Social circles in Kinshasa have a strange feeling of
unreality – at least the ones that we belong to. There’s such a sense of
passing through, that no one has any real connection to the town they’re living
in. Talk is more about how one is managing, how long we are there, and how long
we will be staying. There are two distinct groups: the diplomats, who drive
around in cars with special number plates and exude an air of casual
superiority. And there are the aid workers.
Both sides have their pecking order. For the diplomats,
Belgium is (or used to be – now it is in the dog house because it imposed
sanctions on Kabila and his cronies) up at the top because of its historical
connections. Alongside Belgium there are the obvious ones, the Unites States,
Britain and Germany, the big aid-givers who have large staff and are deeply
involved. There are so many staff in these embassies that they tend to hand
together but occasionally you meet them. Lower in the pecking order are,
obviously, India, Greece, Turkey, Brazil and the multiple UN agencies. They’re
much more approachable and you bump into them quite often. Indeed, we were at
lunch one day (see earlier episode) with the ambassadors of India, Brazil and
Switzerland.
And then there are the real – as they would see it – aid workers, the Red
Cross, Save the Children, CARE, Oxfam and, of course, Médecins sans Frontières. They have the
uniform of the egalitarian: jeans and t-shirts; beards on the men and long
lanky hair on the women. Sandals are the footwear of choice. They have a weary
reluctance to talk about their work, like soldiers coming from a terrible
battle. What they will talk about is trips they’ve made which we weakling
mortals would find dangerous or simply too difficult, like going up the river
to Kisangani in a local boat, a two week epic of chaos and vibrant life; taking
the train to the port of Matadi, or exploring ancient religious sites near
Kinshasa. But once in Kinshasa, they are going to have fun. They keep the
nightclubs going and are happy to burn the candle at both ends while they can.
But I’ve forgotten to mention the old-timers. There’s a
small band of people who came in the days of Mobutu and who have never left.
They’ve been through the terrible and dangerous times of the pillages, when the
troops, and later the ordinary people, took it upon themselves to steal
everything. With Mobutu’s connivance they ruined every single factory and
expatriate home, not just stealing but also smashing everything that couldn’t
be removed. This happened not once but twice and the tales of terror that
people experienced are truly chilling. But they stayed, and now they are reaping
the rewards. Kinshasa is back to working more or less like a normal city, and
the economy still needs supplies. So, for those with the ability to manage the
system (read bribe the right people for survival) the pickings are rich. Their stories are fascinating, but what is
most striking is that they don’t see anything particularly unusual, let alone
heroic, in their experiences.
It’s only their nouveau-riche talk that sometimes gets
nauseating. Private jets, apartments in Paris and New York, children at Swiss
schools, etc etc. But, to be fair, most still see themselves as ordinary, and
don’t use their wealth as a social tool.
But money creates enmity, and from time to time the
Government (read President) decides to take down someone. The speed at which
this can be done is terrifying. Banks are closed at a day’s notice; assets are
frozen, people are jailed. A process that could take years in most countries is
achieved in days. This was a trick that (now ex-president) Kabila learned from
Mobutu.
The most feared people are the tax collectors. They have
sweeping powers, and they are not afraid of using them. Neither side has any
illusion about the game that they play. It is to intimidate the tax payer by
cooking up a massive demand, and then inviting a compromise that will include a
relatively small sum paid to the tax office and a relatively large one paid to
the tax collector him- or herself. To avoid regular confrontations, businesses
typically cultivate a symbiotic relationship with the tax collectors in which
the bribe and official components are matters of routine that do not need to be
negotiated.
This puts businesses that are under international scrutiny,
and cannot pay bribes, in a bind. The tax collectors see this intransigence as
a front to avoid paying anything, so the tax bill is inflated by way of
revenge. If they don’t pay, their bank accounts can be frozen at the stroke of
a pen. That happens: the managing director of a new mine near Lubumbashi told
me that the tax collector had produced a tax demand based on the amount of his
investment, not profit. Obviously, since there had been no income there was no
tax to pay, but the tax collector was adamant and closed the bank account
without any notice, because he couldn’t (or didn’t want to) understand that the
mine was still in the development phase and had not started production. The
mine was forced to close down until the situation could be resolved. His case
was the worst I have heard.
Back to happier things. Yes Kinshasa is an island in which we
are forced by circumstances to meet many people that we would not normally
expect to call friends. And yes, it is both interesting and, at times, fun.
