âCâétait bien à lâépoque!â requires some explanation. What was it the exmineworkers were referring to, what was their point of reference and what were the objects of loss they no longer had? In this chapter I focus on the three domains of stability, heshima (respect) and identity, to illustrate the ODV sâ sentiment for what they lack today against the backdrop of the situation in which they were socialised and which serves as their point of reference.
1 Stability
I argue that stability is one of the objects of loss constructed by the exmineworkers. They are in a daily struggle for survival, and during the interviews and the baraza the lack of stability was evident at different levels, emerging repeatedly.
The ex-mineworkersâ first memories covered their childhood, their educational path and the start of their working life. Furthermore, narratives by their parents influenced their perception of their (work)life. All the interviewees and participants in the baraza were born between the 1930s and the 1950s. Thus, their accounts referred to a time from the early 1940s up to today.
1.1 Background Events
[P]rotest did not just suddenly happen. It was often the result of motion-time study engineers disturbing the flow of authority between camp managers and the lower echelons of administrators. As a result, workers felt themselves empowered enough to test the validity of the companyâs wartime demands.1
[A]round 17,000 workers were not content with the working and living conditions in Union Minièreâs mines and compounds. The company portrayed itself as a considerate employer and displayed photos and films of smiling workers, clean hospitals, and happy families. Yet this was simply an attempt to build up a model reputation for the entire Belgian colonial project. In reality everyday life for the vast majority of workers was characterised by hard, dangerous, and poorly paid work.2
[l]ike other industrial firms in southern Africa during the Depression, the company sought to drastically reduce the cost of maintaining and reproducing subsequent generations of African workers. [â¦] Its administration believed that it could do this without undermining the companyâs legitimacy in the eyes of the workers. The larger context of the mineworkersâ experience, therefore, had its roots in this decisive turn in southern Africaâs industrial revolution.3
We started working [at the smelter] at 3 oâclock in the afternoon and we had to finish by 11 at night. At that time we waited for the others to come relieve us but they didnât come. Then the white men who were working there told us to shut down the furnace and to go back home. As we were
going home we met, at the compound offices, many men. And there were soldiers encircling them ⦠I was scared and I didnât want to stay there any longer so I went home and slept, and in the morning some delegates called for people to go to the football field. Many people went there but a few stayed at home. Then M. Maron [the governor] came and said: âWe want to increase your wages but we canât treat like this. You have to point out twelve or twenty from you and we will go to the office to discuss the problemâ. But the people didnât want to listen. The delegates wanted to make them quiet, to calm them, but the people didnât want to. There was crying and shouting. Then the governor found that he was in danger himself, so he asked the soldiers to fire. Then they shot the people. I myself didnât see anything because I was behind, but those who saw said that Mpoy Léonard, who was a delegate, was the first man to be shot down.6
Monsieur le Directeur: Many whites are astonished to hear our demands for better housing and better treatment. They feel that we are asking for too much â in short, that we desire to live as they do [â¦] Permit me to draw attention to the fact that a small dwelling might have served our needs in the past since we spent most of our time in the open air or in the shade of a large tree or lean-to. But now, with new ways of doing things introduced into our country, we can no longer live as we did in the past. We are obliged to live in houses in which we can entertain our relatives, friends and other visitors (1934, 3).7
The Second World War was also a battle for the control and exploitation of the worldâs strategic mineral sources.8 The workersâ protests took place at a time of economic change in the Belgian Congo. The UMHK made a drastic overhaul and expansion of its operations and became the worldâs main supplier of cobalt and uranium.9 It multiplied its general output sixfold but with only a twofold increase in its workforce and minimal technical innovations.
| Il importe de rechercher les causes de ces événements non pas pour établir et doser les responsabilités mais pour en tirer une leçon pour lâavenir : il ne faut plus de 9 Décembre.10 | It is important to look for the causes of these events, not to establish and balance the responsibilities, but to learn from them for the future: we must not have another 9th of December. |
The company looked for a reason for the strike. The annual report pretends that there was no explanation and emphasises the companyâs surprise. The company judged its workers to be âhardworking, disciplined and happyâ. The company praised the employees by remarking on their willingness to work overtime as the war demanded greater production.11 This view of the high level of discipline of the workers indicates that the management did not expect the protest.12 The report queried how it was possible that such courageous, disciplined and happy workers without any revolutionary germ (germe révolutionnaire) were suddenly drawn into such events. The UMHK determined as follows:
| There is only one possible answer: there was a contagion. The source of contamination was EXTERIOR and nothing opposed its epidemic extension â thus, first among the causes of the events of December among the blacks, the most important of all, the truly determining cause: the strike movements by the whites. |
Thus, the strike by Europeans was portrayed as the culprit, but the line of argument did not follow the question of which whites were on strike and why. Rather, it was based on the idea that the Congolese would simply imitate what they saw, like children. This was also stressed by the UMHK in the same annual report, quoting Doctor Mottoulle, medical advisor to various mining companies and one of the driving forces behind the âworkforce stabilisation policyâ â not without emphasising his long experience in the Congo:
| Le colonisateur ne doit jamais perdre de vue que les [sic] |
The coloniser must never forget that the N* have the souls of children, souls who mould themselves to the methods of the educator; they watch, listen, sense and imitate. |
The argument relates to the supposed sole capacity of the Congolese for imitation, which would then be reproduced. The importance of this point was expressed not only by the choice of words but also by their presentation in capital letters:
| ILS VOIENT LES BLANCS â CEUX-LA MEMES QUI SONT LEURS CHEFS AU CHANTIER OU A LâUSINE â QUI REFUSENT LE TRAVAIL ⦠Wazungu wanakataa kazi.15 | THEY SEE THE WHITES, THE SAME PEOPLE WHO ARE THEIR SUPERIORS AT THE WORKSHOP OR THE PLANT, REFUSING TO WORK ⦠The whites refuse to work. |
Although the report stated that the strike that broke out among the whites was by far the most important cause of the disruption of order in the camps, the company argued that there were other causes, too, although to a lesser extent.16 The UMHK acknowledged the rising cost of living for the workers in particular and pointed out that workers would have been helplessly at the mercy of traders:
| Le COUT DE LA VIE pour les noirs a effectivement augmenté. A côté du renchérissement des marchandises provoqué [sic] par la situation internationale il y a aussi, de la part de bon nombre de commerçants, une exploitations scandaleuse de la clientèle indigène dont toute lâéducation dâacheteur est à faire. Cette exploitation existe depuis toujours mais la guerre en a décuplé lâampleur. Quand on lit la chronique judiciaire des journaux relatant les excès commis dans le commerce avec les européens, on peut se figurer jusquâoù vont les abus lorsquâil sâagit dâindigènes, faciles à leurrer et bien incapables de se défendre.17 | The COST OF LIVING for black people has indeed risen. Besides the increase of the price of goods caused by the international situation, there is also a scandalous exploitation by many traders of the indigenous clientele, who have to be educated as buyers. This exploitation has always existed, but the war has amplified it tenfold. When one reads the legal column in the newspapers about the excesses committed in trade with Europeans, one can imagine how far the abuses go when it comes to Congolese workers, who are easy to deceive and quite incapable of defending themselves. |
Thus, âimpudent merchantsâ were presented as one of the main sources of the exploitation of the workers and the UMHK located the cause for the strikes outside of the companyâs range of influence. Exactly as in the ex-mineworkersâ current assessment of the good old times, when the company took care of their workers, the UMHK presented itself as the protector. The UMHK supported
Another report, a summary of the years from 1940 to 1946 by the Département M.O.I. addressed to the general management, mentions that the discipline among the Congolese workers (they used the term indigènes) would have suffered during the years of war.19 The first of several reasons given by the UMHK for this was the âthe fall of prestige after our setbacksâ.20 The company further explained that, to improve the workersâ situation, it increased salaries (with a detailed report on how much in which year), it increased food rations for the workers, their wives and children, and in 1944, opened âcanteensâ to sell fabrics, household items, and so on.21 The last measure on the list of improvements to enhance workersâ discipline was a newly created award:
| Il a, enfin, été décidé de créer un âBrevet de Bons Servicesâ qui sera remis à certains travailleurs anciens, de bonne formation professionnelle qui donnent satisfaction tant au point de vue de leur conduite, quâau point de vue de leur travail.22 | Finally, it was decided to create a âCertificate of Good Serviceâ,which would be awarded to certain former workers with good professional training who gave satisfactory results both in terms of their conduct and in terms of their work. |
After the Second World War, the UMHKâs need to stabilise the workforce synchronised with the Belgian colonial stateâs ideas of development for the colony. In 1949, the colonial government introduced a 10-year plan for the economic and social development of the Congo23 containing, among other aspects, important infrastructure projects, such as public buildings and housing facilities for
Ferdinand Grévisse was a district officer of that time who published a study about so-called ânative quartersâ in Lubumbashi. He argued that the Africans should be motivated to build houses themselves, although under supervision and with consideration of a long list of constraints.25 Grévisseâs idea was one of collaboration, in the sense that the colonial state would build the foundations of the houses and provide the construction material at a good price, while the future inhabitants would build the houses themselves. In doing so, the colonial state could decide on the exact size and location of the houses on a parcel of land. In addition, this system would minimise costs by avoiding the involvement of construction companies. Furthermore, prefabricated parts, such as windows, doors and roofs, would be used.
Prefabricated parts were also a symbol for houses that corresponded to the idea of a European house, not only in the Belgian Congo. Callaci writes that providing new housing was also a matter of modernisation and, above all, of âcivilisationâ in the early years of Tanzaniaâs independence.26 For the first president, Julius Nyerere, building houses was building Tanzania.27 The modern houses (nyumba za kisasa) were covered by a metal sheet roof (bati).28
For Grévisse, it was not only the material and spatial considerations regarding house building that were important but also the social component.29 The Système Grévisse would â he argued â lead to the stabilisation of the lives of urban Africans, and the Congolese would thus be easier to govern.
It was precisely at this time, when the UMHK was on the one hand providing the workforce with the most benefits and on the other hand trying to retain workers in order to secure a much-needed efficient and stable workforce, that the ODV organisation was born.
The first concept that I link to stability is that of kazi (work). It was the prerequisite for the mineworkers to become ODV s and is the basis of what they identify with.
1.2 Kazi
The Swahili term for âworkâ, kazi links the employee with the employer whereas kuwa mfanyakazi describes âbeing a workerâ. Workersâ nostalgia about lâépoque is directly connected with these terms. All their painful longing for the old days relates to having been a worker. Kazi means more than what we might think of as work, mental or physical activity as a means of earning income. Likewise, âworkerâ means more than being an employee, especially one who does manual or non-executive work. Work and being a worker meant being taken care of by the employer, and housing was one of the key components of being looked after â or controlled. The workplace defined housing that became the home for thousands of Congolese and newcomers from Rwanda-Urundi. A home was shaped not only by its physical structure but equally by the social activities that went along with work and leisure activities.
