Seven days in Briberia
It was Glenroy’s second time in Africa. His first trip had taken him to a geological survey site in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Unfortunately it happened to be the period when Joseph Kabila, the pit-bull of the Congo, was consolidating his tenure extension plans. Glenroy could not understand why Africans would be treating […]
It was Glenroy’s second time in Africa. His first trip had taken him to a geological survey site in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Unfortunately it happened to be the period when Joseph Kabila, the pit-bull of the Congo, was consolidating his tenure extension plans. Glenroy could not understand why Africans would be treating their own people like scum just because they want to retain power.
Then, he made the mistake many of his type from the West make when they come to Africa: while hanging out with colleagues at a bar, he spoke against the naked injustice he was seeing and said it was time African leaders realised that power was for developing society, not depopulating it. He was scandalised that despite being Africa’s biggest copper producer and the world’s leading source of cobalt, only about 6% of the estimated $10 billion realised from mining is captured in the national budget. In effect, about 94% of Congo’s wealth ended up in private pockets.
He couldn’t understand how the President’s family could be worth between $100 – 200 million while half the population survives on less than one dollar a day.
As he showed up for his scheduled meeting with his partners and some government officials the following day, he was shown the door. It was over. The visitor had crossed the red line by casting aspersions on the rulership of His Excellency, Joseph Kabila.
Glenroy remembered Idi Amin’s infamous reaction when the Western media alleged that there was no freedom of speech in Uganda despite the guarantee of same by the United Nations. Amin had reportedly replied: “There is freedom in Uganda. Freedom before speech I can guarantee, but freedom after speech will depend on what you say”.
Having learnt his lesson the hard way, Glenroy decided that he would keep his views about the inner workings of African states to himself in future. So, when the opportunity to visit Briberia Republic came, he was prepared. He had heard so much about the country. Gregarious, friendly people. Breath-taking landscapes. More riches in the belly of the earth than the rest of the continent put together. This was where he should have been born, not hypocritical America where he was often judged by the colour of his skin.
“Ah, you will be here for seven days?”, beamed the Immigration official at Briberia’s International Airport which had been under construction for two decades. “Hmm… I don’t want to delay important visitors like you. Just drop something for the boys. You know, we’ve been on duty since yesterday. I am not forcing you, do you understand? A reasonable man like you will not mind …”
He parted with $50.
There were hundreds of people milling around the carousel. He had been warned to watch out for his luggage and not entertain any ‘helpers’. When his luggage came, he had to wrestle it from the grip of a uniformed tout who insisted that it was his duty to ‘help’ arriving passengers.
As he made his way towards the exit a Customs officer accosted him.
“Hey, step aside for a search”, said the Customs man.
“I have nothing to declare”, replied Glenroy.
“It doesn’t matter, just step aside”.
Like a pack of hyenas, four other Customs men joined the man searching through Glenroy’s suitcase. “Ah, you have six new shirts. Are you selling them? And the camera and laptop, where are the receipts? Hey, three pairs of shoes and three jackets! Are you a showman?” Eventually, one of them announced the deal: Since he did not have receipts for many of the items, they would overlook the mistake so as not to delay him further.
$100 poorer at the end of the drama, he finally heaved a sigh of relief as he made for the restroom. There were three uniformed cleaners in the male toilet – one holding the toilet roll, another clutching the liquid soap and yet another manning the tap. The stench was nerve-jangling.
“Can I have some privacy, please”, he demanded. He could have been addressing the wall. The boys did not flinch. As soon as he left the urinal, the cleaner at the tap turned on water and the one holding the liquid soap dispensed some on his hands while their colleague with the toilet roll gave him some to clean his hands. “More blessing, sir!”, they chorussed. He was a quick learner. He brought out a $5 note and told them to share.
For the next six days, Glenroy met some of the most gifted human beings he had ever encountered in his life. All his meetings went well, if you discountenance the several times his host had to settle policemen at checkpoints who wanted to see Glenroy’s birth certificate after seeing that all the car’s particulars were in order. And the epileptic power supply. Or the horde of beggars on the streets. Or the street urchins who picked his pocket as he was negotiating to buy some carvings. Or the daily reports of killings in many parts of the country….
On the seventh day as he prepared to go to the airport for his homeward journey, he had made up his mind: “This may not be El Dorado, but there’s some vibrancy about this bribe-guzzling space that fascinates me. I shall be back”.
I intend to invite Glenroy to my country one of these days. Who knows, he may like it here too.