Waiting for??

We had been confined to barracks for four days and NOTHING had happened. For those staff who had been moved to extremely uncomfortable accommodation in the Embassy, the situation was much worse. They were hungry and bored. The young ones (= anyone under 35) decided they were going to go out in the evening, like it or not, and in the face of this mini-revolt the somewhat sheepish security personnel allowed them to go – “but be careful! If anything goes wrong it’s on your shoulders.”

Indeed, as time passed, even the security types were getting bored, or losing confidence, and the next morning, Friday, our routine warning messages were expressed in milder terms. A friend reported that she had dared to go to the Golf Club for a game of tennis, and everything seemed normal, so we decided to join her there for lunch.

It is in the centre of town, reached by the main boulevard which is typically the scene of must hot action. What a let down. We were expecting to have to negotiate road blocks manned by menacing soldiers, the streets to be empty and shops closed. Far from it. Everything was normal. After a leisurely, and not alcohol-free, lunch we went to the shops to buy a few things, and then to an ice cream parlour for a delicious lemon sorbet. “You’ve got to be back by four,” was the instruction, as the results were going to be announced at six, and crowds would start gathering.

But at six they said that the results would be published at 8, then at 8 they said it would be 10, and then at 10 they told us it had all been postponed until tomorrow.

Cabin fever got worse the next morning, made much worse by the fact that no one knew what was going on. Why had the results been postponed? What manipulation was going on? All our sources had the same message: we simply don’t know.

Tempers were getting short, and the situation was exacerbated by worrying portents. One of our neighbours, who is diabetic, had collapsed in a coma, fallen over and gashed his head and had had to be taken to hospital in a state of bloody delirium. Our internet connection had suddenly completely failed and no one was on duty to advise us what to do about it. International SMSs were now also being blocked as well as local ones.

Staying indoors is not much fun, even if you’re prepared for it, so we decided to go into town again. This time everything was closed, with the exception of a new coffee shop which we had found the day before and which had promised to stay open. We were the only customers but there was a full staff to serve us.

Soon after we got home we turned on the TV, and, believe it or not the Government station was preparing for the announcement of the results. After agonisingly slow preparations and agonisingly long pompous speeches about how the law had been followed and the results were free and fair, CDs containing the results of every single one of the 60,000 polling stations were conspicuously given to the Ambassadors present. The ground thus having been laid, the results were read out, province by province. There were no surprises: Kabila had won by a substantial majority.

When the show was over we went outside to tell our security guards. They had already heard, and were not feeling so jolly. They said it meant five more years of poverty, of being a university graduate and having no job, and not being listened to. How, we asked, will the news be greeted where you live? “Not good”, they said, “there are many angry young men. They will cause trouble.”