Photoillustration by Barly Baruti
Congolese graphic novelist and musician
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Kinshasa daily Le Potentiel has an op-ed column called Apostrophe. These days, Congolese reporter and columnist Rich Ngapi hosts that column. He recently wrote in that column a three-part series of flash political fiction that gives an insightful glimpse into the psyche of Congolese politicians. This is the first of the three-part series of Rich Ngapi's flash fiction. In order for the reader to grasp the historical and cultural contexts, I give a link to a very brief description of the "Sovereign National Conference." I also give right away the meaning of 3 underlined words and expressions in the order of their appearance in Ngapi's text:
1) Bureau: Congolese slang: Mistress.
2) Kin-La-Belle: "Kinshasa-the-beautiful," moniker of the Congolese capital city.
3) Moral Authority: Congolese political lingo: head of a political party, in this instance, Joseph Kabila.
Original Title: "Oncle Nico (I)"
By Rich Ngapi
Translated from the French by Alex Engwete
Uncle Nico, a well-known old politician in the heyday of the Sovereign National Conference. He’s the uncle of his nephew Tony. The latter, by dint of being around his mother’s brother, has turned into his private secretary of sorts. It’s he, Tony, who keeps all the sensitive dossiers of Uncle Nico, including the most confidential ones. He even manages his numerous “bureaus.” And, Uncle Nico has several of those, in almost every single commune of Kin-La-Belle, just like any other politician who respects himself. At 55 years of age, Uncle Nico has already “manufactured” 55 children. As if to say: one child a year if you begin the chores as early as the year of your birth. However, it’s not his libidinal exploit that’s of interest to us today. It’s rather his political ambitions.
As a possible government reshuffle had just been announced following the installation of the political bureau of the Presidential Majority (PM), Uncle Nico, like all the other ministrable candidates, has gone, in the dead of the night, to meet he who “pulls strings” on behalf of people to the Moral Authority so as to get appointed minister in this future government of the “last chance.”
His nephew told us more on this score: “My uncle ran many other errands for much needed recommendations, and string-pullers. He even had a letter signed by a man of God. He got all the assurances, all the promises of his witch doctor. And ‘Tonton Nico' (as he’s called by those closest to him) started dreaming big. He even daydreamed aloud. He’s already a minister in his head. In family gatherings, we overheard him talk of big villas, of luxury automobiles, of junkets abroad…”
The day of the rendezvous and at the agreed time, Uncle Nico goes to the “consultor” of the PM. Contrary to customary practice, Uncle Nico had to face a wholesome man who thinks himself every inch a democrat and not the least bit demagogue. From the get go, the man shocked Uncle Nico, everlasting but unsuccessful candidate, from the cabinets Gizenga I and II, down to Muzito I, II and soon III. The man was clamoring to the four winds that ministerial posts are “services to be rendered,” that is, sacrifices to be endured, and not recompenses for some previous merit. This brand of inflexibility permeating this new breed of politicos, is a novel lesson for Uncle Nico. He was already disillusioned. For all the stances he’d taken at the Sovereign National Conference, his frenzy of activity in his political party close to the ruling majority, all his life, only aimed at drawing attention to his person. But for entitlements, with no strings attached.
(To be continued)
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