Corona Crisis, Nature Strikes Back, Coltan Congo's Curse, Chapter 5
Every
time I stepped on board an airplane going south to Africa, I had a sense of
going home. Don’t ask me why, but that was how I felt. The excitement of
adventure, the wilderness of dark Africa, the non-existent laws, everyone out
for himself. Was this not the origin of the human species? Hadn’t our Western
world become too regulated, too organised, leaving little room for creativity
or independence? Was it good for humankind that the internet was following
every step you made? Big Brother? A well-balanced
life would need human morality. When I mentioned that to Luc and Marc, they
almost laughed their heads off. ‘Ethics? Goodwill? Are you serious? In Africa? Africa
is about who gets what,’ they vehemently agreed.
I
remember sighing deeply and had to admit it; they were probably right. It was
easy to be a holy man on top of a mountain, like Somerset Maugham wrote a
century ago, and perhaps he was right. Business ethics in Goma? Human ethics
near Lake Kivu or Kigali? Laws? Regulations? There was but one rule and that
was the rule of money, because cash meant power. I had ten million to my
disposal. Such an amount could last a long time or a short time; I did not yet know
which. As long as you had enough money and power there, you could do anything
you pleased with impunity. The US and Europe were protecting Rwandan and
Congolese politicians. The UN did not have the guts to go against them, so the
killings, rapes and theft continued as facts of life. But we were going to do
something about it. It had to be tried; it needed to be done, at long last, by
committed people. Men like us.
Was
I driven by revenge? Perhaps. The guys were driven by it, that was for sure.
But I had tried to talk them out of that, because a fight cannot be won through
anger but only through strength and being smarter than one’s opponent. What we
needed to do first was to know who our opponents were. We needed to know their
routine, their locations, their strongholds, their suppliers, their buyers, and
I knew just the guy who could help us: Aldabi.
I
dismissed these thoughts when a Brussels Airlines flight attendant offered me
to prepare my reclining seat for me to go to sleep. Our ETA in Kigali would be
at around eight-thirty. I decided to try.
We
landed in time. ‘TIA: this is Africa’ was a line I picked up from the movie Blood
Diamond, featuring Leonardo DiCaprio. This was spot on. An appropriate
explanation for the situation down here. You’d think people would be blessed by
such an enormous wealth of natural resources under their feet, but instead they
were cursed. Someone estimated that the value of proven reserves in minerals
and gold of Congo exceeded twenty-four trillion dollars. That is twenty-four
with twelve zeroes. Twenty-four thousand billion… no wonder that every greedy,
relentless politician, business tycoon or sociopath tried to manipulate the
system to grab his fair share of the loot with no regard for human suffering. DRC
could have been the richest nation on earth, instead it was one of the poorest.
‘This is Africa, and no one is here for
his health…’
I
didn’t have too much trouble passing
immigration. It was very warm in the terminal building as it seemed that the
air conditioning wasn’t working as it should have. I felt sticky in my city
clothes and couldn’t wait to change into a slightly cooler outfit. My suitcase
arrived surprisingly fast, so I made way through a colourful crowd of people
towards the exit and was waved through by a bored customs official. Many people
stood there waiting for family or businessmen arriving from Brussels or other
places, holding up iPads or printed sheets showing their names and companies.
Suddenly, I saw mine: “Erik Luyts, Metalore.ch.”
I pointed at my chest. ‘Yes, that’s me.’ I had made arrangements that not my
usual safety team would wait for me, because Aldabi had insisted that he would
be picking me up personally. The guy holding the sign freed himself from the
crowd, walked over to me, shook my hand and took my suitcase. Another man joined
us and introduced himself as the driver. ‘Mr Alombong sent us to take care of
you. There’s a plane waiting to take you to Goma right away. He says he’s sorry
he couldn’t be here himself to pick you up. He didn’t want you to have to drive
all that way, so he arranged for you to fly. That’ll save you at least four
hours.’
I
thanked them and followed them towards a car park where their Toyota Land Cruiser
was parked. ‘We’ll just drive you to another part of the airport. The pilot is
ready for you.’
