A small leak where the rubber meets the rim.

I was duly warned: tubeless tyres are good enough for Europe, but here, good old strong tubes are required.

I drove to the nearest quado (tyre repair shop). Dozens of these open-air workshops dot the streets of Kinshasa.

The mechanic spotted the leak in a water tank and used two levers as well as his bare feet to separate the rubber from the steel. He then “borrowed” a handful of foufou, the porridge that constitutes many Congolese's staple diet, from a woman who was eating next to us.

His expert fingers helped the starch fill the gaps. The mechanic then turned to a compressor that looked home-made. The belts that connected the motor and the pump were entirely made of recycled tubes. Power came from God knows where via a collection of multicoloured wires and charged a few mobile phones on the way.

The compressor started with a gentle push from the hand and inflated my tyre, which expelled a roll of excess foufou.

That was two weeks ago. Of course, I have got other flat tyres since then, but that wheel has remained intact ever since.