47. Zaire: Lubumbashi - Kalemie

Lubumbashi was Elizabethville during Colonial times and the scene of a lot of the diplomacy and military movement during the war of Katangan Secession.  This was in turn was an early and major Cold War battlefield. The UN Secretary General Dag Hammarsjold died in an airplane crash in Katanga, variously blamed on the CIA or KGB.

Dag Hammarskjold at the Elizabethville airport.  Photo - Ian Berry, 1960

Swedish soldiers, first UN soldiers on the ground at the Elizabethville airport,  Photo - Ian Berry, 1960

In retrospect we came along only 20 years later.

In this post we have some fairly strong commentary about the state of things as we found them 30 years ago.  We debated about leaving them in, but at other times it seems like we only describe our travel and not what we see.  By now we had been traveling for 7 months in Africa and were beginning to recognize patterns. If you find them offensive or disagree with them in any way please leave a comment at the end.  If you are from the area, or have visited more recently, and these observations no longer apply we would also appreciate your comments.

The criticisms of Mobutu would have been unthinkable to publish at that time and for many years afterwards, as it could have gotten our contacts thrown out of Zaire.  Mobutu is now long gone, but he had complete control for a long time.

Lamentably we do not have any photographs of Lubumbashi.  This was of course pre-digital age and we must have been worried that our slide film, which we had carried all the way from the US would run out before the end of the trip… 

In the last post we had just arrived from Kolwezi on the bus…

Souther portion of the trip.

Lubumbashi, Zaire, Saturday, 30 April, 1983

We were inspecting our packs with disgust (those nice, freshly washed packs had shared the luggage compartment with some wet fish) when a young wazungu (white) woman walked up and asked if we were the Robisons. Quite a surprise since we were fully expect­ing to pull on our packs and hike, following Mr. French’s map to the house where we were to stay.

She is Linda Tanquist, a former Peace Corps volunteer who has taught here for five years (in Mulungwishi).  She took us to have lunch at the home of Louise Werner, a Swiss missionary who worked many years in Algeria. After she was thrown out of Algeria she came to Zaire where she has been for eleven years. She works as Bishop Katembo’s secretary.

Linda drove us over to Woodcocks’ house via the Hoovers’ house. While we were stopped there, Ellen Hoover invited us for supper. Woodcocks are on vacation in South Africa, so we have the house to ourselves until Frenches arrive on Monday. Mr. Woodcock is an older pilot, and they are the senior missionaries, having been here since 1946. 

Hoovers are both history professors at the University of Lubumbashi. Ellen did her doctoral dissertation on some aspect of Moroccan history, and Jeff did his on the Lunda tribe up around Kapanga, Zaire. We did not get to ask them much about themselves because there were two other guests there. Both are pilots --Tom Frazier (son of Hugh and Eliza­beth whom we met at Kapanga) works out of Kananga on contract for the U. Methodists, and Mike ____ who works in Kenya. His situation is complicated because he landed here in Lubumbashi the other night without permission. His passport was confiscated and has not been returned. He came bringing an Anglican evangelism team from East Africa. That is a mess, too, because no one was prepared for their arrival. Anyway, this Mike is quite a character, typical of what you would expect a mission bush pilot to be.

Lubumbashi, Zaire, Sunday, May 1, 1983

(DAN) Linda invited us to go with her to church out at the University, but at 0930 Geoff Hoover drove up. He said to hop in, that a lot of things had changed since the night before, and we were to go with him. One of the visiting evangelists had been scheduled to speak at the university, but early this morning, it was found that the vice president of the ECZ (Eglises de Christ au Zaire) decided that HE wanted to speak at the U. I guess that Linda was out finding another place for the evangelist.

The ECZ is one of the results of Mobutu’s “Africanization push” (along with no neckties and calling all Zairois “Citoyene.”) He ordered that all the Protestant churches merge or get out. This vice president is also the head of University Chaplains….

He began by saying, “I am sorry that I cannot come here more often. Students in Kisangani, Bukavu, and Kananga are always pleading for me to visit, but I just have too many responsibilities.” His sermon was more or less about accepting one’s lot in life knowing that the Lord is always with you. In one of his prayers he made direct reference to the idea that “one must obey all those in authority because they would not be there if God did not put them there.” You realize that since the sermon was in French, we were able to understand it for the first time in a few moons. His sermon did not get the reaction a similar one could have provoked in a Latin American University[1].   

