can't move forwards. Go and put the wedge in place. The car always drives up
slopes like this, very slowly. It's really difficult to manuever,
I need the help of my mechanics so that the route is passable. You have to stay focused and
save some energy to get out of here. The villages are miffed, while the mechanics
applaud their drivers skills. The road has not been rebuilt in years. I don't even know when the last
work on it took place... I've only ever seen it in this state. In Congo, there is a proverb that says:
he who does not travel does not know the value of men. In South Kivu,
practically all travellers are heroes. It takes courage to traverse
the roads of this region that has been abandoned by the government. To get by, you need to know how
to build bridges in a matter of hours. Towns are almost completely cut off
from the outside world. Bringing them supplies
is an endless journey. Even old army trucks can't reach them. Oh, god, what a disaster. It's been eight hours since we left
and we've hardly moved. Nothing works with this truck. Each mile is like a never ending saga. Congo is not a country for living,
it's a country of suffering. Even the children suffer. In Congo, system D, in other words,
being resourceful is king. While on the face of it,
poverty is widespread, the subsoil of South Kivu is bursting
with precious minerals for the industry, like coltan and cobalt. An ecological crisis. The Ulindi River is being contaminated
for a few grams of gold, although this does not stay
in the miners pockets for long. I have already been robbed twice. By motorbike, by bicycle, in front of
the wheel or flying a plane, the six million Congolese
in the Kivu region fight a daily battle refusing to ever give in. Juvenal's old German military truck
is having a hard time. It's struggling to transport
2000 litres of petrol. Juvenal is delivering this to Shabunda,
the most isolated town in South Kivu. This title will not be taken over
any time soon. The road is a truck killer. We've just broken down,
the clutch disk is buggered. That's why the truck is spinning so much, it's been overloaded
and has finally given out. The truck was manufactured in 1978
and it's been on the road ever since. This is the 10th breakdown they've
dealt with since setting off. They're only a few miles from Shabunda,
so the mechanics want to return on foot. Juvenal tries to convince them to stay. We've been on the road for
five days now, we're knackered. Yes, I know, it's hard.
Let's keep the morale up and get to work right away
on fixing this truck. Let's not waste time, let's sort this out
and we'll head off straight afterwards. It's going to take lots of morale. All they have is a few adjustable spanners
and their own muscles to move parts weighing more than 100 kilograms. Ten hours later,
the shrewd mechanics have won their bet. Their only prize is satisfaction.
They have a bleak night ahead of them. Move over, get behind me, I'm the oldest,
I should get the best spot. The following morning, Juvenal
and his team finally arrive in Shabunda. Only three trucks
like his dare to supply the city. The drivers take it in turn
as much as possible, but every time it's a nightmare. The journey here was really tiring. It took us a week to take a route
that's only 43 miles long. It takes a huge amount
of strength and courage. And in the middle of the wet season, we can sometimes spend
two to three weeks on this route. We know when we are leaving,
but never know when we will arrive. The city is running dry
and is almost completely out of petrol, given that it's been almost three weeks
since it was last supplied with it. Give me a litre of petrol
for the motorbike, please! Four pounds per litre, a small fortune. Shabunda is so difficult to reach
that prices are skyrocketing. The cost of living is more expensive here
than in any European city. Whilst petrol arrives in trucks, food
on the other hand, arrives by plane. The small twin engine planes
can only transport two tonnes of merchandise,
which once again raises prices. The 80,000 residentsmust pay
a heavy price for their isolation. Four wooden planks are enough
to start up a luxury grocer's shop. Five hundred grams of beans, please. In his shop,
David sells everything three to four times more expensive
than in the rest of the country. Look at this bag of flour,
for example. I buy it for 16 pounds
in the city of Goma, then I pay 24 pounds to have it
transported here by plane, where I then sell it
for a minimum of 40 pounds, earning me
a profit of just 40 pence per bag It's the same for water. I buy this
box of water in Goma for five pounds and when I transport something by air,
it costs me 17 pounds. So I don't have a choice, I sell each
bottle at a retail price of four pounds. That only makes
a 35 pence profit per bottle. Do you manage to find clients that will
buy these products at such high prices? It's true that the items are expensive,
but people don't have the choice. They buy them,
otherwise, they've got nothing. If the goods were brought by vehicles,
that would obviously be more convenient and we could reduce our prices, but given the conditions
of the road it's impossible. Shabunda is beginning to feel cursed. The road to paradise,
even if it's the fastest, is not easy. Every time they approach the city, Malou
and his co-pilot feel rather uneasy. This is a very dangerous,
mountanious region. There have already been
many accidents in this region. But if no one goes to or flies to these
remote areas, these people will go hungry. We should, however, be very cautious.
