BBC World Service FOOC

Summary

Podcast Summary: From Our Own Correspondent (BBC World Service FOOC)
Date: December 26, 2011
Host: Owen Bennett Jones
Segment Focus: Alan Little’s account of the fall of Mobutu in Zaire (Democratic Republic of Congo), May 1997

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Episode Overview

This special edition, presented by Owen Bennett Jones, revisits pivotal moments in international history through vivid dispatches from BBC correspondents. Today’s feature is Alan Little’s first-hand reporting from 1997, capturing the tense, chaotic, and transformative final days of President Mobutu’s regime in Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo). The segment paints an evocative picture of the emotional landscape, fear, rumors, societal collapse, and eventual hope during a regime’s demise.

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Key Discussion Points & Insights

The Power of Rumor and Fear

• Atmosphere in Kinshasa:
  • Rumors and hearsay precede the arrival of rebels. The city is gripped by uncertainty and paranoia as the threat remains unseen but imminent.
  • Quote:
    • “Rebellion enters the city first in disembodied form. It comes in the shape of hearsay and rumor and rising apprehension.” — Alan Little [01:05]

Everyday Survival Amidst Collapse

• Personal Accounts of Tension:
  • Alan Little describes carrying his passport constantly, sleeping with a torch, and preparing to flee at any moment.
  • The terror is not just from advancing rebels, but also from unpaid, desperate soldiers prone to looting and violence.
  • Quote:
    • “I am convinced we are now living the last 24 hours of the Mobutu regime.” — Alan Little [03:11]

The Imminence of Change: Army and Power Brokers

• General Maelli’s Dilemma:
  • The army, led by General Maelli, signals a willingness to negotiate to avoid devastating the city for one man’s sake.
  • Behind-the-scenes communication occurs between the army and rebel forces.
  • Quote:
    • “He cannot contemplate sacrificing an entire city for the future of one man. Those days are gone.” — Alan Little, reporting General Maelli’s sentiment [05:08]

Moment of Transition: Mobutu Departs

• Mobutu Leaves Kinshasa:
  • The regime crumbles as Mobutu flees secretly; military leadership confirms they cannot defend the city and instigate a transfer.
  • However, power vacuum and danger linger.

Betrayal and Violence Within the Regime

• Assassination of General Maelli:
  • Hopes for a peaceful transition are dashed as Maelli is killed by loyalists, marking the fragmentation and internal violence of the regime’s dying hours.
  • Quote:
    • “I feel the familiar unwelcome knot in my stomach... General Maelli was our hope of a peaceful handover.” — Alan Little [06:18]

Foreign Nationals in Peril

• Hotel Siege and Evacuation:
  • Foreign journalists and diplomats fear for their safety as renegade soldiers threaten hostages. False rumors mix with real threats.
  • A moment of dark humor arises as the possibility of Belgian paratrooper rescue is discussed.
  • Quote:
    • “Never in my life did I imagine I could be overjoyed to hear the sentence ‘the Belgians are coming.’ And we all laugh and the whole absurd edifice of rumor and paranoia falls away.” — Alan Little [07:22]

The Fall and Aftermath

• Rebels Take Kinshasa:
  • The city does not burn as feared; army collapse allows near-bloodless entry.
  • The victorious rebels march quietly through the city.
  • Retaliatory violence occurs as crowds kill and burn members of the old regime’s secret police.
  • Reflective Quote:
    • “I and the public know what all school children learn. Those to whom evil is done do evil in return.” — Alan Little [08:37]

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• On Atmosphere of Rumor:
  • “A stalking night hunter closing on its prey by stealth.” — Alan Little [01:30]
• On Regime Delusion:
  • “Mobutu is in a kind of presidential never-never land in which presidents never grow old and armies never suffer defeat.” — Alan Little [03:41]
• On Relief and Irony:
  • “Never in my life did I imagine I could be overjoyed to hear the sentence ‘the Belgians are coming.’” — Alan Little [07:22]
• On Retributive Violence:
  • “Those to whom evil is done do evil in return. While the reek of burning flesh fills the air, the crowds sing songs of freedom and liberation through the smoke.” — Alan Little [08:37]

