Africa |Congo 1960

Bill Pretorius tells of events at the consulate-general in Leopoldville (now Kinshasa) in 1960

My wife Renee and I departed from Jan Smuts Airport on an SAA DC7B for Leopoldville, Belgian Congo, via Salisbury in early 1960. It was our first flight outside our borders and our first posting in the South African diplomatic service. And believe it or not there was an elderly lady on board who reported that there was one of the engines on fire after it turned dark – probably the exhaust of the engine on the wing closest to her.

On the evening we disembarked in Leopoldville, which lies 4 degrees south of the Equator, the to us unknown heat and humidity struck us with a vengeance. Before we reached the terminal my newly acquired Grant Mackenzie’s tropical suit was thoroughly soaked with perspiration.

The Trade Consul Jan Schutte and his wife who had met us took us directly to the house which were took over from our predecessors, Gerhard and Jopie Houze. During that night we also experienced our first tropical storm, something new to us. It was so violent that a big tree in front of our house fell across the street and blocked the traffic.

The next morning Gerhard Houze collected me and took me to the office. We started at 7 am and worked until 2 pm.

Leopoldville was a beautiful small European city in the tropics.  

Our house was sparsely furnished and we had to wait for our own furniture to arrive from South Africa. After it arrived fourteen days later I could see it in the customs area from my office, but it was not delivered.

For the first time I leant about the African way of gifts, or matabish/dash.  A gift of as bottle of whisky for the chief customs officer and cigarettes for the rest had the consignment delivered the same afternoon.

From the start we were aware of the tensions in the city. The idea of possible independence, after Ghana received its independence a few years earlier, resulted in meetings, demonstrations and casualties caused by police shootings.

The Belgian Congo was a country of 26 million people divided into eight major groups and languages spread over 920 000 square miles (2.345 million sq km).  It was the second or third largest country in Africa, rich in no less than 24 minerals, including tungsten, gold, petroleum, uranium and copper among others.

Soon afterwards the shootings at Sharpeville led to the first demonstrations by students of the Lovanium university outside the official residence of the Consul-General. The Consul-General, Theo Hewitson, and his wife waited out the demonstrations at our house, a few block away from their residence.

This was the first time I saw water cannons used. They were not effective, because of the open spaces  and they did little damage.

This was the start of a series of demonstrations against South Africa.

After the attempt on Dr Verwoerd’s life at the Rand Show the number of demonstrations increased, not a pleasant experience, but they were kept under control by the Belgians.

The last national day reception in Leopoldville took place on 31 May 1960, Union Day. The mayor designate of the city became blind drunk on the free whisky and walked straight through a low privet hedge when he left.

Shortly afterwards the forthcoming Independence was announced. Political parties were formed. The most prominent figure was Joseph Kasavubu, who later became president. There was no mention of Patrice Lumumba.

The inexperienced and unsophisticated locals were mercilessly exploited by their unscrupulous compatriots. White-owned homes, fridges, stoves and even white women were sold. People knocked at the door and wanted to inspect what they had bought. It was a very unpleasant time.

Our two domestic servants, a pygmy and an Angolan, Clement and Garcia, warned us and protected us as much as they could.

We witnessed then parades, marches and demonstrations leading to independence. South Africa was not invited to the opening of the first parliament. This was understandable, as we did not have diplomatic status as a consulate-general, subsidiary to the embassy in Belgium.

Other countries had already indicated that they wanted to establish diplomatic relations, but South Africa wanted to remain in Leopoldville with consular status, accredited to the foreign ministry, not the head of state. But it received no response to the request from the government in waiting.

After Independence on 30 June 1960 there were many political changes. Patrice Lumumba made his appearance as prime minister .

While on the surface things seemed calm, the tension could be felt everywhere. More and more Belgians started to leave for Rhodesia and South Africa. The last national day reception was hosted by the US mission on 4^th of July 1960.

Rumours started circulating of unrest in the army. At that stage I bought a Walther PK pistol from a departing emigrant for 27 pounds, including ammunition.

By this stage the writing was on the wall for the South African mission.  It was decided to close the consulate and we asked for the normal 30 days for clearing up. This was on 7 July 1960.

The consul-general waited for hours to see Lumumba, but no interview was granted and he returned empty-handed.

The evening of the 7^th saw the beginning of the mutiny by Congolese troops. Trams full of raped and assaulted women arrived from the Thysville military base at 8 pm. The soldiers had arrested their Belgian officers. Some were shot outright.

Our wives helped at the Red Cross that assisted. The tension was intense and there was no question of sleeping. We simply lay resting on our beds.

At 1 am on 8 July we heard loud noises  - cars coming for our Italian neighbours above us, but no shots were fired.

