Chapter Four
In order to clarify the title of this memoir, before I proceed to a narrative of the Batakoudou years (1960-85), I must make another diversion [detour], this time to chart the movement in world copper prices, as they have impacted my life’s story. During my early years, after the disruption of markets occasioned by World War Two, the post-war industrial recovery in the rich world meant that the profits of producers such as L’Union Miniere rose astronomically. The “trickle-down” effect meant that the families of evolue’ such as my father enjoyed a modest degree of prosperity. [Evolue’, or “the evolved,” was the French term for those of us deemed more civilized than the masses of colonial subjects. The category was based upon education and/or occupation.] “Modest prosperity” was, accordingly, our family status during my school days and the five subsequent years, when I worked for the Company.
Independence, when it came, in 1960, coincided with the substitution of aluminum for copper in many industrial processes. Nevertheless, copper prices climbed steadily. Thus, the ensuing decade saw my father’s one-sixth ownership of L’Union become even more valuable. Paradoxically, the steep rises in copper prices also made Ngongo’s first years of Independence difficult. I say that because of the miners’ constant complaints that they were not getting their “fair share.” If anything, the fact that they were now ruled by Africans, rather than Europeans, made the complaints more strident.
Before ending this diversion, I thought some readers might also wish to learn a bit more about the processes by which copper ore is mined, then transformed into a useful metal. (As a means of keeping even the most alert reader awake, I will offer only the bare bones of this admittedly dull and technical subject, with more to follow at key junctures in the narrative.)
Copper and its alloys are essential ingredients in manufacture. They are found in everything from your household’s electrical wiring and the pots in which your daily meals are prepared, to the components that keep aircraft aloft and prevent mighty guns, which are among the staples of modern warfare, from overheating and blowing up.
To merit commercial exploitation, even in these latter days, when supplies have been serious depleted, deposits generally need to be in excess of 0.2% copper, and preferably over 2%. (In the 84 years since my birth, in 1937, Ngongo’s deposits have averaged 1.7%.) As of 2021, the known reserves of higher-grade ore in the world amount to nearly one billion tons. (Ngongo’s known reserves are approximately 650,000 tons.)
As to the main processes involved in copper production, these are mining, concentration, roasting, smelting, converting and, finally, refining by means of firing and electrolytes. The conversion of copper ore to metal consists of a series of physical and electrochemical processes. Methods have evolved, and vary from country to country, depending on the country’s ore minerology, local environmental regulations, and other factors. (Ngongo’s conversion processes are all cutting edge, or soon-to-become cutting edge.)13
To return to my political narrative, after a brief “honeymoon” period, the first decade of Alphonse Batakoudou’s rule was hamstrung by a myriad of difficulties. I have alluded to the rise in world copper prices, and to the fact that worker expectations rose faster. During the heady first years of freedom, Ngongo’s miners formed a union. General militancy also grew, in the form of a ragtag bunch that broke off from the PPN and dubbed itself the Cadre Pour La Liberation d’Ngongo (CPLN).
The government soon found itself beleaguered by this two-pronged opposition. As Minister of Defence, my principal role really seemed to be that of Fire Chief. Although Ngongo maintained generally peaceful relations with our neighbors, every week, it seemed, I had either to put out several new brushfires, or else, render gentil [make nice] with the miners and militants who were setting the fires. Another factor was the lot of the peasantry, those “rural masses” assiduously courted by the CPLN. Like my semi-idol, Robert Mugabe, and like my predecessor, Batakoudou, when I became President, I must admit, I was slow to recognize the need for land reform.14
In 1963, my professional partnership with Alphonse Batakoudou was extended to the familial realm. For, on Sunday, 16 June of that year, I married his eldest sister, Sarah Grace Abete. Unlike my relationship with her brother, the marriage was to prove a lasting blessing. In our fifty-five years of wedlock, despite a few ups-and-downs, Sally and I never ceased to respect one another.
With her death, in 2018, part of me also died. I may have mentioned this at the beginning of the memoir, but the loss of Sarah Grace Abete Nkwema, my life’s partner, warned me that my own end might well be imminent. As such, Sally’s passing may have been among the factors that prompted the writing of this memoir.15
The wedding was, of course, a lavish affair. Although we had not been formally betrothed in infancy, Sally and I were not so thoroughly deracine’ [detribalized] as to eschew Lugbara or Ngbani customs. Although we were to be married by a priest, we first went through a modified form of the elaborate ritual, oku biza, or “the catching of a woman.” This included payment by the Nkweme clan to the Batakoudou of a symbolic bride price (cash and a sheath of arrows, rather than the traditional livestock). During the rite, as I took the bride in my arms, I spoke the single word, je, meaning “marry” or “barter.”16 Beer was then shared out among the two families, but we did not yet begin to eat. First, we processed to L’eglise Saint-Antoine, where the priest, one Father Jacques Dalfovo, S.J., duly performed the marriage sacrament.