Fabian discusses major components of the semantic field of the Swahili term kazi in relation to a religious movement known as Jamaa (family) during the 1960s. An estimated 130,000 people were involved.30 The movement was organised on a local level, and membership was restricted to adult and married Christians; it was also âintertribalâ. The Swahili of Katanga was the language that Placide Tempels, the founder of this movement, chose to formulate his message.31 Fabianâs interest during his research in 1966/67 focused on the everyday world of a typical Jamaa member and the relationship between their job and their employer. Fabian describes his bewilderment caused by contradictory statements towards kazi. On the one hand, work was presented to him negatively, such as work is hard, wages are low, while on the other hand there were positive connotations, such as being proud to be a worker (muntu wa
[R]elationships between industrial employers and their African employees cannot be limited to the actions and transactions of remunerative labor. The visible result was the âCampâ, the labor settlement as a total society in which all basic needs were satisfied (and controlled) by the company, including religion since missionaries administering parishes and schools in the settlements were on the payroll of the enterprise.33
The âcivilisingâ approach also became visible in the official documents of the company, where âthe overall raison dâêtre of the industry as well as the essence of labour relationship was, in effect, consistently expressed in the language of moral values, philanthropic aims, and a total theory of historyâ.34 Fabian describes the Jamaa movement as based on the idea of unity and love beyond racial, ethnic and social boundaries. He quotes a member who explains the movement as being âlike the Union Minièreâ.35
Fabian offers a brief sketch of the semantics of kazi.36 He explains that in Swahili no single lexical term exclusively refers to industrial work, as is the case
The term kazi also made its way into the Swahili terminology for weekdays.38 Monday became siku ya kazi moja (first day of work), Tuesday became siku ya kazi mbili (the second day of work), Wednesday became siku ya kazi tatu (the third day of work), Thursday became siku ya kazi ine (the fourth day of work) and Friday, siku ya kazi tano (the fifth day of work). The UMHK distributed the weekly food ration (mposho) on Saturdays to the workers, and so Saturday got the name siku ya mposho.39
Together with Bogumil Jewsiewicki, Dibwe dia Mwembu conducted research in 2004 on the perception of kazi among workers. Dibwe dia Mwembu argues that at the very beginning, kazi was put on a level with slavery because living conditions were harsh, accidents numerous and morbidity and mortality rates were high.40 The first subterranean mine in Kipushi was described as a tomb. Due to the numerous accidents, it was widely believed among Congolese that going into an underground mine meant being buried alive. As a result, worker from Rwanda-Urundi in particular were recruited who were initially unaware of these incidents.were recruited to work there.41 Dibwe dia Mwembu further argues that during the Second World War, population numbers and workers increased, but so did morbidity due to accidents, probably also because the
| à cause de la concurrence, les conditions de vie des travailleurs progressent avec lâamélioration du logement, de la ration alimentaire, des infrastructures médicales, etc., et rendent les villes industrielles plus attrayantes.43 | Thanks to competition, the living conditions of the workers are getting better with the improvement of housing, the food ration, medical infrastructure, etc., which is making the industrial cities more attractive. |
Work in the city became a sign of good living (bien-être) for the workers and their families, because they had access to utilities that were unknown in the villages, such as electricity or running water. Dibwe dia Mwembu describes photographs that workers sent to their family members in the home villages, which showed well-dressed family members. The pictures portrayed men sitting around a table, chatting, eating and with a beer after hours of hard work, and women in fashionable dresses. The families were shown next to accumulated possessions, such as a bike, a phonograph or sewing machine.44 At that time, Dibwe dia Mwembu states that the saying âKazi ndjo baba, ndjo mamaâ (work is my father, work is my mother) started to be used.45
The noun kazi was often replaced by the name of the company, Union Minière, and the interview partners and participants in the baraza referred frequently to this metaphor. During that period of economic prosperity for the company, work valued the workers, they gained respect and were able to satisfy all the needs of a family. Kazi thus was a social promotion and offered a certain identity in the late colonial world after independence.46
Dibwe dia Mwembu refers to a song by the musician Jean Bosco Mwenda wa Bayeke, who was famous in the 1950s. In the song, the musician expressed his contempt of unemployment that would not allow people to have a good life anymore:
Hautakula, hautavala sana sana Watu wengine ni wasenji sana sana Wanaacha kazi, wanakaa paka bure Umutazame na bilato habapate47 |
Unemployment too, itâs a very bad position
You cannot eat nor dress properly Some people are really idiots They give up their work for nothing You can see them with no shoes48 |
The musician not only glorified work by characterising the benefits of work (food and clothes), but criticised those who abandoned their jobs and thus did not meet the norms related to work that guaranteed a good life.
In 1967, Gécamines emerged from the nationalisation of UMHR. But economic changes led to a crisis in the Congo and especially for Gécamines. Nevertheless, as Dibwe dia Mwembu points out, Gécamines paid salaries on a regular basis,49 and they were still higher than at other companies. However, the salaries were insufficient because canteens, for instance, did not offer food at preferential prices anymore. Healthcare services were still provided, though. Until 1975, the company enjoyed a period of prosperity. Then the economy declined and the company was a victim of misappropriations by the Mobutu regime.50 Gécaminesâ empire started to collapse in the turmoil of the early 1990s and was not able to meet its financial obligations.51 Workers were paid irregularly. At this point, the former meaning of kazi was fading away.
Workersâ nostalgia about kazi thus refers to a period when employment stood for prosperity, which was reflected in material things such as housing, food and salary, access to healthcare, education, leisure activities and prestige. There wasnât a single conversation where I wasnât reminded of the benefits that came with kazi in the good old days. For instance, mposho, the food ration; the ex-workers explained to me in detail the exact amounts of the different foodstuffs they were eligible to get depending on the size of their family. Food was never an issue while they were employed; nowadays, they often starve. It is thus not surprising that mposho was a dominant topic.