The main thing is to always be cautious. Especially given that the landing strip is located
right in the middle of the city. The locals regularly cross it
to go from one neighborhood to another. But this is not without its risks. A few days before we began filming, a little girl was hit
by a plane during takeoff. The problem with this runway is
that a lot of people live very close by. I have to use my whistlr
to tell people to leave. On top of this, I'm the only person
here managing safety, so it's not easy. Walking along the sides of the runway
is just as dangerous. There are landings that have skidded
off the runway like in 2017. The reality is that the control tower
is not properly equipped to guide the pilots. No radar,
just a CB radio to communicate with. Papa, Kilo, Shabunda. At least when it's working. Golf, Papa, Kilo, Shabunda. Thirty flights a week are just about
enough to feed the city. The 2000 litres of petrol
that Juvenal brought over has swiftly been sold. The next day
another truck takes to the road, but this time it is Junior
who's in charge of the journey. Juvenal warns him about the
dangers of this route. Be careful, the bridge
is completely broken. The old German military truck,
still bears the scars of Junior's last journey. And that's not all. On the way here, he ran out of petrol,
so this time he takes the lot. This is our back-up fuel.
We prefer taking extra stock. There's nowhere you can top up en route, and we have no idea
how long we'll be travelling for. The poorest travelers,
use these trucks to leave the city. Don't move, little one, Mummy's coming. This is the case for Maria
and her family. They could not afford
the 316 pounds flight. I'm going to the city of Kindu,
I'm going with my mother and my baby. My husband recently left me,
we've split up. I can't afford the airplane,
so I get the truck. The travel conditions are very difficult
with my mother and baby, but life in Shabunda is so tough. We don't have enough money
to stay here, it's too expensive. They pay 10 pounds each
for a corner of the wagon. There was space to sit in the cabin, but even 20 pounds
was beyond their budget. Okay, see you later.,
safe travels. Reaching the town of Mugembe
is quite a journey. It can take anywhere between three days
and three weeks to cover the 43-mile route. Junior is not even out of the city
and has already hit a hurdle. There's a big tractor blocking the road,
but it's no big deal, we'll get around it. With this truck, I can go anywhere,
I make my own detours. For this road,
you need an eight wheel drive truck, it's the only way you can drive here. This truck really can go anywhere at all. Well, obviously, sometimes things
get broken, like the windscreen. What happened to the windscreen? A huge branch hit the windscreen
and it broke everything. Does that happen a lot? Yes, it happens a lot,
the first time it happened, it gave me this big cut on my arm. In the back of the truck,
it's even riskier. You have to watch where you sit,
because there are branches that can hit you in the face. If you get a branch in your eye or mouth,
you could get seriously injured. It's good here because
you can bend down quickly. Look out, there are branches! It's so dangerous! Junior and his truck
stop in every village. They are the jungle deliverymen. We're here to collect the engine. The villagers are sending it
to Mugembe to be fixed. Watch out, I'm about to let go. Turn it on its side
and we'll all lift it together. Come on, are you drunk or something? The engine weighs more than 200 kilos. It's fine, we did it. It's difficult because we load the truck
using purely the strength of our arms. We're not machines. What's going on over there? Duer rushes to split up Junior
and a mechanic who were having a drunken fight
over some shifty money matters. The mechanic has been
handed over to the police. Calm down, kid,
have you had too much to drink? I want my money!
You have no right to keep it. If you want to take me down to the station
you'll have to take him too, the driver owes me nine quid! Are you with him?
Do you work on the truck? The guy's drunk,
he left his money with the driver, and now he wants it back. But Junior hasn't got
this money anymore. Why are you slapping me?