I must say a bit more about the gift of arrows. Since Fons and I had served together in military operations, and since I was now his Minister of Defence, the gift had special symbolism for us. Although events would truncate the supposedly permanent bond symbolized by the arrows, in 1963, this ritual gift was intended to cement our multi-pronged partnership.
As mentioned, the meal following the two private ceremonies was lavish. A huge tent had been erected on the lawn in front of Government House, the Presidential residence, which was only a short walk from Saint- Antoine’s. Fons and I had invited all of the important people: the Ministers, Secretaires Permanentes, military brass, leaders of the diplomatic and business communities, and even two or three paramount chiefs. Among the business contingent, all six owners of L’Union Miniere, including, of course, my own proud father, found it in their interest to attend the wedding feast.
I, myself, felt that this event marked a watershed in the history of our new-fledged republic. Both the union of two leading families, and the presence of representatives of the leading sectors of society, augured well for Ngongo’s ability to avoid le scissiparite’ [the fissiparousness] that dogged so many of our neighbors.
The food and drink, of course, did not disappoint. Guests imbibed bumpers of the finest French champagne, cognac, and other wines, and feasted on French and ngonienne delicacies that tickled the palate and stuffed the guts of gourmet and gourmand alike: fois gras, truffles, filet mignon, etc., plus assorted central-African soups, stews, and other such concoctions. (I am obviously not a patriot digestif [patriotic eater].)
Even the choice of attire that day announced our commitment to eclecticism and unity. The bride, of course, wore white, but her demoiselles d’honneur [maids of honor and bridesmaids] were all decked out in a single pattern of prestigious Royal Kente wrappers and tops, plus identical beads and feathers. As for the males, a few show-offs sported elaborate robes of their own choosing, and carried ornamental canes, but most of us chose European formal wear, with bow ties in the colours of Ngongo’s flag: green, black, and red.
On this day, Fons Batakoudou presented an especially dignified aspect. You might even say that the President outshone the groom. Although he and I both wore the requisite bow ties, formal black “Victor” coats with cutaway tails, white gloves, striped trousers, and gray top hats, as the tallest person present, Fons seemed to float above the crowd. When he would cross the lawn to greet a group of newly arrived guests, his limp (from an exploded land mine in Cameroon) seemed more pronounced than usual. In retrospect, what with the limp, his coal black complexion, underlying chalky pallor, great height, and pronounced gauntness, there was something almost spectral in the Presidential aspect. But on this occasion, Fons Batakoudou was my brother, pur et simple.
I almost forgot to mention one of the principal activities of that auspicious day: speechifying. Most of the requisite toasts and tributes ran true to form, of course. For instance, both mothers tearfully wished us blessed, long and happy lives, with many children … blah blah. Our fathers emphasized continued success, manliness, and womanliness … blah blah. As for me, I dutifully promised to … blah blah, and expressed my deepest gratitude for … blah blah.
The speech I must single out was Fons’s. In addition to calling me his brother (several times), and expressing the hope that the family alliance would further strengthen our already strong ties, and cement the unity of our still-young Republic, he made one declaration that I can still recall, verbatim: “My dear brother,” he solemnly declared, “may the memory of this day see us through the dark days that will inevitably occur in future.” Amen to that! As I mentioned, there was a strangely spectral aspect to this, my brother, my ally, and best friend.
Note 13: This first digression on the subject of copper is essentially accurate, if oversimplified and repetitious. The same can be said of FN’s subsequent, sometimes redundant, disquisitions on the subject, with exceptions noted. (See, especially, Chapters Eleven, and Twelve, infra.) Readers who wish to check FN’s facts for themselves should consult the relevant items in the booklist, infra.
Note 14: As Nkwema must have known, Zimbabwe’s land woes were infinitely worse than Ngongo’s.
Note 15: It will become apparent that FN’s description of his marriage is rosily mendacious. See infra, Chapter Ten, and the summary of my unsuccessful attempts to contact FN’s widow, at the end of Chapter Twelve, infra.
Note 16: Again, the ethnographic details are essentially accurate. The same will be true of Nkwema’s subsequent ethnographical disquisitions, with exceptions noted. Readers who wish to check for themselves should consult the relevant titles in the booklist, infra.
To be continued...
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