After the service Geoff drove us around the campus. In general it is a pretty bleak place. All of the buildings are newer than twenty years old but are in a sad shape.  90 % of the windows are broken, only a few rooms in the administration building have lights; all the other installations, fixtures, wires, etc., have been stolen. A few weeks ago the roof was stolen off one of the buildings, and there are no moves to replace it. There is a huge modern, blackening shell that is supposed to house the library. USAID has provided the money four different times, but each time the funds have walked off. The joke going around is that it will never be finished because there are no more corners for cornerstones. There is a cafeteria that took nine years to build, but once it was completed, there were no funds to operate it -- and on and on. The campus is located well outside of town, and from certain angles one can imagine what the place might have been.  Now the grass is ten feet high throughout. It is infinitely despairing to see this as the “future of Zaire”.

On the way back into town, we passed a tall building of modern design that was built as the university hospital. However, during Katangese secession days, it housed the United Nations Command, and there are still many large bullet holes, evident even from the road. These date back to strafing by the Katangese air force. The building now houses the administration of the university. The upper two floors were once the girls’dormitory, but they got tired of having no water, so now the two top floors are empty.

As in Nigeria there is much talk and money ALLOCATED to education and universities, but it does not seem to trickle down. And then you have a smug old man in a choir robe, clerical collar and white ribbon tie preaching to you to bow down to those in authority. Let them rob you, deprive you of an adequate education because they are there only because God lets them. I am beginning to understand the reason why when the shooting starts here in this part of Africa, there seems to be incredible indiscriminate killing. Frustrations must build up to an unbearable level.

Lubumbashi, in many ways, feels like a big Kolwezi that has not been through a recent war. There is the old European sector with the western buildings, false-front stores downtown, beautiful houses, and flamboyant trees arching over the street.  There is the same sad­ness. Many of the stores are closed; those that are open are usually 3/4 empty. Behind the cash register is either a Belgian or Greek or Portuguese in the stores that are pros­pering. There was a time when all businesses had to be owned by Zairois (Mobutu’s Afri­canization). Geoff Hoover said that it only ruined what honest Zairois merchants existed, and now the only ones who survive are the ones who can manipulate through cor­ruption and those who have access to hard currency (i.e. Greek or other European). That does not explain for example why all the butchers in Kolwezi are Greek. Mr. French says that if the butchers were Zairois, the Commissaire would not pay, the colonel and the captain would not pay, no government employees would pay, their cousins or local chief would not pay. Anybody who is in AUTHORITY.

We have discussed this a lot with Mr. French, and he feels that it is tied to tri­balism and in some ways to witchcraft. He says that it has not been long since chiefs had the power of life and death over all of their subjects (as does Mobutu and holders of his authority). On the subject of witchcraft he says that it appears even in the church. People are reluctant to speak out against abuse and corruption because of “what might happen”. Mr. Wolford did his doctorate on the strength of witchcraft in such dealings.

In the afternoon Geoff came by with their little two-year-old daughter, and we went swimming at the Gecamines Club --painted parking spaces, manicured lawns, tennis courts, olympic-sized swimming pool, waiters in white coats, etc., etc. 30 % of the people en­joying these comforts were White and 70 % Black. Geoff agreed we were a long way from Chitazu. We had a long talk with him in the pool. Among the more intellectual subjects we found that Mobutu is thought to be the “natural son” (illegitimate) of a Senegalese soldier and an army concubine. (Ed: I think he really means “prostitute”). Some daily evidences are that there is never any mention of his father though many streets and half the hospitals are named after his mother (the other half named for his wife).  Also, all of his famous relatives (Ndugus, Swahili) are on his mother’s side. Geoff says that King Leopold brought in Senegalese soldiers because he needed forces from outside that could speak French. All of this came about because he mentioned that the descendants of the Senegalese soldiers are the ones who control the diamond smuggling rackets up in Kasai.

Helena and I had quiet meals at “home”, our first meals by ourselves in a long time. We wrote and read through the evening.

Lubumbashi, Zaire, Monday 2 May, 1983

(HELENA) These two mornings by ourselves we have enjoyed having “our kind” of café con leche (made with hot milk) with the croissants Linda Tanquist gave us. After break­fast we set out to look for the USA consulate, to see where the Tanzanian and Zambian consulates are, and to find out what travel advisories have been put out for different countries. All we discovered was that there is no Tanzanian consulate here.  Dan thought the receptionist looked a lot like the Mwante Yaav whom we met up at Musumba, and we noticed her name was Jane Tchombe. Sure enough, we later asked the consular com­munications officer, and he confirmed that she is the daughter of the new great chief.

She had us talk to the consul, a young man with carefully casual hair, khaki pants, and a plaid shirt. Personally, I think that persons like him should make it their business to have the latest as to where different countries have representations. He actually was very nice, but did not have the information we needed.

We went from there to the Zambian consulate...Closed because of Labor Day.

Before heading back to the Woodcocks’ home, we stopped in at the Air Zaire office to inquire about flights to Goma, Zaire, up on Lake Kivu. They are not flying there because of scarcity of fuel, so it looks as though we shall try flying to Kalemie (halfway up the Zairois side of Lake Tanganyika) day after tomorrow. I hate to leave so soon, but it may be our best chance.

