Matadi is the chief sea port of the Democratic Republic of the Congo and the capital of the Bas-Congo province. It has a population of 245,862 (2004). Matadi is situated on the left bank of the Congo River 148 km (92 mi) from the mouth and 8 km (5.0 mi) below the last navigable point before rapids make the river impassable for a long stretch upriver. It was founded by Sir Henry Morton Stanley in 1879.
Matadi was founded by Sir Henry Morton Stanley in 1879. It was strategically important because it was the last navigable port on the Congo River and therefore the furthest inland port in the Congo Free State. The construction of the Matadi–Kinshasa Railway (built between 1890 and 1898) made it possible to transport goods from deeper within Congo's interior to the port of Matadi and the city became an important trading center. Portuguese and French West-African commercial interests influenced the city's architecture and urban design which borrowed from the neighboring colonies in Angola and the Congo-Brazzaville.
Matadi is a commune of the city of Matadi in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Coordinates: 10°59′51″S 26°45′29″E / 10.99750°S 26.75806°E
Don't waste your lips on words I've heard before
Kiss my tired head.
And each letter written wastes your hand, young man
Come and lead me to your bed
You gave me hope that I'd not lost her
And then thought it rather strange to see me smile-
as I don't do too much smiling these days.
She put on happiness like a loose dress
Over pain I'll never know
"So the peace you had," she said,
"I must confess, I'm glad to see it go."
We're two white roses lying frozen just outside his door
I've made you so happy and so sad,
But which should I be more sorry for?
Come kiss my face goodbye,
that space below my eye and above my cheek
Cause I'm faint and fading fast, I see a darkness
And I shall be released.
I'll pass like a fever from this body,
And softly slip into his hands
I tried to love you and I failed,
But I have another plan.
How long, My Lord, how long to sing this song?
And my Lord, how muchmore of this pretending to be strong?
When she stands before your throne
Dressed in beauty not her own
All soft and small, you'll hear her call