In 1964, the UMHKâs company magazine Mwana Shaba published â as in most of its issues âthe football results; its sports section reported on the different company teams.53 A photograph of a football team called âDragonsâ, which visited the town of Kipushi for a game, appears at the bottom right of the page. The caption relates that the team of mineurs (mineworkers), as the players were described, visited the mining facilities in Kipushi before the game took place. The photograph was taken because they arrived as a football team, and the teams that were playing were usually shown on that page in Mwana Shaba.
But the team is wearing protective clothes and white helmets. It is possible, of course, that the photo was taken during the football teamâs tour of the factory, and that protective clothing and helmets were required in this context. However, the photograph showing the team is not that different from the one on the following page, where a photograph illustrates a report on a company delegation during an underground visit at a mining site in Jadotville. The delegation is also wearing protective clothes and white helmets, the same outfit as the members of the football team. Mwana Shaba illustrated workers during working hours and workers as members of a football team in their leisure time in the same manner.
Leisure activities did not exist as an activity per se, but as part of the work-life concept. Thus, I use the entanglement of work and leisure as one lens through which I look at company paternalism. As many scholars have stated, leisure cannot be conceptualised without reference to work.54 The mining company, which took care of all aspects of life, thus also defined leisure activities. The companyâs approach was in line with the Belgian colonial stateâs welfare activities.55
Leisure activities were provided in an allocated area as a result of the residential segregation in a city that existed solely because of the mining activities.
To ensure a stable workforce, the company kept an eye on workersâ efficiency in the workplace, but they also tried to make sure that workers used their time off for healthy leisure activities. As Martin points out, leisure as an abstract issue âis most powerful in the minds of those who seek to impose certain activities or to structure time and spaceâ.58 Thus, the UMHK structured work and leisure temporally and spatially. In terms of the former, the most obvious evidence, frequently recounted by the interviewees, was the sound of the gong that could be heard throughout Cité Gécamines, announcing working hours and the change of shift. As for the latter, the company provided jobs, housing and leisure activities on company-owned land; each activity had its defined area under the companyâs sphere of control.
In the 1951 annual report, the UMHK stated that to celebrate the companyâs 50th birthday it had decided to create social centres.59 As well as providing an area in which to educate women, the centres also served as a space for leisure activities.60 The report stated that the centres had to include a room for shows, one for meetings, a library, a stadium and a swimming pool.61 Furthermore, the report mentions the cercles sportifs, which had already been created. In his comparative study, Chipande portrays the importance of football on the
Even though the annual reports show that the company promoted football, the UMHK kept a critical eye on it. Football was very popular among workers, but not necessarily the preferred way of controlling their leisure time. The company was not always happy about the lack of educational aspects in certain sporting activities:
| Le sport presquâuniquement pratiqué est le football. Il a incontestablement beaucoup de succès, mais son action éducative est pour le moins douteuse. Il permet à quelques vedettes de se donner en spectacle et a souvent amené des incidents fort significatifs : un chauvinisme exagéré sây développe, teinté parfois de superstitions et influencé par certains exemples regrettables donnés par les équipes dâEuropéens.64 | The sport almost uniquely practised is football. It is undeniably very successful, but its educational action is dubious to say the least. It allows a few stars to put on a show and has often led to some very significant incidents: exaggerated chauvinism develops, sometimes tinged with superstition and influenced by some regrettable examples given by European teams. |
The company did not approve of chauvinistic or superstitious behaviour because it needed disciplined workers. The behaviour of some players is also mentioned in the 1957 annual report.65 Just as Chipande reports for Zambia and Katanga,66 the educational aspect of sporting activities was important to the company. For example, the UMHK organised athletics competitions, but also championships for team sports such as football or basketball. Chipande points out that âthe growing popularity of football among Africans in the Katangese mining towns led the President of UMHK, M. Gillet, to introduce a football competition in 1956 for what came to be known as the Gillet Cupâ.67
In the 1951 annual report, other leisure activities are also listed, such as reading, games, social gatherings at bars, dance, theatre, arts and cinema.68 The company criticised workers for allegedly showing the greatest interest in the bar, where beer was served, out of all the recreational activities offered:
| Il semble quâactuellement tout au moins, lâintérêt se porte surtout et avant tout sur lâexistence du bar où sera débitée de la bière européenne.69 | It seems that, at least now, interest focuses primarily on the existence of the bar where European beer will be served. |
From the beginning, the UMHK kept an eye on beer consumption and gambling activities. For example, two years earlier, the company blamed the workers for their lack of discipline in other areas of life on the fact that they loved beer and gambling too much:
| Nous ne pouvons, pour expliquer cet état de choses, que répéter les raisons que nous invoquions dans notre Rapport de 1948, câest à dire notre refus de vendre à crédit et lâimprévoyance du noir qui ne sait pas sâimposer la discipline de lâéconomie. Nous sommes cependant tentés dây ajouter lâinfluence du jeu et lâabus des boissons qui prennent de plus en plus dâextension.70 | To explain this situation, we can only repeat the reasons we invoked in our 1948 report, that is, our refusal to sell [the furniture] on credit and the improvidence of the black who is unable to show thrifty discipline in economic questions. We are, however, tempted to add that the influence of gambling and the abuse of drinks is gaining more ground. |
In the evenings, most of the workers would drink beer in the cercle in the Cité, as this space was called, even though they could have gone to another area in town. However, the prices in the Cité were lower in comparison to the city, and that was how the company attempted to control the radius of movement of its workforce. Dibwe dia Mwembu discusses the bar not only as a place of controlled drinking but also as a space for exchanging news important to the workers (diffusion de lâhistoire orale).71