And
so they did. Less than ten minutes later, I boarded a small aircraft with two
seats for the pilot and co-pilot, but not for passengers. The co-pilot welcomed
me on board, ‘This is a cargo plane, but this is your lucky day. On behalf of Coltan
Airlines, we are offering you a free upgrade because we have one business class
seat left.’ He pointed with his hand. ‘Just sit on one of those toolboxes over
there and hold on tight,’ he chuckled, ‘I wish you a pleasant and safe flight.’
I
smiled and answered: ‘This is what I do remember. Excitement, no rules, no
safety: Africa.’
He
laughed, nodded and turned around to take his seat. The engine started. It
sounded very loud in this empty plane, almost hurting my ears, so I found my
iPod earphones and put them on to dampen the roar of the engines.
We
took off immediately. Perhaps I could be in bed before midnight, I
thought. That would be great, because this trip was quite tiring but on the other
hand I somehow felt adrenalised, able to take on the world, and that was
exactly what I was intending to do.
***
Aldabi
waited impatiently for his friend on the tarmac of Goma airport. The airport
had been destroyed in 2002 by the eruption of Volcano Nyiragongo, covering it
with a layer of lava sometimes more than six metres high, and only 1800 metres
from the original length of the runway of 3000 metres could be used. Welthungerhilfe,
sponsored by the German government, repaired the runway by removing the lava
layer and in 2015 the airport was reopened.
He
looked at his watch and heard the plane approaching. A small plane like this
one could land easily, but larger aircraft needed longer runways.
He
watched Erik step out. He ran to him and hugged him like a brother. Aldabi felt
happy to see his saviour again. It had been a long time since they had seen each
other. He noticed that Erik looked very healthy and strong. ‘God, I prayed for
this day,’ he said. ‘Thank the Lord you made it here. So good to see you.’
‘The
feeling is mutual, Aldabi. I’m also happy to be back and to see you again.
Thanks for the ride in your plane, that saved me a long drive.’
‘No
problem. We must speak, talk life, talk business. You’ll be staying at my house;
your room is ready.’
A
Nissan Patrol was nearing. ‘Step in, I’ll drive you myself.’
I
looked out of the windows and noticed that most parts of this million-people
city looked rundown, desolated, broken. Shanty towns, also known in French as “bidonvilles”.
We drove to his house in another part of town, a richer part with nicely kept
lawns and a suburban feel.
The
house was magnificent. It was surrounded by a three-metre high wall. An
electric fence was opened by remote control. A second car had been following us
all the way from the airport as back-up security. ‘We’re here, Erik, welcome to
my home.’
‘I
remember last time you were living in an apartment, weren’t you?’
‘Yes,
correct, but as you see, business has been good to me.’
‘Very
good indeed.’ I laughed. ‘Congratulations.’
A
female servant opened the main door and let us in. The other car parked behind
us, and I noticed that the two men stepped out and walked away towards another
entrance.
‘They
live in the compound in the security section attached.’
I
nodded.
‘Come
in, my friend. I have asked our lady here to pour you a Blue Label so you can
relax.’
I
had to smile and wondered why it was so hard to not drink. Just about
everywhere they offered wine, booze, an aperitif or digestive, making it very
hard to say no. But I remembered my promise to myself, to Pauline and to my
mates, so I declined gracefully.
‘Suit
yourself. I do believe I ‘ll have a sip. Let’s sit down. Are you hungry?’
‘No,
not at all, thanks, I ate too much during my flight to Kigali.’
He
asked me to sit down on a large brown leather couch while he chose an armchair
of the same make. I heard the ice cubes in his glass. ‘Cheers,’ and he took a
large gulp. ‘Tell me, what brings you here? I know you Erik. You didn’t just come
here to talk about our business, did you? Tell me what’s bothering you and I’ll
try to do everything in my power to help you.’
I
shook my head and put my right finger in front of my mouth indicating that we
shouldn’t speak out loud. He immediately understood and went on to talk about
his life, his family and our friendship, but never mentioned our mutual history
about the perilous days and hours we had spent together so many years ago .