We tried to contact the Consul-General but to no avail at first.

At 2 am we received a call from friends at KLM who told us that the mutiny was now official. Whites were gathering at large blocks of apartments near the river and not far from the departure point for Brazzaville. Our car was always ready and full of petrol, parked backwards in the garage for a quick get-away. There was also a small suitcase sufficient for an overnight stay. There were no extra clothes, as this would be a temporary stay. Also included were our passports and yellow fever cards.

There was no way out of Leopoldville except by air or across the Congo River. It was not possible to flee Leopoldville by road because there were no roads that would lead to safety.

Still no news or instructions from the Consul-General. It emerged later that he had taken refuge at the British embassy.

At the “flats” the lifts were taken up and the doors blocked. Baths and all other available containers were filled with water. Gas containers for the stoves were checked.  Weapons were at the ready. The electricity was still on.

Everybody waited expectantly.

Then the first shots in the streets, cars racing in the streets, brakes screeching. Most people were on their way to the departure point, called the Beach, for the safety of Brazzaville across the Congo River.

In the panic cars were left in the streets, some with keys in them. I do not think we would have reacted like that in South Africa. All order collapsed. It was everyone for himself. There was chaos in the streets. We could see all this from the flats. There were helicopters with searchlights overhead. Shots were fired, but there was no attack on the flats. Water and lights were on.

Just before dawn I decided to go home to see what had happened. We lived in the same street as the Houses of Parliament. My wife would not stay. My decision to go was a mistake.

Less than a kilometre away we were stopped by five soldiers speaking only English. Flemish was not popular and their French was poor. They checked our passports and said South Africa was OK. They asked for my pistol, examined it and gave it back. I hid it in the springs of the car seat.

Instead of turning back I drove on towards Parliament, thinking that the worst was over. This was my second mistake. Near Parliament we were stopped again. This time we really had problems.

The soldiers stank of dagga and drink. Our passports were taken. I was jerked from the car and pressed against the side while I was searched for arms while I reached for the sky cowboy-style. It made my blood boil to see my wife being body searched. I had to look on absolutely infuriated, but helpless with the front end of a machine pistol (FN Vinoron) against my pallet. I must say on reflection it did look funny!

We spoke only English from the start and kept on when we could. I mentioned our home address, which made sense to them. In the meantime the car was searched from engine to boot, but nobody ever stuck his hand in among the seat springs. My pistol was safe, but we were perspiring all over.

The word “whisky” did wonders – and doesn’t it still! They indicated to us to get in the car. A soldier got in the back seat with an FN against my head. It was rather disconcerting. I was scared, but glad there was only one. He took the whisky, other liquor and whatever money we had and told us to take him back to his duty point.

By then we decided that we might as well go back and take what we could. We realised that speed was essential. We packed a small bag and a big one filled with clothes and took them back to the flats by back streets. We never thought of fleeing.

Later the Consul-General traced us and set up a meeting. In the meantime the Trade Consul had also turned up at the flats. Remember that during the chaos the telephones, water and lights never went on the blink. 

It was decided to flee to Brazzaville on the Texaco oil boat. Only clothes being worn and bare essentials could be taken.

But first I had to go to the office to ensure the safety of the communications cyphers and codes. I strapped the cypher pads and codes to my body with red tape. I also took my office rubber stamps. Soldiers were beating at the door. I slipped out down the back stairs and into my car. As I pulled away the soldiers stormed out of the building and fired two shots. Both missed. There were cars everywhere. It was a “helse deurmekaarspul”!

When I arrived back at the flats, the Consul-General and his wife had by then also sought refuge there with their friends. I was instructed to look after the codes.

We then went down to the river. Everyone was quiet and tense. The children had fear in their eyes. We walked up a plank one at a time from the river bank onto the river boat named the Mississippi with its classic stern wheel drive.

We crossed the few miles to the other side of the river, nearer the rapids than usual, in silence except for the engine noise. There was no rifle fire. It was eerie.

Brazzaville was in a state of controlled chaos. It had been inundated by 10 000 over the week-end. Usually there were only 2000 foreigners from Europe, mostly French. There was a food and water shortage. There was no accommodation, but luckily it was not the rainy season.

There were no planes to evacuate the refugees. SAA had no landing rights. In addition Ndgili airport in Leopoldville was closed with oil drums on the runway.

South African and Rhodesian flight crews working for Air Congo rescued many people with a DC4 from the interior, by using an old airfield.

We stayed in the KLM manager’s bachelor flat with seventeen people sleeping on the floor with KLM comforter cushions for pillows. Only the children could have water. Some people quenched their thirst with beer. There was hardly any food and what was available was reserved for the children, as were vitamin pills.