| Ce métrage se compose en grande partie de films muets éducatifs et documentaires, qui furent commentés en Swahili sur fil sonore, par le personnel du Département M.O.I., et de quelques films sonores commandés récemment à lâAbbé Cornil.72 | This footage consists largely of educational and documentary silent films, which were commented on in Swahili on audio wire by the staff of the Department of Congolese and Ruanda-Urundi workforce, and a few sound films recently commissioned by Father Cornil. |
The main objective of the UMHK was to educate the workers and families who attended the film screenings. The choice to provide commentary on the films in Swahili reflects the role Swahili played in this environment. The lingua franca among workers, it was also the language that connected the mining company with its workers.73 The company purchased films produced by the most successful film-maker, Father André Cornil. In 1950, he was asked by the Services de lâInformation du Congo Belge to go to the Belgian Congo and produce educational films for the Congolese.74
sought to help Congolese spectators appreciate the very modes of cinematographic expression. As one of the most successful of the filmmaker-priests, Father Cornil, later explained to Rolot and Ramirez, âIn the
bush, where an entire village usually met for a cinema showing, the difficulties in understanding such films proved to be nearly insurmountable. The education of this virgin public had to be complete. The first task was therefore to make rural populations, people who, for the most part, had never attended any screenings, familiar with cinema.76
Cornilâs film productions reflect the attempt to impose Christian values, such as monogamous relationships, on the audience. Film screenings for educational purpose were widespread in other colonial settings as well. Rice discusses the colonial film projects in the British Empire and points out that â[f]ilm might provide the âconnective social tissueâ, a means to address, homogenize, and monitor disparate worker groupsâ.77 However, UMHK acknowledged that moments of pure entertainment were also necessary to keep the Congolese happy. The company noted that therefore the following improvements were being considered:
| Il serait souhaitable que la Société fasse lâacquisition dâune douzaine de films de courts métrage, genre Mickey Mouse. Ce genre de film, très prisé par lâindigène, servirait à clôturer chaque séance sur une note de gaieté générale.78 | It would be desirable for the company to acquire a dozen short films, such as Mickey Mouse. This type of film, highly prized by the Congolese, would serve to end each session on a note of general cheerfulness. |
With its colonial and paternalistic approach, the company thus presented itself as a benefactor, providing the worker with entertainment at the times and in the areas it deemed appropriate.
1.4 Space
In this subsection, I offer a brief history of the politics of space in the context of UMHK/Gécamines before highlighting how space, as part of the category stability, also became an object of loss.
In 1910, the city of Elisabethville79 was founded in honour of Queen Elisabeth, the wife of King Albert I.80 By that time, the Belgian government had
Elisabethville was planned according to a design that would crystallise Belgian colonial apartheid: initially, a âwhite townâ was separated from the African township for the Africans, called cité indigène by a neutral zone (cordon sanitaire) separating the dwellers of the same city â as was common practice in sub-Saharan colonial cities.82 The basis of the original plan was a grid pattern of streets dividing the cityâs 450 hectares in equal blocks of 250 by 120 meters. âThe grid testifies to the economic logic underlying the spatial organization of the urban territory. Organizing the city according to lots enabled the Comité Spécial du Katanga to valorise the 900 parcels in an efficient way.â83
The European district was the political and commercial centre, exclusively reserved for âwhitesâ and their domestic servants.84 In the âwhite townâ, segregation politics continued within the estates: the living areas for the European families were âprotectedâ by the office of the head of the household, which functioned as a buffer zone lying adjacent to the service areas for the âboysâ. Domestic servants and gardeners were housed in modest accommodation called the boyerie, in the garden, next to the garage or storage areas.
In addition to the âwhite townâ and the cités indigènes, two big companies had staff camps in Elisabethville: the railway company BCK and the UMHK. The UMHK chose the location of its labour camp close to the workplace and
By the late 1920s, the Africans had two choices for urban employment and accommodation. The first option was to work for the UMHK and to live in their camp, which offered good food, housing and medical care but relatively low salaries and little autonomy for miners, who became members of a rigid hierarchy. The other option was to live in the cité indigène where there was a chance to be hired by a smaller employer who might offer higher salaries. Similar to the cité indigène were independent quarters, which were also reserved for Africans. Living in the cité indigène or independent quarters meant much lower living standards than in the UMHK camp but greater freedom. Regardless of these differences, and in contrast to the earlier period, Elisabethville had by then become a desirable place to live for thousands of Africans.86
However, as Lagae points out, these ways of life were largely determined by âcolonial confrontationsâ that were typical of any form of colonialism. âThe house was such a field where these confrontations took a very tangible form, as it was the meeting place par excellence of two very different cultural groups, the European occupants and the Congolese domestic servants, mainly âboysââ.87
UMHK even gave housing allowances to top-ranked workers (teachers, nurses, and skilled workers) to stay in the cité. Formerly based on a simple division between married and single workers, camp space was used to facilitate a more complex hierarchy founded on biopolitical, professional and cultural criteria from the 1930s onwards.89
The UMHK also constructed a residential area for the white employees. This district, Makomeno (part of the former cité indigène) was located at what the
Housing matters were a constant topic of discussion for both the company and the workers, as the annual reports of the UMHK reveal. In 1947, the UMHK introduced the Conseil indigènes dâentreprise (the council of the Congolese workers), whose members were selected by the workers themselves. The company would listen to the council members when they were invited to the meetings. The annual reports address all issues related to the workforce, such as the number of workers, legal aspects, the pension system, infrastructure, the organisation of leisure activities and various issues related to accommodation. Among the topics discussed and recorded in writing are lists of demands by the Conseil indigène dâentreprise. Most related to technical aspects of the house or to requirements related to work and living conditions in general.