He
finished his drink. With a nod of my head, I gestured to him to follow me
outside into a tropical night. Once outside, I asked him for his mobile phone and removed the battery. I also took mine out and
left both devices at the entrance.
‘Are
you sure there is no one here who can hear us?’
‘Yes,
quite sure. What’s so important? Why
remove the batteries?’
‘You
are no dummy, Aldabi. What I’m about to tell you is very dangerous. Are you willing
to listen, and can you swear you’ll keep your mouth shut even when they
threaten to cut off your nose?’
‘Yes,
of course, haven’t I proven that during the last twenty years?’
‘Very
well. Here is the plan, or rather, here are two plans that intertwine. I came
to you because you are my friend and you have the connections and the means to
help us.’
‘You
have my word.’
‘That
I ‘ll be able to confirm soon enough, but I have no other option than to ask
you to participate, so here is what we are going to do. Listen carefully, I ‘ll
only tell you this once.’
I
talked for over an hour. I explained all the individual steps of the two plans
and what I needed from Aldabi concerning transport, logistics, hardware and
software. ‘I won’t need your people. I have personal protection organised. What
your role is, is to facilitate only.’
‘Understood.
When do you want to start? Tomorrow?’
‘No,
not just yet. Remember, we will have several meetings with suppliers and
distributors as planned. The company I represent will need assurances about
progress of negotiations during the coming week, sustainable business
development planning, letters of intent and so on, and your office is going to
provide me with those. You know what I mean, we must create an appearance, a
smokescreen if you like, and I’ll take care of the rest. What you need to
provide us with is this.’
I
handed him a piece of paper with a list of questions. ‘I want you to memorise
this list; that shouldn’t be too hard. Just quantify our potential opposition.’
‘I
see,’ he answered reluctantly, whilst reading the questionnaire. ‘I would have answers
in a couple of days, but you understand that asking someone straight out would cause suspicion, so I ‘ll have to gradually
ask the couriers, the carriers, the miners and the Congolese soldiers.’
‘Wise.
Be very, very careful whom you approach, okay?’
‘Clear,’
he said, ‘quite exciting, this plan, or these mutual plans of yours. Perhaps a
chance to get even.’
‘Your
father, you mean?’
‘Yes,
I’m sure Dad would have approved. He was always telling me that survival was an
innate obligation.’
‘He
was a wise man. Sorry they murdered him.’
‘Thanks
to him, and of course you, I was able to build this organisation.’
We
walked slowly through his garden surrounding the villa. A moment later, we
stopped at his pool, one of the perks of being successful.
‘Another
question, Aldabi. What about those Chinese? Have they pressured or bribed those
militias to grab access to more materials?’
‘There
is talk, but that has not been confirmed. They approached me, but because it is
political I was pressured to allow them more than you. So you see, it was not
me who decided to cut your supply but the Congolese government. When the
Chinese tell our government they are going to create jobs, you know what will
happen. Did you hear that the Chinese offered our government loans which are
secured by future earnings of trading minerals? I heard that a five-billion-dollar
loan has been accepted at a price of about 90 billion of resources backed
securities. Smart people those Chinese! The
Government threatened to destroy our storage areas and cut off direct supplies
through the Congolese Army. Something geopolitical I’m afraid. I’m sure
kickbacks were paid to someone.’
‘Our
plans will end these geopolitical games forever.’
‘Do
you think so? Do you believe countries like the US, the UK, Belgium, France or
the Chinese will ever allow that?’
‘No,
not really. But it ‘s the only way we can make waves high enough to change
public opinion.’
‘If
you and I survive?’ He looked at me intensely.
‘Not
to worry about that. Like your father said, survival is innate in both of us.’
***
The
next morning, he took me to his office in town. His main storage facility was
at the same site. A two-storey whitewashed building with an automatic fence to
allow trucks with goods or materials to enter, unload, load and leave again,
Aldabi’s office overlooked the loading area.