I just want my money, I'm not a thief. The crew have just lost
one of their men. The police take him
to sober up at the station. To make matters worse, in a few miles,
having one less pair of hands will begin to take its toll on the team. The baby is well protected. Maria's mum, however, seems to be enjoying
the worsening situation. According to Duer,
laughter will ward off bad luck. We can laugh and we can smile,
but through the pain. We suffer a lot. He doesn't use this word lightly. Over the next few miles,
things take a turn for the worse. The 28 ton old German truck becomes
more and more out of control. Oh God, what a disaster. Junior has ended up in a ditch
just three miles from where they set off. This happens sometimes,
we often get stuck in the mud when it starts to rain. We don't know what's out there
ahead of us, I lost control of the truck. and I skidded, but it'll be fine,
it's no big deal, we're used to it. It's a very tricky situation. This section of the road is terrible, it's
going to be difficult getting out of here. We need to dig to free the whell
that's stuck in the mud. But with God on our side,
I think we'll get through this. It is 11:00 pm.
They've been digging for six hours now. For Maria and her mother these six hours have been spent waiting
in the back of the wagon. She's had enough. I'm fed up, I'd rather go and sleep
in the next village, we're too cold. And I haven't had
anything to eat all day. I need to protect my child. It's been eight hours since we left
and we've hardly moved. Nothing works with this truck. They will walk for two more hours
in complete darkness. The mud is taking its toll on others too. Francois and his brother
have been pushing their bicycle for three days. They are returning to Shabunda. They went to buy some much cheaper food
at the other end of the route, an 87 mile round trek that allows
them to feed their family. I'm transporting rice, oil,
cassava and even a cockerel. Is it alive? Yes, it's alive. How many kilos
is the bike carrying? There are 250 kilos on the bike. Congo is not a good country to live in,
you're better off leaving this country. It's a country of suffering,
even the children suffer. We lack a leader of good will. Damn it, the oil can! What's happened, Francois? Our oil can has fallen over, I'm afraid. As soon as I get home,
Mum is going to hit me. She'll think that I sold the oil on our
way over, that's why I'm scooping it up. We will eat it,
we will use this oil. And that's used as a light? Yes, so we can see
when working in the dark. I work for the Congolese government at
the Institute of Rural Development but for a pitiful salary. I earn nine pounds a month. Francois and his brother
bumped into Junior and his mired truck at around 1:00 am. The mechanics are still hard at work. They commend the two brothers
for their determination. They're faring better with their bike
than with an eight wheel drive truck. Junior is hoping that tomorrow
his truck will muster the strength to not only escape the mire,
but also finish the remaining 40 mile journey
but it's a long shot. An isolated region
with a sky high cost of living, you may wonder why some 80,000 people
continue to live in Shabunda. Well, because everyone has a disease
that drives them crazy. Gold fever. The Ulindi river
that flows below the region is sitting atop a huge treasure trove. In Shabunda, precious metal trading houses
have sprung up like mushrooms. On the scale, there are
two grams of gold dust. The dust is sent to our bosses in Bukavu, who then sell it onto foreign countries,
like Dubai. In Shabunda, one gram of gold is worth
40 pounds, and there, it resells for 200 pounds. Since the discovery
of the precious metal in 2014, thousands have come to seek their fortune
on the Ulindi River. I'm inserting some cotton
to stop water coming through. If the water gets in,
we'll sink of course. The cotton helps seal
any holes in the pirogue. To make a bung,
we mix cotton with palm oil. This creates a hard paste like real glue.
It works just fine, no problem. Dozens of old small boats
take the miners out to the mining sites, almost like a floating coffin
but for the living. Gutie is the only one
wearing a life jacket and for good reason. Two weeks ago, his boat sank
and he's one of the few survivors. Of the 17 people on board,
only four survived. I lost several friends
in the accident. I survived thanks to
the captain of the boat. He managed to throw me a gas canister,
so that I could float and keep my head above the water. There were whirlpools
and very strong currents. It was hard to swim back to shore. I feel afraid when
I think about what happened, I have flashbacks of the dead bodies. I frequently suffer from panic
attacks and I have nightmares. Being a miner is a little
like being a soldier; you never know
if you're going to come home alive. Between the shipwrecks and the armed
groups that racketeer the gold miners, the Ulindi River is beginning to look more
like the Wild West. Get the hell out of here! With more than 200 illegal mines scattered
across the banks and on the river, it's hardly surprising
that our cameras are not welcome here. Clear off, what are you doing here? Hey, you shouldn't film here!
