Kinshasa — "Don't touch glasses with a woman in Kinshasa tonight," a sergeant-major warns before the take-off from Pretoria.

"Once you have done that, she is your responsibility for the evening. You will have to pay for her drinks, for her food ...and even her taxi home."

Images of glamorous nightspots this advice on Kinshasa customs might have conjured up don't last long.

To the first-time visitor, the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) has nothing alluring to offer. The vast city of an estimated five million people is a picture of chaotic neglect.

Buildings are run-down, factories stand empty, and streets are in a state of disrepair.

The roads from the dilapidated airport terminal into town are lined with hundreds of shacks. On both sides, masses of people mill around with no apparent purpose.

Closer to the city, it appears as if every inch of ground along the road has been taken up by informal traders, selling bread, vegetables, soup, scrap metal, old furniture, and other odd items.

Many of them sit under torn umbrellas, packed closely together like sardines in a tin in the sweltering humidity.

Traffic is heavy and precarious.

Visitors might conclude that a vehicle needs only four turning wheels to pass a roadworthiness test. Most of these contraptions, including minibus taxis, appear to be hanging on to mobility by their proverbial fingernails.

Driving into the city the fresh wreck of a vehicle that appeared to have simply fallen off its wheels was to be seen beside the road.

"Tomorrow the engine and all other portable parts will be gone to be traded for whatever," said a military officer.

The concept of overloading gained new meaning in the streets of Kinshasa.

Rarely do you see a minibus with its back door closed because the space at the rear is used by an extra four passengers with their legs dangling outside.

Open side windows serve to accommodate additional hangers-on taking an open-air ride.

The opportunity to see snatches of Kinshasa came when Defence Minister Mosiuoa Lekota invited reporters along on a visit this week to South African troops doing peacekeeping duty in the DRC capital.

Their deployment forms part of United Nations-supervised efforts to end more than three years of war in the central African country.

Rebels with military support from Rwanda and Uganda took up arms against the DRC government in August 1998. Angola, Zimbabwe and Namibia entered the war on the side of the government, which controls less than half the country.

The warring parties signed a peace accord in the Zambian capital Lusaka in 1999, but progress on putting the pact into effect has been slow.

As the bus ferrying reporters moved closer to the city centre, the only semblance of local government to be seen were comical traffic cops dressed in black trousers and bright yellow shirts. An equally yellow helmet completes the uniform.

At two or three busy intersections a traffic cop stand on a portable pedestal, directing traffic with jerky hand movements. At other crossings, traffic control is left to natural stop street justice.

Not more than two traffic lights were seen to be functioning.

Apart from the traffic officials, the only the other formal employment seems to relate to policing. You see a couple of policemen sitting on the steps of a large empty building, which appears to have been their headquarters.

Other state buildings along the way are also grey and bare, as are one factory after the other.

When you ask military staff stationed in Kinshasa how the people are making a living, they just shake their heads.

Locals appear to be surviving by bartering produce or whatever they can get hold of.

The only economic activity where you see money changing hands involves shoe-shiners waiting on visitors.

They gather outside the outside the Grand Hotel -- the only hotel and the only grand thing you see in Kinshasa.

The balconies of the five-star establishment overlook the mighty Congo River, with the buildings of Congo Brazzaville visible on the other side.

At places four kilometres wide, the river is a vital trade link in the DRC that is more than twice the size of South Africa.

On arriving in Kinshasa, you have to put your watch back by one hour. But this central African city, drained by conflict, past corruption and mismanagement, has fallen much further behind.

The next stop on Lekota's trip -- the Burundian capital of Bujumbura --is a pleasant surprise after Kinshasa.

Streets and pavements are clean, buildings are tidy, and there actually is a business centre.

Situated on Lake Tanganyika, a clear landmark is the white buildings of the local university high up on a hill.

But you hear that the youth in Burundi don't have much confidence in the future of their country, which has been plagued by an eight-year civil war between Hutu rebels and the minority Tutsi government.

Young people tend to have only one ideal -- to get asylum in Europe or countries such as Canada.

In Kinshasa, you would not expect to encounter idealism among residents. The prevailing impression is one of submission to poverty and squalor.

As for the sergeant-major's advice, it would in any event have been prohibitively expensive to buy drinks or food at the Grand Hotel.

Priced in dollars, a soft drink cost close to R40 and a bottle of house wine about R180. For a club sandwich you will have to fork out more than R140 and for a fillet steak about R250.

A sense of relief on the return trip to South Africa is inevitable. There is even inspiration to be derived from the miracle that has spared this southern tip of the continent the ravages of a drawn-out civil war.