Essential French phrases

Hello, twice — and the single most useful thing to know about Kisangani. This is the hinge where Lingala coming up the river meets Swahili coming from the east. Both are spoken all day; picking one and sticking to it is what marks you out, not which one you pick.

'How's it going?' in Swahili and in Lingala. Answer 'mzuri' or 'sango te' respectively. Getting the pair the right way round is a small thing that people notice and enjoy.

Thank you, in Swahili and Lingala. Melesi, from the French merci, works with everyone and is what you will hear most in the market.

The Enya people who fish the Boyoma rapids from timber scaffolds wedged into the rocks, lowering conical basket traps into the current. Also the name everyone uses for the falls themselves. It is the image of this city.

Not a beach. The river port — where the barges tie up, where cargo for two thousand kilometres of river is loaded, and where the whole of Kisangani's supply chain physically happens. 'Au beach' is a destination, an industry and a piece of news all at once.

The big motorised river boat, and the realistic way people and goods move on the Congo. A baleinière to Kinshasa is measured in weeks, not days, and the departure date is a strong suggestion rather than a schedule.

The indigenous name of the falls, restored in the 1970s in place of 'Stanley Falls'. Worth knowing which name you are using: 'Stanleyville' became Kisangani on 3 May 1966 and the older names carry a lot of history with them.

'There is no road.' Said flatly, without drama, about places that appear on maps with roads drawn to them. In Tshopo it is usually literally true, and it is the sentence that explains the price of everything in the market.

Fish, wrapped in banana leaf and steamed, and fish generally. A river city eats fish, and the capitaine from the Congo is the thing to order — grilled at a riverside nganda in the evening.

Pounded cassava leaves in palm oil — the same dish under its Lingala and Swahili names, which is a neat illustration of where you are standing. With chikwangue and fish it is the everyday meal.

Okay, agreed, fine — the Swahili and the Lingala. Either closes a negotiation. Using both in the same conversation is completely normal here and nowhere else in the country.

Foreigner, white person — again in both languages. Descriptive rather than hostile, and a reliable indication that a price has just been reconsidered upward.

Slowly, gently, in its own time. Advice more often than description, and a fair summary of how a city at the end of two thousand kilometres of river conducts its business.