The demands by the workers mentioned in the 1957 annual report highlight the very diverse nature of their claims.90 For example, workers expressed concern that schools were gradually being closed; they asked for a proper road to get to the cemetery; they stressed that mothers should be allowed to stay with a child who was being treated in the hospital; they asked for a bike shed near the workplace; that the canteens in the Cité should be reopened; that the toilets in the Cité should have signs with femmes (women) and hommes (men). In the annual reports, the demands by the workers are in most cases presented in listed form. In general, no further explanatory details are available about the reasons for the demands by the workers. Sometimes the demands have the remark refusé (denied) in brackets, but this addition is not implemented consistently, either over the years or within the same annual report.
Many of the demands repeatedly made by the workers in Lubumbashi or other UMHK sites concerned the housing situation. Firstly, topics related to electricity. Electrification of the Cité was generally a demand (as in 1954,91 1955,92 and 196093). Over the years the workers more specifically asked for electric light in the house (1958)94 or pointed out that there were still houses
Another issue raised was water. One the one hand, workers demanded that water should be distributed (1954,111 1959112); on the other hand, they explicitly requested running water in all houses (1959,1131960,114 1963115). The shortage of water was raised in 1955116 and 1964;117 the bad quality of water was criticised in 1959,118 while in 1956119 they found fault with the water pressure. The shortage of water for toilets was criticised in 1963.120 Workers seem to have been aware
Toilets were constantly requested. Even in 1960122 and 1962123 not all houses were equipped with toilets, and the council demanded the provision of toilets in all homes. Individual toilets, shower and sinks were requested from the 1950s, and that toilets should adjoin the houses (1959).124 The lack of running water for toilets was criticised by workers, as was the lack of roofs for the toilets (1959).125
Other issues linked to the house concerned, for example, the demand for cement floors made by cement in the old houses (1956,126 1961127), the repair of the roofs of the houses (1958),128 a wooden balcony and a cusinière bantoue, which was an outside charcoal stove (1962),129 more wood for cooking and heating (1957),130 and additional sinks outside the house (1963).131 Generally, bigger and more modern houses were built by the council over several years (1959,132 1960133), with a special emphasis on larger houses for families with many children (1963).134 In 1962,135 houses that were more modern were explicitly described as houses with big windows and interior doors.
Doors were by far the most frequent subject matter among the house-related complaints. Workers requested the installation of interior doors in the houses over several years (1954,136 1956,137 1959138 and 1960139) or, like in 1957,140 asked that the process of installing the interior doors should be speeded up. Other laments related to the quality and type of doors. For example, in 1955141 the
Windows were a subject of discussion in the 1960s. The workers asked for vertical windows (1960),150 locks for the windows (1964)151 and more practical window frames (1964).152
Other structure-related requests were noted in the 1960s. In 1962,153 the workers complained that the paint and chalk used for the interiors was of poor quality; in 1963 they asked that the houses should be repainted before the next worker moved in;154 they asked for an overhanging roof to store charcoal in 1960155 and for new or renovated kitchens in 1964.156
Furthermore, health, hygiene and disinfection were important to the workers. In 1959157 they asked for disinfectants to be distributed to them; in 1962158 they stated that the insecticides they were given were not effective enough and twice they asked for mesh screens to be fitted to the windows and doors to keep out mosquitoes (1962,159 1963160). Likewise, workers asked for rubbish bins (1954,161 1955162 and 1960163).
The main concerns remained the same over many years: water, electricity and doors. Doors that could be locked from the inside might allude to the workersâ need for privacy. From the 1960s, more comfort-related requests were made, like having more rooms, or updated kitchens, or more public phones nearby. The workersâ demands were minuted by the UMHK and thus their voice is accessible to us but only indirectly. Taking that into consideration, the workersâ notion of a healthy and hygienic house correspond to a large extent to what the Belgian colonial state and the UMHK tried to promote among them. The house was the workersâ own universe in a world largely comprising Cité Gécamines and the workplace. This space was controlled and looked after by the company right into the farthest corners of the workersâ homes.
There is another aspect in connection with space and control: the ethnic composition of residents in Cité Gécamines. The UMHK sought to create a detribalised African community167 and therefore rejected any initiative to have workers of the same origin live or work together. For this very reason, it introduced the position of tshanga tshanga. The term tshanga tshanga168 derives from the Swahili verb âchangaâ (to mix) and refers to a crucial solution in the aftermath of previous troubles: workers should be ethnically mixed during work and where they lived. The tshanga tshangaâs responsibility was to ensure that workers did not form ethnic alliances, to prevent ethnic rivalry among the workers and to ensure a well-controlled and organised life within Cité Gécamines. The tshanga tshanga was responsible in the Cité for mixing populations by allocating worker housing appropriately.169 However, this endeavour was not crowned with success: â[L]es différentes populations en présence se regroupaient par affinité tribale et ethnique et développaient des stratégies de défense de leurs intérêts respectifsâ (The different populations involved grouped themselves by tribal and ethnic affinity and developed strategies to defend their respective interests).170
Cité Gécamines has become something else, a melting pot of different people with varied professions. This calm Cité, where life formerly ran its course to the tune of the factory siren, is today filled with makeshift restaurants and drinking outlets. Small-scale trade exists on each plot of land, and the facades of some Gécamines houses have been transformed to add an eating place or an extension for rent; the public taps, the legendary âmalatasâ, no longer work; the schools are in a dilapidated state; and only those with money can afford electricity and water, but even they have to accept the phenomenon of âload-sheddingâ (alternate distribution of electricity among several quarters). Cité Gécamines is truly a far cry from its former glory.171
Since the economic decline of mining, and especially after wages were no longer paid, workers had to start selling their houses or renting them out. The Cité was therefore no longer inhabited exclusively by employees of the company and lost its primary identity.172 The economic crises thus changed Cité Gécamines as a whole from an organised, controlled and well-maintained âenclaveâ inhabited by a homogeneous population to an uncontrolled district of the city of Lubumbashi.173 Its infrastructure has long been neglected.
