When you see a truck delivering 150 bottles of water, each containing 20 litres, to the flat of some farsighted people above us, you know that something’s up. And when the Congolese who can afford it are panic-buying tickets to get out – anywhere will do (though South Africa is the favourite with Belgium a close second) – then you know that something’s in the air. They, the Congolese, earnestly tell us that they KNOW (they’ve been here before) things will get bad.
We, living in our expatriate enclave some distance from the political fray, wonder how much we will be affected. It’s different from being in the middle of things, as many of them are.
Of course, preparations for the worst have been going on for ages. We’ve watched in fascination as, everywhere you look, near and far, boundary walls are being raised, metal fences are being covered in sheet steel, all crowned by coils of razor wire. Some pessimistic owners (including our office) have replaced their five year old razor wire, a relic from the previous election, with new stuff. Buildings in the commercial areas that were open to the street have suddenly become enclosed in prison-like fencing.
Embassies, particularly our own, have been stocking up on emergency rations and water for ages, and last week a small army arrived to reinforce the existing Gurkha contingent. A fleet of small boats, Dunkirk style, has been assembled – brought in, in some cases from distant parts, especially for the event – to provide a possible means of escape to Brazzaville, on the opposite side of the river. As always it is the French who are best prepared, and you know that if French citizens are to be attacked, they will be vigorously defended.
When you meet people, the first question is “going or staying?” If you’re staying you can bask in a sort of we’re not chickens like you, gung-ho glory. Of course, in most cases, the people in question have no choice. Whether embassy, NGO, or private company, many employers are taking out their staff simply to avoid any liability in case things should go wrong. The British embassy decided about six weeks ago that all spouses and children and non-essential staff would be evacuated, though most of the others planned to stick it out. Something must have changed, because the Dutch Embassy suddenly decided on Tuesday that all staff must be out within two days. The Swedes also evacuated all but their three senior staff yesterday. We received a notice from our sponsoring international agency stating that although we were not being evacuated for now, they could issue a stop-work order and evacuate us at any time.
Are we worried? Not at all, but that could be famous last words. She who must be obeyed is to be an election observer: armed with two bottles of water and a large handbag, she’ll be in the nether regions of Kinshasa keeping an eye on things. That could be the most dangerous episode.
We received guidance about stocking up on food and duly went to the shops and bought a whole lot of stuff. The only trouble was that we ate it all so had to go a second time. Old timers say that you must expect to have no electricity or water so baked beans seem like a good bet. Flour and, oddly, cereals are now off the shelves, long-life milk is getting low, but for the rest there’s still plenty. All the same, most international agencies have paid their staff early so that they can stock up early, and we have followed suit.
The President is making his own arrangements. He has promised to leave office peacefully if he looses, but has hedged his bets by installing massive guns around his residence, and the tanks protecting his house are seen out on regular exercises. Many say that him loosing is not on the cards: the rumour (“I know it’s true because I heard it from so-and-so”) is that, for example, three million ballots, already marked up, were discovered in South Africa, about to be airlifted to Kinshasa.
The arrangements for the voting are truly chaotic. Many polling stations will have to operate in the open air, as the tents have not arrived. That means that if it rains they will be unable to operate. Some so-called polling stations do not exist at all, and no one believes that supplies to the remote ones will get there on time.
The funniest feature of the election is that there has been such a demand for Congolese Francs, that they have increased 10% in value against the dollar. Why such demand? To pay the voters, silly.
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