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Important Timestamps

• 00:14 — Recap of 2011’s historic events and introduction to this archival episode
• 01:05 - 08:51 — Alan Little’s dispatch from Kinshasa, May 1997
  • 01:05 — Initial mood in the capital; rumors and military brutality
  • 03:11 — Heightened tension, desperate army behavior
  • 03:41 — Mobutu’s isolation, regime denial
  • 05:08 — General Maelli’s negotiation efforts
  • 06:18 — Maelli’s assassination; crumbling regime
  • 07:22 — Belgian paratrooper rumor and emotional release
  • 08:37 — Vengeance and reflective commentary

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Tone & Language

• Alan Little’s account is deeply descriptive, atmospheric, and filled with the immediacy and tension of a city on the precipice. His narration is both personal and analytical, conveying the emotional realities experienced by civilians and correspondents alike.

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Summary

This episode takes listeners inside one of Africa’s most dramatic and dangerous transitions of power, offering not just the facts but the lived experience of fear, rumor, and sudden change. Through Alan Little’s evocative storytelling, we witness how history feels as it happens, the costs of tyranny, the fragility of peace, and the intoxicating uncertainty of liberation.

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[The episode ends with a note that the next edition will revisit Burma’s Mandalay with Bob Jobbins.]

Transcript

[A]

You're listening to a download from the BBC. This is from our own correspondent. We make an edition of the program for BBC Radio 4, but this is a download of a special edition broadcast on the BBC World Service. It's presented by Owen Bennett Jones.

[B]

It's the end of a year that seems to have had a decade's worth of news. There's been financial crisis and war. And in the Middle east we've seen an overturning of the old order and the hope, by no means the certainty of a bright new future. And whilst these events have been swirling around us from our own correspondent, we've been digging in our old sound recordings, looking for dispatches and seeing if faded correspondence notebooks from years past have lessons for today. Back in May 1997, Alan Little was watching a regime totter not in the Middle east, but in Africa. It was the final days of President Mobutu of Zaire. That's the Democratic Republic of Congo these days. And they were characterized by rumor and fear. As rebel forces approached the Capital, Kinshasa,

[C]

