Today, I watched a film, Makombe.
It was a drama-documentary, a cinematographic recreation of the life of
Joseph Mobutu and Tshombe, hence the name Makombe.
Whilst he was alive, people were terrified of Mobutu, such was the power
he wielded and exercised, a really sad side to a man with a charming personality
and who had so much going for him.
He virtually mortgaged his country,and his countrymen are still probably paying for it.
The Editor of the Statesman Yearbook has noted in the pages on the Democratic
Republic of Congo, that were Mobutu's billions to be found, it would probably
write-off the entire debt of his beleagured country.
Such is normally the story of deluded men, and Sese Seku Mobutu was no
He was exiled in Europe before his death from cancer.
When he died, the people in Zaire broke open his palace to take his treasures
out. A prized posssession was a long table, made of plastic, perhaps 12-foot long.
Had he shared the wealth of his country with his own people, he would have been
idolised as a hero. As it was, he was feared and dreaded, and he left his people
A remarkable life, whose legacy could have been so different.