Having an official election observer in the family, we can give an authentic view of what happened in some polling stations. The day before voting starts she is given her official card and an embassy tee shirt to proclaim her role. Armed with two bottles of water, numerous nibbles for sustenance and a large handbag as a weapon, she and her team-mate are driven at 5 a.m. to the first of the polling stations, where the embassy driver will vote.
The first thing they notice is that all the electoral banners and posters, which had until yesterday covered the town from top to toe, have gone. Every one. No one seems to know whose job is was to remove them, but they have been strikingly efficient.
The polling station opens fifteen minutes late, but this creates no problems. In any case there aren’t huge crowds waiting. The station is, like most others, a school, and voters are divided up alphabetically, so that everyone between A and C goes to classroom 1, D and F to classroom 2, etc. The names are on lists stuck onto the wall, so that voters can also check whether they are, in fact, registered to vote at this location. It works well. The staff are courteous, the voting is not as slow as feared, and the queues move smoothly. One of the interesting things was that the format of the voting papers had been changed. Even though all the candidates had been told that the voting papers would be up to 50 pages long, and posters all provided the page number as well as the candidate number, in fact the voting papers were only about 25 pages, printed on tabloid-sized paper. Voters were being told to fold their papers in such a way that their vote was on the outside. Much more sensible.
The driver having voted, they go to another polling station, and a third. Then they try a totally different area, subconsciously hoping to find something a bit more news-worthy than a well-run election. The only untoward thing is that one woman is seen at two stations. Was she voting twice? One can’t be sure.
They meet some official EU observers: very seriously following the 30 page instruction manual that they have been given. And there are party observers too, but since they don’t carry any official badge it’s hard to be sure who is who.
At midday, they decide to have a break, returning in the late afternoon to observe how the closure of the voting stations – supposed to be at 5 p.m. (before nightfall) – is being handled. This typically creates problems if people are shut out before they have voted.
The scene now is totally different. The first school they went to is now the scene of riots. They are told that a large black jeep, without number plates and with darkly tinted windows, had driven into the compound. Armed men (dressed, of course, in black) had then stuffed the ballot boxes with voting papers, and left. You can believe that if you like – but certainly the crowd did, and they were baying for blood. They, in turn, had raided the station and grabbed voting papers which they then tore up and stamped in the mud. There were riot police everywhere, and although fighting seemed to have subsided, it was very tense.
It was at that time that our intrepid election observers heard the rumourville news about the bodyguards of Tshisekedi – Kabila’s main opposition. The story was that when he had arrived at the airport on Saturday for his final rally, his bodyguards had been “arrested”. Today, Monday, their bodies had just been found. Tshisekedi’s followers, who are in the majority in Kinshasa, are likely to get very angry when they find out.
They go to another polling station. This is set in a huge playground which is full of people. They are not queueing, just hanging around. As soon as the Embassy car arrives there is surge of young men, who pack around the car, shouting angrily. The driver opens his window to ask them what is going on. Their issue is simple. The elections are corrupt. They feel helpless, but know that these white people can sort it out. They demand action.
They may have meant well, but clearly this was a situation that was best avoided. Gradually, inch by inch, the driver eases out of the compound and they get away. They try one last station, where they meet another EU observer. She says that the station is just about to close. The rule is that once the doors are closed no one can leave until counting has finished, so they decide to leave the matter in her capable hands and get out before it is too late.
As they drive back they receive a text message on their phones from the Electoral Commission which has accredited them. Voting hours have been extended, and in the case of polling stations that opened late or not at all there will be a second day of voting.
That evening we channel-skip the international news channels, trying to find out what has been happening in our own backyard. The Egyptian elections receive far more coverage, but the DRC gets a small share with pictures of bloody riots, tear gas, anger and confusion. Is it the full story? – of course not, but then it never is.
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