The ODV s often emphasised the current lack of regulation and infrastructure in different contexts. âà lâépoqueâ a disinfection service regularly destroyed vermin and disease. Today, there are rats running around; there are many more mosquitoes and thus people suffering and dying from malaria. âà lâépoqueâ waste was collected and the water supply worked properly. These days, garbage is strewn everywhere and the narrow moats in Cité Gécamines transport waste and germs. âà lâépoqueâ the streets were policed and there was neither theft nor violence; today they are no longer safe. âà lâépoqueâ one knew the neighbours. Todayâs heterogeneous society means one cannot trust neighbours anymore; in addition, tribalism has spread. During my stay in August 2018 two murders by poisoning were reported in Cité Gécamines. I was told that this was the consequence of the lack of controlling forces and infrastructure in this
In this context, the system of the controlling bodies of the tshanga tshanga and malonda are noteworthy. The job of a worker defined where he and his family lived. The allocated housing was localised within the Cité, which was divided into different sections. The superior (tshanga tshanga) was responsible for the Cité, and his associates (malonda), were responsible for the sections. The term malonda could have its origins in the verb kulonda (to follow), from a neighbouring Bantu language.175 The malonda thus describes a person who follows things. In this context, he followed peopleâs actions: he was les yeux et les oreilles (the eyes and the ears) of the company.176 The malonda reported to the tshanga tshanga, who was chosen by the director of administration of the mining company, while the tshanga tshanga chose his malonda. Each malonda was responsible for one specific area within Cité Gécamines. The ODV s often referred to this system of control to explain the current security problems and perceived lack of moral values.
To better âguideâ Africans in the direction desired by the colonial administration, several controlling measures were taken. For instance, in 1944, the administration installed a special information service in Léopoldville. It launched a magazine called La Voix du Congolais, compiled by and for Congolese.177 The administration paid for it, but kept the right to keep a close eye on the content of the articles.178 Special library-cercles were created, in particular for the évolués. Lectures, conferences and debates were held to widen their horizons. Likewise, the UMHK created a system of social surveillance. The company established a network of informants who collected information on what was discussed among the African workers during work hours and time off. These informants were known to everyone. They were the malonda (police officers of the company) responsible for security in the labour camp.
Dibwe dia Mwembu cites a former malonda who started his services for the UMHK in 1940 and who describes his responsibilities:
| Thanks to my wisdom, he wanted me to be his malonda. I informed the supervisor of the cité [tshanga tshanga, DW] about everything that was going on in my neighbourhood during working hours. My wife, or her friends, helped to dissect the information. After work, I myself investigated with the help of friends and children. I received people from the neighbourhood at home with their problems and grievances; I decided on some disputes between the workers and reported to the supervisor of the city. Besides, I led my neighbourhood quite well. The information I gave to my bosses was always correct. |
Being a malonda was not only an assignment for the worker who was chosen by the tshanga tshanga but equally affected his family and friends. Although the tshanga tshanga and malonda were known to everybody, Dibwe dia Mwembu also reports on informants who were hired to work secretly.180 Those informants reported to the tshanga tshanga as well and received some money for their work.181 Dibwe dia Mwembu cites one of these covert informants who explained that the role was not only to denounce workersâ bad behaviour but also to impart information on workersâ dissatisfaction, for instance with their salary.182 This informant explained that, during a certain period, several complaints about salaries were reported to him and the company in the end raised the salaries as a result of the tshanga tshangaâs clarification of the problem. Another informant stated that he reported bad treatment by the âwhitesâ to the company and that this would have helped to âcivilise the Whitesâ.183 That informant mentioned that he was rewarded for these services by higher food
In 1966, Mwana Shaba published the request of a worker who was not satisfied with the way the malonda had solved the question of access to a banana tree in the garden of the house where he previously lived:
| Katika mji wa Kipushi, âChef de citéâ ana zoezi la kuleta nyumba ya vyumba viwili kwa baba wa jamaa ya watoto tatu. Kwa kuwa mie vile vile niko na watoto tatu, nilienda kuomba nyumba ya vyumba viwili na pasipo ubishi, nilipewa ile nyumba. Katika nyumba nilikuwa nakaa mbele, nimepanda-ako ndizi ambayo ilipamba na ilikuwa karibu ya kuiva lakini nikahama ile nyumba.