Stop that. Hey white boy, quit filming here,
I'm going to throw stones at you. We're going to give
some water to your baby. Kojak works on a dredger,
his a diving miner. What he's about to do is very hard, and
you never know what he's going to find. It's true, diving is dangerous. A good diver must be supple,
have good breath control, and of course, be a good swimmer. And this pipe is my lifeline.
This is what I'm going to breathe through. Right then, wish me luck. He'll need it. On average, the river claims the life
of one diver every month. Fifteen metres underwater Kojak
sucks up the sand with this large pipe
that is connected to a pump. The gold is recovered with this filter. It really is luck of the draw,
because sometimes you can get five grams, and then sometimes nothing at all. Look there at those
twinkling stars, that's gold. Kojak resurfaces
after two hours of diving. How did it go? Good, my work here is done. The depths of the river yields
somewhere between 500 and 700 kilograms of gold a year. The Congolese benefit very little
from this abundance of gold. Kojak tells us
that Congolese miners are taxed by gangs and that Chinese companies
excavate the riverbed with much more efficient dredges. This dredger sank,
it belonged to a Chinese company. It's now completely ruined. When the gold runs dry,
they get set up a little further along. The Chinese pose a big problem for us. They make arrangements with the Congolese
authorities by giving them money. And on top of that, they pay
armed groups to protect themselves. They steal our money and resources,
and they earn money by going back to China while we remain poor. The City of Shabunda
does not reap a single benefit from all this gold. The majority of miners work illegally and the officials in charge
of monitoring them are usually corrupt. On top of this, the city has
no running water or electricity. The river is their only source
of clean water, but not for much longer. Gold panels release almost one ton
of mercury into the river each year. It's a poison that slowly kills,
but blinded by the gold rush, no one wants to believe this,
including Kojak. We are used to drinking this water,
am I afraid to drink it? Not at all. I only use this water,
our bodies have got used to it, that's why we are never ill. If you drink this water
and then drink bottled water, you will have stomach problems. Our body can't handle bottled water
anymore, it even makes us sick! The poison is not going
anywhere any time soon. According to the NGO Global Witness, an estimated 23 billion pounds
worth of gold lies under the soil in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. Enough to make bandits
and corrupt elites rich. As for the rest, all they can do is dream
and struggle a great deal. Despite their efforts, Junior's truck
refuses to get out of the quagmire. In the space of a day, they've travelled just three miles
and there are still another 40 to go until they reach their destination. After slaving away for 10 hours,
they are finally free. But for how long? In the early hours of the morning,
Maria and her mum get back in the truck with little hope
of arriving during the day. Junior doesn't average
any more than one mile per hour, and the track
is just one pitfall after another. Mechanics like Beyanfae
are at the end of their tether. So far, I have never injured myself. But it's true that
we're taking a lot of risks. I try to be careful on each trip. I earn something like
16 pounds for each trip, but nobody knows
how long the journey will take. The longer the journey,
the less the money I earn. Over the past six months, I've only made
80 pounds because the road is bad. Without me, my family can't eat. I work like a slave, but if I want to provide for my family
and for them to eat, I don't have a choice. There are many others on the road
who must go through blood, sweat and tears so they don't starve to death. What's going on over there? There are motorcyclists
in the ditch in front of us. Are they stuck? Yes. There are bicycles too. They are slaves to the road, who transport the impossible,
bringing food to Shabunda for the shopkeepers
that cannot afford the plane. We transport food because
there are no other jobs. As bikers, it's very difficult
to find other work. We are suffering,
just look at the road. I'm angry. Someone needs to ask our president how he can leave
the road in Shabunda like this. Roads are being improved
in loads of other provinces, but for us here in South Kivu,
nothing is being done. It takes four days
to travel 20 miles here whereas if the road was in good condition we could do that in one day
and earn more money I make 4.5 euros to travel this road,
