United we stand

The UN is a very important player in the Congo. With more than 26,000 employees in the peace-keeping force alone, and a major presence from all the other major UN agencies such as the World Food Programme, UNICEF and the UN Development Programme, their expenditure on housing and logistical support is truly massive. If they were to leave, it is said, the rents of housing in Kinshasa would halve, and you can be sure that several landlords would fall on their swords. After all, once you’ve got used to making 30% return on you capital, it’s tough to go back into survival mode.

The UN also, of course, employs thousands of lower paid Congolese: the cleaners, drivers, secretaries, junior professionals etc. Pay is good for everyone – as I mentioned a few months ago, the cleaning staff get almost as much in a month as a mid-to-senior level civil servant gets in a year. Without the UN their lives would be very different, and most would be out of work.

So strong is the need to spend, rather than save, money, that they have standardised allowances for staff with absurd results. For example, the wife of an Ambassador, who had been working in the Congo for a year, was offered a job with a UN agency. It was a senior job, and she would be getting a salary even higher than her husband.

But when it came to signing the contract she couldn’t believe her eyes: she would also be paid a $10,000 moving allowance, and $5,000 a month housing allowance.

“But,” she said, being fundamentally honest, “this can’t be right, I am already living here so do not need a moving allowance, and I already have a house so do not need a housing allowance.”

“Madam,” came the reply, “your personal circumstances are of no relevance to us. These are standard allowances and you will be paid them no matter whether you require them or not.”

Of course the various UN agencies, especially the peacekeepers, need transport for materials, food and equipment. They have their own aircraft but they are not adequate for the work. So they must send goods through local carriers.

They approached one of the biggest transport companies asking whether they could send a shipment by river from Kinshasa to Kisangani.

“Yes, of course we can, provided you book the shipment in advance.”

“What is your rate?”

“$48 a ton, or $40 a ton if it is a complete shipload.”

“Agreed,” said the UN man, and that seemed to be that.

A few days later the shipper received the contract. The rate was $65 a ton. He called back to ask what was going on.

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain,” came the reply, “that is the rate that we pay.”

Then the voice is lowered, conspiratorially: the nod and a wink sort of tone. “Between you and me, if we pay you less our commission is reduced proportionately, so we wouldn’t want to do that, would we?”

Not long after, the same company, which operates the largest airline in the Congo, had a similar request for air freight quotations. Even though he was dealing with different people, the negotiations followed exactly the same pattern. They refused to pay the rate quoted (even though, naturally enough, it was quite high in comparison to the rate they charge local firms) and insisted on paying at a higher rate.

So what did our already wealthy (very) entrepreneur do? He turned them down, saying that he refused to do business with dishonest people.

Good for him.

Schizolingua

Everyone knows, particularly the Chinese, that English is the language that sells. Thus, if you buy a door mat in French speaking Congo, it will nevertheless proudly proclaim: WELCOME. And this is precisely how you are greeted at the door of our office.

I’m not sure if people in the Congo object to this linguistic imperialism, especially as it comes with Chinese goods which means that they are cheap. It might even be a status symbol to have an English-speaking door mat. After all, many people probably wish that they had been born in an English speaking country, which would have opened so many more commercial doors. And american films and music are hot!

If they didn’t hate Rwanda so much (as the purported aggressor in the conflicts in the East) they would admire the way that it changed itself overnight, in 2008, from francophone to anglophone. The motives, mind you, were pretty silly: a French judge found that President Kagame, in his then military role, had assassinated the Hutu President – an act that triggered the genocide. This judgement made President Kagame so angry that the announced that Rwanda would no longer use French as its official language[1].

Back to the Congo where there’s certainly great interest in English: two years ago, the Congolese Minister responsible for higher education announced that all universities should be bilingual within five years. Unrealistic though this may have been, it reflected a national desire to escape the dominance of francophonie.

Even the bank notes have the denominations (for example, FIVE HUNDRED FRANCS) written in English as well as French.

But last year, with huge fanfare, the Congo hosted the biennial Francophonie summit, and the Congo was put under great pressure to champion francophonie. Since then the voices asking for more English have become muted, and there may be changes afoot.  

The new bank notes, for example, follow a completely different design, without any English translations. And when we bought a new mat for the front door of the office, (“Welcome” having become shredded with age), the message was clear: BIENVENUE.

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[1] Rwanda has since denied this link. They now claim that it was a commercial decision as their main trading partners are all English speaking.

What's in a name?

A lot apparently. At least Mobutu thought so.

Two years after seizing power, he creating a political party to which all citizens automatically belonged and which had, as its objects, nationalism, revolution and authenticity. The first two were easily implemented: he nationalised the mines and other big companies, and outlawed foreign participation in trade.

Authenticity needed a bit more thought, and it was four more years before he launched his official campaign.

His first act was to rename the country Zaire.

Next he tackled the symbol of westernisation: clothing. This was not a new idea. Mao had done it in China, and there is considerable evidence that Mobutu saw himself as the Mao of Africa – in power terms, even if not in either political or ethical ones. The Zairean version of men’s clothing was a jacket in the form of a close fitting shirt, with pockets on the front, worn outside the trousers. African prints were a popular cloth for them. Once this had been decreed as the national form of dress it was illegal to wear a jacket and tie.

Then came names. We probably shouldn’t be surprised that he rejected his Christian names, Joseph-Desiré – so effeminate! So he ordered everyone to replace their Christian or European names with Zairean ones. Priests were liable to five years in gaol if they were found guilty of baptising people with Christian names. Finally, he decided that everyone should also have a “post-name” after their surname to give them an additional identifier. The post-name was normally supposed to be that of one or more of your ancestors, but it could be the name of a village, a clan or some personal attribute. 

Mobutu had great fun renaming himself. He chose the name to end names: Mobutu Sese Seko Nkuku Ngbendu Wa Za Banga ("The all-powerful warrior who, because of his endurance and inflexible will to win, goes from conquest to conquest, leaving fire in his wake”).

The post-name is the last name but is not the family name, which is the second to last one: thus President Kabila’s name is written Joseph Kabila Kabange. This causes no end of confusion in official documents, and sorting names in alphabetical order etc. But if you ask a Congolese his name, he will first give you his surname (family name) which is actually his middle name, followed by his pre-name. Then, if you ask, he will give you his post-name. Confused?