In Gbadolite, in the tropical forests of northern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), women in bright cotton dresses and high heels saunter along to the sound of soukouss music. But, like the rest of the population, they are still haunted by
the memory of the late Marshal Mobutu Sese Seko.
The little town is now the headquarters of the country’s second-largest rebel group, the Movement for the Liberation of Congo (MLC), led by Jean-Pierre Bemba.
It was also the birthplace of Mobutu, who reigned over what was then called Zaire from 1965 to 1997.
Mobutu, like other African heads of state, tried to transform his village into a metropolis and, miraculously, the hydro-electric dam that he had built on the Ubangui river still works, supplying even modest mud huts with electricity 24 hours a day.
The airport’s runway was built to accommodate large jets, even the supersonic Concorde.
One can still see on the airport tarmac the Russian aircraft Mobutu ordered, with the aim of carrying out lightning counter-offensives, announced with monotonous regularity on evening news, against Rwandan and Ugandan-backed rebels who ousted him in 1997.
In the early 1970s, Gbadolite did not even feature on maps of Zaire. There is not the slightest trace of colonial architecture here, only a handful of multi-storied buildings in concrete and plate glass and a disused Coca-Cola factory, then destined to bring economic development to the region.
The inhabitants of Gbadolite can still drink Coca-Cola, but it has to be imported from the Central African Republic on the other side of the river. A few kilometres outside town, and just a 10-minute walk from the nearest mud hut, lie the ruins of two palaces destroyed by successive attacks, one was a huge Chinese pagoda painted in gaudy colours, intended to house Mobutu’s guests, and the other was
Mobutu’s residence, built of Carrara marble.
Both palaces, along with all the other buildings in town, were financed by Mobutu and his clan after helping themselves from the state coffers for more than three decades. Right next door live the same peasants, who lived there in Mobutu’s days.
While they crouched in the dust, preparing their manioc paste, Mobutu, in his leopard-skin hat could lounge on a huge bed, which at the flick of a switch, could rise up towards the ceiling, surrounded by jacuzzis, fountains and loudspeakers playing his favourite classical music.
The people of Gbadolite who knew Mobutu like to stand amid the debris littering the steps of his residence, mimicking the way he greeted his guests: ”If it was a lady, he would take her by the hand like this and make sure she climbed the steps in front of him, so he could get a good look at her.”
The Ngbandi, the main tribe in Gbadolite and the one Mobutu belonged to, explain that traditionally in their culture, the chief is someone who hands out money and presents, and this explains why Mobutu is still revered by many of the town’s inhabitants.
The population never resented the way the late president indulged in every whim at the expense of the state, simply because he handed out a small portion of it to the people of his village.
”Ah! those were the days,” 40-year-old Pierre remembers wistfully.
But other inhabitants of the town note that Mobutu finally paid for his years of dictatorial rule by being buried like a dog, far from home in exile in Morocco, while they are able still to respect local customs and give their dead a dignified burial in front of the family hut.
Mobutu, whose 32-year kleptocratic rule left a country with vast mineral resources on its knees, died in exile in Morocco in 1997, shortly after being toppled by rebel leader Laurent Kabila, father of the current president. – Sapa-AFP