it's not nearly enough to live on. The government really needs to help us,
they must rebuild this road. Come on, hurry up,
we've got to clear the road now! They need to get a move on,
because my truck here is not able to brake so if the bikes stay there,
I could run them over. Move it! The team have now travelled
nine miles more or less without a hitch. It's just as well given
that this part of the jungle is patrolled by armed groups. Many hijackings take place here,
so Junior does not want to get stuck. Not that he has any say on the matter. It's no use, we're stuck. I've already been robbed
twice by armed robbers. What did they steal? They are interested in solar panels,
batteries, and especially mattresses. The militia need them
for sleeping in the bushes, therefore,
it's very dangerous to be carrying them. Some have even fired shots at the truck,
it's always dangerous to park. It is 30 degrees
and the water supply has run out. A man has gone looking
for some. Parched, Maria and her mother
go to meet him. Hey, over here, we're thirsty. Palm wine, to motivate
the crew that are working. We're going to give
some water to your baby. Give some water to the baby's mum. Hey, save some for the others. It's really hard,
we're struggling and we're too hot. A little further on, road workers are trying to put
an end to the road's curse. They're not paid by the state,
but by several villages that have pulled their resources. Except they haven't got any tools. We work with spades like these,
a machete, a pickaxe, is this real? Is it not enough
to rebuild the road? No, it's just not enough. For one day's work,
you are given two pounds. That's the way it is,
you can't turn that down, if they give it to you,
you take it. That's the way it goes. Why is the government not doing
anything about the road. They're poor. No, they aren't poor,
it's because they have forgotten us. They've forgotten about this territory. 0ne hundred miles is like
1000 miles of work. Since the day I was born, I've never
seen a road in good condition. For our country's suffering,
we work through thick and thin. On Junior's end, him and his mechanics
are picking up the pace. Tomorrow morning, they have a meeting
with a driver in Matili to pick up more cargo. Except the man is still far away.
Very far away. He's coming via a different route. But since setting off, the truck driver
is having troubles of his own. In every village he goes through, he comes across a toll or rather a hole that's been expertly maintained
by the locals. What! You want me to give you money,
is that what's going on here? What's the problem? The problem is that
we are stuck on the road and they are asking
for money to use the detour. It's not our fault that
the road is like this. Let me through.
Twenty five pounds is too much. I'll give you nine pounds. Nine pounds is not enough to pay everyone. It's annoying having to put up with this,
we've been taxed along the whole route. A passenger has come up with a smart idea. He fears that the detour
is just another trap that's been designed to ask for more money. Listen here,
the issue here is simple. If you take the detour,
you risk getting stuck in the mud, and that will cost you even more money. Whereas if we fill the hole with
tree trunks, it will be easier to cross. Okay, quickly bring me some trunks
so that we can put them here. Follow me. For 20,000 Congolese francs or 9 pounds
the villagers agree to help them. Carry on chopping trunks,
we are going to start carrying this one. Come on, let's lift it all together. We're always chopping trees for this road.
It's exhausting and one hell of a struggle Add some sand and soil! Give us the money first. What are you talking about? Come one,
less conversation, more work. Towards the end of the
day, John sets off again. Yes, I'm afraid. I'm only human. It will take him two days
to meet with Junior. In the jungle, never mind being on time. Reaching your destination
is a feat in itself. As for Junior, he will reach Mugembe
after a long nine day trek punctuated by countless pitfalls. Why are you hitting it? We are exhausted,
it's a sign of our tiredness. We're angry and very tired,
that's why we're hitting it, to show how we don't want to work anymore. If we had a good road, we could have
carried on working, but there is no road. Their ordeal is endless. The drive back to Shabunda
will take just as long as the way there: nine days. Despite its
magnificent wealth of minerals, the region is not about to escape
from its isolation anytime soon. The blame mainly lies
with the armed groups and corruption that plagues the country. For as long as they remain active,
the youth of South Kivu will see modernity as an impossible dream.