We were expecting the Frenches on the bus, but they got in 2 1/2 hours late. I gather that we hit it lucky on Saturday because things were way off schedule today, AND, the employees did not even turn out in their snazzy uniforms. Linda came by several times to see if they had arrived, but she was not able to pick them up because she ran around all day with the pilot from Kenya trying to locate his confiscated passport. That had failed, so she then tried to get him a new one. He was not pleased with the way things work in Zaire.

It was good to see Frenches again. Marietta Pritchard came to pick all of us up, and we had dinner at her apartment together with Fred, her soon-to-be-husband who works as the USA consulate communications officer.

Lubumbashi, Zaire, Tuesday, May 3, 1983

(DAN) I spent the morning running around to several offices inquiring about planes flying to Goma. One place, an air company owned by Mobutu’s cousin, only flies to Goma from Kinshasa. Another freight company said they would fly when they have a load. I went back and conferred with Helena, and we decided tomorrow’s flight to Kalemie would be our best bet. It is a port on Lake Tanganyika with a freighter service to Kigoma, Tanzania, and Bujumbura, Burundi. Aside from assuaging Helena’s perpetual thirst for wa­ter travel, it would leave more options open than going south into Zambia.

I went into the Zambian consulate to see about visas and was infinitely unimpressed with the personnel. There were about 25 people crowded at the counter (all African) but the three clerks were only paying attention to those who signaled they were willing to go behind closed doors. After about 30 minutes I finally caught one man’s eye. He had me come back and around, etc. Now people here in Lubumbashi go back and forth to Zambia all the time. The Hoovers even have a Zambian mail box so that they can re­ceive Time. We knew that the visas at the most took overnight to get. Well, this man sighed sympathetically and said, “You have to come in one month ahead of time.”  I told him that one month ago was a Sunday and walked out. We shall have to get a Zambian visa in Dar es Salaam.

So I returned to Air Zaire just before noon and bought two tickets to Kalemie. The corruption in Zaire has finally gotten to us; we are going to cheat and fly when we do not absolutely have to fly. There is roughly $ 3.50 difference between going by air and going by train second class, and it would take at least 4 days. This will give us an extra week to get out of Zaire. Right NOW our favored route is to go by road from Bujumbura to Kigali, Rwanda (we already have the visa), up into Uganda to have a gander, then across Lake Victoria to Tanzania. We have a contact in Moshi, Tanzania for climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. Now one thing is that this trip has not made us less superstitious, and we hesi­tate to discuss such grandiose plans. It is better as a fait accompli. Anyway, from there we would go to Dar es Salaam, then to Zambia, Zimbabwe, and South Africa. We are al­most home.

Helena spent much of the day, properly, washing clothes. In the evening we went out to supper to celebrate Mrs. French’s birthday, our departure, and the brand new Chevette that Mr. French has picked. Gasoline is too scarce and expensive to use Miss Ruth for the many trips to the airport and around town in Kolwezi. We had an excellent meal of chicken cooked in palm oil and manioc leaves. It was a fancy place with table cloth and waiter, a first for this trip. Since we are still dealing in Zaires, it was on us.

After that we were invited to visit Linda Tanquist for Helena to play her guitar. She is stay­ing at Ridgeways’ house while they are on vacation.  Here developed one of our trip’s great­est coincidences. We were looking at the Ridgeway pictures on the wall, and there was a picture of the Farahs. Now, in the few minutes I talked with Stan we could not think of any mutual acquaintances, and then to find a picture of my own brother-in-law on the wall. The French term for brother-in-law slays me--beau frere (beautiful brother).

I believe I neglected to mention that our flight is scheduled at 0630. The ticket agent recommended that we be at the airport at 4:30. Fortunately we have the new Chevette (Baby Blue). One problem is that Mr. French has to keep it around the corner at the Ridgeways’, and we may wake some people up. Linda lent us the gate key, so we should be able to get in and out without too much commotion.

Our travels in Southern Zaire.  Orange - rail, yellow - road, pink - air, green - lake steamer.

