The colonial legacy is still there: in Kinshasa, you eat waffles and drink beer - very good beer - just like you do in Belgium.

Light and refreshing Primus dominates the market - "Leader na bière", as its trilingual slogan puts it. But the Democratic Republic of Congo is home to an array of brews that stretches to the nourishing Doppel and to Tembo, a tasty ale.

To obtain your share of the precious beverage, the directions are easy: spot the nearest "dépôt de boissons", where you can fill your home fridge for a handful of dollars.

There, things can get a little complicated for expatriates unaware of local customs. If, in a tragic moment, you did not include a 12-bottle plastic crate on your list of essentials to bring from Europe, you are in trouble.

No self-respecting dépôt de boissons would sell anything but beer, excluding bottles and the indispensable transport case.

How does the cycle start? That is a mystery of chicken-and-egg proportions.

For the first time, the "maman" who reigns over the dépôt de boissons agreed to lend us a crate and 12 bottles in return for a $10 deposit and a precise return date for the precious equipment. 

One week to drink 12 fat, 70cl-bottles - the standard size of sub-saharan pints. We were up to the challenge.

Then the miracle happened: during that marathon week, a crate left by the previous tenants emerged from the utility room. Or maybe renting a furnished home systematically includes the indispensable set.

Only two bottles were missing, which we easily replaced for FC500 each at the dépôt de boissons.

The discovery made us bold. When we went for the next refill, we dared to ask for a mix of brands in our 12-pack: could we have one third of Primus, one third of the slightly tastier Skol, and one third of the strong brown ale Turbo King, please?

For a second, the shop attendant's face led us to believe that we had asked the impossible. Then he came up with a solution: we could have a mix as long as we shared the crate in two halves. Six Turbo Kings to the left and a mix of Skol and Primus to the right.

What were the dark interests at stake in that boozy Yalta? We will never know. But that was not the point: as we drove away with our own personal supply of beer without a drink-by date, we felt we had leaped forward on the integration path.

Cheers!