Wednesday 14th of May. Rebellion enters the city first in disembodied form. It comes in the shape of hearsay and rumor and rising apprehension. It comes out of the dense, damp immensity of the rainforest in silent menacing legion and along the teeming tributaries of the great river by steamer and fer ferry boat and dugout canoe. The rebel advances out there, traveling the same silent hidden paths. And it is all the more menacing for being unseen and unheard. A stalking night hunter closing on its prey by stealth. We know the rebels are coming to take the city and we know that when they descend it will be decisive and immediate. But we don't know how far they are or how imminent their strike. We wait in the highly charged city, gripped by rumor and feverish counter rumor. And we try to separate fact from fancy, legitimate balanced concern from mounting paranoia. Everyone feels this Mobutu soldiers are behaving with more and more brutal abandon. I have seen this ready impulse to violence everywhere in this country. That single heart stopping moment when a red eyed angry soldier holds you at gunpoint and you wait for his bitterness and fury to spill over into physical cruelty. Thursday 15 May at 12:30. We hear from two sources simultaneously that the army has been routed and is in retreat from Nceli towards the airport. The airport road is crazy now, swarming with pumped up Zaire in troops heading into town. Shops and offices are closing early. The people want to get home as quickly as they can. They are afraid of the rebel advance it's true. But they are much more afraid of what their own troops will do when the end draws near. The army hasn't been paid properly in months. It is their habit to ransack the city, to embark on a frenzy of looting and pillaging in which anyone who gets in the way risks being mown down in a volley of machine gun fire. The airport is next, then the city. I am carrying my passport everywhere I go now. I find myself nervously checking from time to time that it is still in my pocket. I do not want to be separated from it. I sleep with a torch beneath my pillow. I leave my room key in the same place every night so that I know instantly where to find it if I need to leave in a hurry. I am convinced we are now living the last 24 hours of the Mobutu regime. The only way we can avoid a bloodbath here is a military couple. The generals must tell the President that they are not able to defend the city and that some kind of surrender must be negotiated. The radical opposition are going into hiding, convinced that there is a hit list of people to be murdered before the end comes. Television News tonight at 8 o' clock reported the onset of the dry season as its lead story and warned parents to protect their children from dry season illnesses. We are sorry, says the newsreader, that we are unable to bring you our usual photo montage of the President's activities today. This is due to technical reasons. What kind of fantasy world is the regime living in? Up there in his hilltop palace at Camp Chachi, Mobutu is in a kind of presidential never never land in which presidents never grow old and armies never suffer Defeat. Friday the 16th. Mobutu has finally left for Badalite, his home village in the jungle in the north of Zaire. He and his entourage sneaking out of the city unannounced at the crack of dawn. It's over. He won't be back. Our sources tell us in confidence that the generals did indeed go to him last night and they told him that they could not defend the city and that the only obstacle to a peaceful transition to rebel control was his continued presence here. The dictator's departure has left a dangerous power vacuum. But there is a glimmer of hope. General Mailli, the army chief of staff, summons the BBC to his office today. His staff brief us. The general's view is that he cannot contemplate sacrificing an entire city for the future of one man. Those days are gone. It is the General's way of signaling that he is prepared to do a deal with Kabila's men. Rumor is rife that since the rebels got to within mobile phone range of the city, there have been clandestine channels of communication between them and General Maely's people. It is an act of extraordinary courage. News from the airport. As night falls, defensive positions there have collapsed. The army, both the rank and file and the presidential guard have abandoned their positions and are heading into the city. Saturday. General Maelli has been assassinated by hard line Mobutu loyalists. The regime has turned in on itself, fragmenting in its dying hours. I am instantly awake and shivering. I feel the familiar unwelcome knot in my stomach and that cold pulse quickening. Chill spread from my feet, through my legs, stomach and chest. My throat tightens. General Mailli was our hope of a peaceful handover. He was the man who risked his life to open a channel of communication with the rebels and too, it seems, has paid the final price. The streets are ringing with small arms fire, single resounding shots echoing through the empty city and the deep dugga dugga dug of heavy machine gun fire rolling across the rooftops through the still heavy night air. We assemble in our television edit room. A well placed contact has called to say that renegade Presidential guard men are on their way to our downtown hotel to take foreign hostages. The BBC were the last people to speak to the assassinated General Maely. It was the BBC who broadcast and made known to the world General Maely's intention to bring rebel troops into the city by peaceful means. A newspaper colleague calls from elsewhere in the hotel. Stay away from the hotel lobby now, he says. Something is going on down there. It is now impossible to separate rumor from fact. We have become part of the city and are susceptible to its mood swings. The mounting paranoia has engulfed us and we choose a room that is furthest from the stairwell and lift. And we wait. Another call, another colleague, another rumor. The European ambassadors have agreed an evacuation. Belgian paratroopers are to secure the area around the hotel. It will take 20 minutes for them to cross the river. In the silence, someone says, never in my life did I imagine I could be overjoyed to hear the sentence. The Belgians are coming. And we all laugh and the whole absurd edifice of rumor and paranoia falls away. The rebels are in the eastern suburbs. The presidential guard is fleeing, too preoccupied even to loot or pillage. Sunday the 18th. The Long March from the east is over and the war is won. Today I walked with the rebels to the corrupt center of the Mobutu Empire. A single file column of exhausted men, earnest and disciplined, snaked its way up the hill to Camp Chachi. They had come from Kalemi, far away on the shores of Lake Tanganyika, and they have progressed through the heart of this huge country at the pace at which a man can march. They scarcely fired a shot. The dereliction to which Mobutu's regime has reduced the country has finally worked to its benefit. The army was rotten to the core and could not put up a fight. Kinshasa was spared the bloodbath it feared. This was not a war at all. It was a people's uprising. From the impenetrable vastness of the rainforest and along the tributaries of the river, Hope has marched into the city on bare feet and weary legs. And now there is retribution. In a suburban street, seven members of the old Secret Intelligence Service have been set upon by the mob and killed. Their bodies, piled together, have been doused with petrol and are burning. I and the public know what all school children learn. Those to whom evil is done do evil in return. While the reek of burning flesh fills the air, the crowds sing songs of freedom and liberation through the smoke.

[B]

Alan Little witnessing a regime collapse in Kinshasa in May 1997. And tomorrow we're going further back into history as Bob Jobbins writes a letter from Mandalay in Burma. So join us again tomorrow here on the BBC World Service for more from our own correspondent.