 

Lubumbashi -Kalemie, Zaire, Wednesday, 4 May, 1983

(HELENA)  The only alarm clock we had was one of those delicate affairs attached to a calcula­tor, so it was fortunate that we awakened even before it went off at 4:00. We were ready by 4:20, so Mr. French and Dan went over to get the car. Mrs. French and I stayed at the house and chatted a bit. Then we chatted a bit more, and a bit more. It finally extended to half an hour, and I went around the corner to see what was happening. I peeked through the gate and could not see anyone so I finally decided they must be in­side getting the key to Linda’s car. We then proceeded to wait another 20 minutes. I was getting resigned to missing the flight when Dan ran up to the house to ask Mrs. French to brave the dog over at the Ridgeways’ and ask Linda if we could borrow her car. It turns out that the new Chevette had started at the first try and then died, so they pushed it to try and start it again and the motor flooded. Dan pushed, and pushed, and pushed some more. They kept thinking that it would start, but since it never did, it is fortunate that the hill ran out right in front of a Gecamines guard house --only ten blocks away.  Ten LONG blocks, Dan wants me to add, because he proceeded to run back home (getting lost for a bit) while Mr. French walked more slowly.  (He has had open heart surgery.)

So here it was 5:30, and we had had to get Linda out of bed. To top it off the key fell off of the ring, and we had to search for it with a f1ashlight. It was with a huge sigh of relief that we finally set off toward the airport. On the way out of town we were stopped by a military road block. They were just starting to ask us to get out our luggage so they could search it when Mr. French said we were missionaries. They let us go good naturedly, and we arrived at the airport at 5:50 --only an hour and 20 minutes later than planned.

As we drove up, Mr. French warned Dan to hop right out because there would be several men there ready to snatch our bags and carry them inside before we would be able to let out a “no”.  He had to get down on the run.

The Air Zaire employees processed us without complaint, we went on in to the inner waiting room, and the Boeing 737 left only 10 minutes late. Our luck has to run out one of these days! They had us all sit at the front of the plane, leaving 2/3 of the plane completely empty. The plane (at least the interior) was not a model of upkeep, but we forgave that when they brought us coffee and two rolls with cheese.

We felt rather dimwitted when we realized we had sat down on the sunny side of the plane and would not be able to see very well. Later, however, we felt vindicated when only our side saw Lakes Mweru and Tanganyika go by.  The Kalemie aerodrome is right on the shore, so it was a beautiful approach. There are small hills close by and mountains in the distance across the lake. (The flight was one hour all told.)

It should have been a very simple disembarkation because only a few of us stayed here in Kalemie (pronounced as Ka-le-mee, accent on the last syllable), but first they had to load baggage, a big group of soldiers had to escort one chef onto the plane, the rest of the passengers got on, and FINALLY they brought our baggage over. In the meantime we had had to present our passports and WHO (health) cards, and we had been offered a pricey taxi ride into town.

But let me sidetrack a bit to tell you the latest on our WHO cards. When we arrived in Kinshasa clear back in March, we noticed that the 6-month validity of our cholera shots had expired. The man who checked that before we got onto the boat actually counted the months, but for some reason he let us on through. Once we had gotten to Kolwezi, we thought maybe Mrs. French could help us, but she said that the shots were not available in Kolwezi, and we would just have to get a false stamp. Naturally, we put it off, but now we thank our stars that on the very last day in Kolwezi, Mr. French and Dan took the time to visit Frenches’ friend to get the card stamped. Apparently he stamped the cholera section with a stamp that said “Zairois Health Department”. Then he pushed the card back toward them and said, “Now all you need is the date and signature.” They just left it on the desk, and finally he reached over and put the date and signature on the card. Well, today the official inspected the card very carefully, counted the months, and reluctantly saw that all was in order.

You can tell, we are getting travel-hardened because Dan saw a pickup getting ready to leave the airport and without a qualm asked if he could give us a ride into town (9 kms). There were houses all along the shore making it seem like a long town. They let us out downtown, I settled down with the packs, and Dan went off to find out about the boat trip.

Instead of leaving this afternoon as we had read in “Geoff”, the ferry will not leave until Monday the 9^th. Dan had to reserve third class tickets for us (out on the deck) because both first and second are full. Should be interesting, but at least it is only supposed to take 2 nights and a day. Dan then went in search of a Roman Catholic mission where we might pitch a tent. He talked to the secretary at a R. Catholic school who said she was going over to the priests’ and she would ask there. She came by on her moped and told us that the Italian priest had granted us permission. We walked back to the big church we had seen on the way into town, and after a bit of asking around were shown a patch of grass to the side of a huge, aging three-storied monastery. Soeur Claude gave us the key to a bare room at the end of the ground floor and the key to a W. C.

At first this seemed like a private place since it is at the top of a hill, with only a footpath going by. That is just it; quite a few people did go by and would greet us and gaze intently at us and at our tent. When school let out at 17:00, the little boys started crowding around; some of them even made fun of us. As Dan says, it is all to get attention, but it is hard to view it objectively when there are 30 to 50 kids staring at you at close range.

We got out our trusty gas burner and had a good cup of café con leche. We were in bed at 19:30 since we got up at 4:00 and there are no lights.

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[1] At that time in South America, there is little doubt such a speech would have started a riot just about on any campus.