A Rake's Progress

Once upon a time there was a young man who lived in the East of the Congo. His parents were humble people, quite happy to live as they and their parents always had, getting by with their little plots of cassava, maize and bananas. To him this was a dead-end form of existence. He wanted adventure, so when someone came to his village looking for recruits for a rebel army, he joined up in a flash. The word army suggests something different from the life he was to lead for the next few years. Though it started with a rigorous training camp where they were fed very little and intimidated a lot they were, in fact, brigands. They were part of a ruthless machine which killed, raped and pillaged. They didn’t get paid: their only sustenance was whatever they could steal from the villages which were victims of their attention.

It was not clear what they were fighting for, or who they were fighting. But occasionally they would encounter another rebel army and skirmishes would ensue. Some got killed, but that was only to be expected.

After a while things took a turn for the worse. The national army was trying to round up all the rebels, and some bitter battles were fought. But in truth, neither side was winning, so the national army made an offer: anyone who surrenders will be entitled to join the real army and become a proper soldier.

By this time, life on the run had lost its glamour, so our hero decided to join most of his mates and take up the army’s offer.

For the national army, this influx of recruits who had little training and a lot of bad attitude, was a very mixed blessing. With UN support, they decided that since integration was not suitable for everyone, they should offer skills training to help the youngsters find a niche in civilian life.

When he was asked what training he wanted he replied without hesitation: “I want to be a pastor.” No problem. He was sent to an evangelical bible collage, and before you can say Jack Robinson was let loose in the world as a pastor.

Like many countries where people are poor and life in unfair, religion is big in the Congo. Evangelical and charismatic Christianity are making major inroads in what used to be a staunchly Catholic society. So our friend did not need to find a slot in someone else’s church: he started his own.

Why did he want to become a pastor? – because of the Sunday collections, of course. If you’ve got a bit of the demagogue about you, after a fiery sermon people are only too happy to put money in the plate to ensure a safe passage to heaven. And if someone in the family has a nasty accident, or gets very ill, they believe it when their pastor says: “That was because you were not offering enough to God. He is punishing you for being stingy. Open your heart and your purse and you shall be blessed.”

And so it was that our hero became rich. Rich enough to decide to stand for parliament, and that means seriously rich. You’ve got to spend a huge amount on advertising and you’ve got to travel the length and breadth of your constituency. Most importantly, you must get yourself known. And how do you do that? By giving everybody who attends your meetings something to remember you by: typically a bag of sugar and a bag of salt.

And once he is elected, as he expects to be? His career path is clear. Although he’s standing as an independent, he will enthusiastically support any ruling coalition. So his next task will be to buy influence with his seniors: another very expensive activity. But he knows he’ll reach the ultimate prize – as a member of the Cabinet.

Meanwhile, what happens to his congregation? He’s not going to abandon them. After all, where would he be in politics without them?