There was no transport and we had to walk to wherever we needed to be.

I was attached to the British embassy and was given a small table in the reception area. There is issued visas, all hand-written and with the rubber stamps I had brought with me. Later I moved to “dockside arrivals” just in front of customs, because the numbers I had to deal with were too great. I had a bollard for a table.

KLM were very helpful. We had authority to fly out refugees to South Africa at state expense. KLM loaded them on the strength of my signature.

KLM also assisted. They issued tickets on the strength of a visa and a note signed by me, for payment in South Africa. Tickets were only issued at the airport. Wonder of wonders the Treasury approved this arrangement!

People were helpless the Belgian franc had fallen in value from 4 to the French franc to 8 to the French franc.   It was a great help that I was able to borrow 10 pounds from the British consul. That was a lot of money in those days!

After four days SAA obtained landing rights and collected the staff of the consulate. The Consul-General decided I had to stay. My wife refused to leave, but was officially instructed to leave. She went with only the clothes she was wearing.

Soon Starlifters many Boeing 707s and other planes arrived and transported refugees to Europe or South Africa.

I stayed behind in Brazzaville for twelve days. I looked across the river to the beautiful city that Leopoldville was, but did not know what was happening there.

In the meantime Belgian paratroopers had occupied Leopoldville to protect Belgian lives and property and to restore order. But this was only in Leopoldville. There was a very strict curfew and anyone moving after that time was shot.

There was a machine gun position under our offices and there was an explosion there after they withdrew and were replaced by the UN.

The British were given clearance for me to return and to open a South African Affairs Office attached to the British embassy, but operating from our old offices. I returned with the assistance of KLM.   

  

I took the last ferry of the day back to Leopoldville without problems. The paratroopers were still there. I had to move fast to reach my car at the flats before the start of the curfew and drive home. I battled to get the car going after twelve days exposed to the tropical weather.

I reached home in time. The water and lights were still working, but there had been a break-in and all the food had been stolen, but not my newly arrived supply of liquor that was in the cellar under the mat under the desk in my study! I had a drink with my neighbour across the street – each in his own home!

Though my arrival was secret, but not to the servants. The African bush telegraph had worked. All they wanted was food and work. Congolese money was worthless and not accepted. I gave them booze to sell.  They succeeded but food was scarce. They did get paw-paws from the tree in the backyard for breakfast, sometimes with Dubonnet or Red Vermouth and a slice of so-called bread.

The office was in order. I started destroying confidential and secret documents.

The UN troops arrived – from Ghana, Morocco, Tunisia and other African countries. The Belgians withdrew and house break-ins started, including at mine. I lost all my clothes, watches and money. I did have a pair of trousers, a shirt and a pair of shoes! I borrowed a tie from my British neighbour.

I started to collect the stolen cars of colleagues.  I’d find and bring them back. I was helped by a Brit staying with me. Canadian pilots also stayed with me. I sold booze to them for Canadian dollars to buy food on the black market. The food was stolen from stores and UN supplies. The Moroccans were the No 1 thieves.   

With money you could buy or get anything within reason. The money always had to be slipped into the passport.

I started packing our lift van helped by two locals from the Salvation Army. We closed it ready to ship hoping for the best.

I was always packed and ready for immediate departure. Suitcases that had been kept at the flats and not stolen were in the car, together with three of my wife’s hats. I also sent a suitcase of the Consul-General’s possessions to South Africa disguised as UN cargo. The container was painted white with blue stripes. KLM were the agents.

I was never able to contact my wife or she me. But one day I tried again. There was no direct dialing, but the Marconi operator unwittingly contacted South Africa. I was able to speak to her for a few minutes before the line went dead.

But she did hear me on the radio in South Africa just before the second rugby test match against the All Blacks at Ellis Park. It was a chat I had a South African reporter, Belgian radio man and the SAA representative.

One morning at the end of August I received an urgent call from the British Ambassador. I was to depart immediately – within 15 minutes. I left the car and everything else. I had an open KLM ticket. I had no transit visa for Brazzaville, but SAA got authorisation to take me aboard.

I returned home with my suitcase and my wife’s three hats.

Our furniture and car arrived six months later. The furniture was in poor shape. Rats had eaten the sofas. There was maize growing in a chair. The table and six chairs were unrepairable.

 The car was brown with dust and the gears messed up. Frank Lee from the staff section was the only person who saw all this. Only one table and a few chairs could be repaired

The insurance would not pay because this was allegedly “force majeure” related to civil unrest. After fourteen months the Treasury paid out 40 per cent of the value. We also lost our books, record collection, and all our personal effects, certificates and other documents.

If it had not been for the support of my wife at the start, I do not know if things would have worked out for me in the way they did.