That
week we worked on the preparation of the plans in secret and in code. As
suggested, we created progress reports that we sent to Geneva and I spoke
through Skype to Didier and my colleague who took over my workload. Things
looked up. Management was pleased, Aldabi was doing well and I was excited to get
started soon. He even managed to send Metalore five tonnes more ore in the next
shipment.
Through
codes encrypted in stories, I wrote in a blog; Luc and Marc received my commands
for them to get ready to travel to Tanzania. They were able to hide their
messages to me in using the comments section of the blog, so I knew that they
completed their shopping and that everything would be ready not too far from
the Congolese border. I knew that Marc was still well connected in Central
Africa, so he was able to trace most of the supplies we would need. I had put
him in contact with a person I knew in Dar es Salaam who provided logistical
assistance and took care of the requested hardware, no questions asked. Marc
would be paying him on delivery.
Aldabi
gradually gathered all other info I requested, so by the end of the week,
everything was ready so that we could start our actions.
‘Your
truck is ready, fully loaded. Here is the info you require. Let’s take a walk,
and don’t take your mobile phone, just leave it inside.’
Aldabi
explained what he had heard. ‘There are several rebel groups and militias
sponsored by the Rwandan government and some by Uganda. They control the mines.
There are about 6,000 miners, but we were unable to count the number of rebels.
These change all the time depending on the number of fights, deaths or mutiny.
The most important mine is BCA. That will be your prime target. It is heavily
guarded, but with the right financial tactics, you may persuade some of those
fighters to work for you.’
‘Maybe
that ‘s not such a good idea, Aldabi. What we‘ll be doing is taking out the
leaders, the supervisors, one by one, with surgical precision, from all the
mines, small and large. My men and I will be doing the removal operations. This
will take a few days, perhaps a few weeks, but we can do it.’ I paused, looked him in the eye and
continued, ‘When we’ve taken over control of the mines by bribing the rebels
with more money than they’ve ever dreamt of,
we ‘ll
rig the mines with C4 explosives and at the same time we ‘ll invite the
Rwandese, Congolese and Ugandan Presidents to come to the mining area to make a
final deal or we ‘ll blow the mines to smithereens. When we control the mines,
we ‘ll buy ourselves an exodus by giving each miner a hundred-dollar bill. With
this cash, they have to return to Goma where they can show their bill to you
and receive four hundred dollars more. This will hopefully be persuasive enough
to suspend production, because there ‘ll be less miners for a while. There’ll
be no production, no theft, no killing, because the coltan will stay in the
ground. Meanwhile, you ‘ll start havoc by provoking a popular revolt among the
suffering people, the bearers, the miners, the raped women. What you should do
is to contact members of LUCHA* and Filimbi[1]. These pro-democratic
organisations of youngsters understand exactly what ‘s going on in their
country and they have had enough. For now, they may be peaceful, but they are
gaining support and are now seen as a threat to the sitting elite. Their
leaders are being arrested, which obviously enrages the population even more.
The Congolese can wait for help from the West until kingdom come, but you can
believe me that no one will ever come to change the situation. Our objective is
twofold: one is the assurance of access to minerals, and the other, to
re-establish a balanced local community so that we can do business as business
should be done. No one needs to suffer, Aldabi. We were there when almost a
million people were chopped to pieces in Rwanda. And now, twenty years or more
later, we still count millions more. No one cares, but we do. Anyway, for your
collaboration, I will pay you a million dollars plus expenses.’
***
It
was Friday. We had crocodile for dinner the night before and Aldabi took me to
the airport.
‘There
will be a 4x4 at your destination. You will fly with our Walikale Express Service,
first class,’ he giggled, but continued quite seriously, ‘you ‘ll need a guide,
so I asked Serge here to go with you to show you the way. He knows the area
well as he was born there. No worries, he can’t speak; they pulled out his
tongue as one of their sick jokes, because he was accused of stealing coltan for
himself. No nonsense with these guys, they are bad news. He will help you to reach
the mining areas. You can only drive until the road ends. Be prepared for a
long march of about sixty kilometres through dense jungle along the trail that’s
also known as the Mineral Highway. Everything is prepared.’
.png)
Reacties
Een reactie posten