Siku moja nilikwenda katika ile nyumba kwa kutaka kukata ndizi yangu lakini yule aliingia katika ile nyumba sasa, akanikatalia kwa mie kutaka ile ndizi akisema ya kuwa, nilikwisha ondoka katika ile nyumba na sina tena haki ya kukata ile ndizi. Wakati tulikuwa tunabishana, malonda akafika na tukamueleza sababu ya ubishi wetu. Kiisha kumuelezea mambo yote malonda akampa yule aliyeingia sasa nyumbani sheria. Kwanza yule mtu hakujua hata wakati gani nilipanda ile ndizi. Sheria ambayo malonda ameleta kwa yule mtu ni ya kweli sawa vile alikata yale mambo? Bamba Remy Jospeh. N.D.L.R. Malonda alikata maneno vizuri kabisa. Haukuwa tena sharia hata kidogo ya kukamata matunda katika lipango ya nyumba ulikwisha kuondoka. Ile ndizi inakuwa ya mwenyi kuingia sasa nyumbani.184 |
In the city of Kipushi, the âchef de citéâ has the task of bringing a two-room house to a father of three children. Since I have three children, I went to ask for a two-room house, and without any controversy, I was offered the house. In the house I was living before I had planted a banana tree that was growing, but when it was finally grown up, I moved out of the house.
One day I went to that house to try to cut my bananas, but the one who moved into that house didnât allow me to cut the bananas, as I had left the house and therefore no longer had the right to cut the bananas. While we were arguing, the malonda came and we explained the reason for our dispute. After explaining everything, the malonda said that the new occupant of the house was right. The man didnât even know when I planted the banana. Was the malonda right in his judgement and the way he solved this issue? Bamba Remy Jospeh. N.D.L.R. The malondaâs words were right. You did not have the right at all to grab fruits around the house you had left. The banana now belongs to the one that moved into the house. |
However, the malonda of the respective section in the Cité was the one who had to be addressed by the workers for what the interviewees labelled as âsocial problemsâ; he was equally responsible for overseeing the distribution of the weekly food rations. In this request in Mwana Shaba, the workerâs dispute with the tenant of the house where the complainant used to live before was thus solved by the malonda. That the editor of Mwana Shaba confirmed the decision made by the malonda does not come as a big surprise, because the malonda had followed instructions by the tshanga tshanga who was chosen by the company. This example also illustrates that the company did not recognise legal pluralism at that time.185
The role of the tshanga tshanga and malonda was one of the main themes of a baraza dealing with various aspects of surveillance. During the baraza, I presented to the group the following four quotations from interviews years before in order to initiate a discussion about these controlling bodies:
|
|
Another participant added that this system of surveillance was very much appreciated, because â as the quotations from the interview already show â the workers felt that there had been order and discipline. My questions as to whether this instance ever triggered a feeling of being controlled were denied. The system with malonda and tshanga tshanga is conceived as a form of control that ensured a peaceful life in the Cité, which is not the case anymore. However, one participant added that the system worked so well because everybody was afraid of doing something wrong and people feared sanctions. Nevertheless, the controlling force of the tshanga tshanga had its limit. If one went outside of the Cité to another district of the city, nobody could report what one was doing there.
As one participant summarised: âEn dehors, ça câest une autre chose â(Outside, that is something different). However, most of the workers took their glass of beer in the evening in the cercle in the Cité, even though they were free to go to another district in town; the prices in the Gécamines were cheaper than elsewhere in the city.
Nevertheless, there was one aspect of the system that the participants of the baraza criticised: the company did not want to have family members beyond the core family staying with them in the Cité. Thus, visitors had to be preregistered with the tshanga tshanga and only then were family members allowed to visit for a few days; they were not allowed to live with the worker and his family for longer than those visiting days. âÃa nous faisait un peu malâ (That hurt us a bit), commented participants. Asked about any strategies of undermining the rule, Papa Maurice added that even if it hurt, there was no opposition possible, because one had this job; it was just like that, and one had to accept it. Another participant explained that when the UMHK was nationalised the company became less strict regarding family members staying with them.
The discussion on criteria that made a malonda an appreciated one â or not â circled around his ability to solve problems. All participants agreed that a good malonda was one who was able to provide them with good advice. A good malonda was a person one could address in case of problems, a person one could confide in. Thus, the malonda was perceived less as a controlling
In the past, Mr. Changa-Changa used to begin the year by sorting out disagreements that had arisen on New Yearâs day through drunkenness. This year, I am happy to see that we celebrated [lit.: laughed at] New Year without fighting, that we drank without mad drunkenness, that we rejoiced at this New Yearâs day in friendship. As a result we know that fighting from drunkenness and shouting from disagreements is worthless, that means we have made great progress.
RAPHAÃL SEBUTIMBIRI186
The members of the ODV also emphasised the tshanga tshangaâs role as a judge. He could impose penalties of one day, three days or five days in prison. If a worker received a penalty of five days twice, he had to leave the company and lost not only his job but also all the benefits that went with it, such as housing.
With the tshanga tshangaâs responsability for allocating housing to the workers came the power to demand discipline not only in the spatial sense within the Cité, but also in a moral sense for discipline in life in general. Thus, the ODV s often used the term âpère de travailâ (father of work) to characterise his role. It is noteworthy that in this way the participants discursively linked all aspects of the tshanga tshanga with work, even the role also strongly influenced their private lives. I therefore asked myself where the boundaries between private and working life lie when living and leisure activities are considered part of work â boundaries that are of course a result of industrialisation in the 19th century, in Europe and elsewhere.
One participant explained that although the malonda was concerned about everything that happened in the Cité, he did not get involved in disputes between couples. Problems of that kind were discussed with the chef de kabila (tribal chief). If a couple divorced, the tshanga tshanga had to be informed, because a change in marital status and family size affected the housing permit. The participants thus argued that information that was public was transmitted to the tshanga tshanga, whereas information that was considered private did
[Batumbula are] recognisable in popular paintings by their coat, their hat, their torch and their dark glasses â to kidnap men and women in remote places and to confine them in some prison (pit, cellar, attic, etc.). There, victims are fattened with salt until they see hairs growing on their body and they turn into pigs. Unless they put them into cans, White people, along with their guests, will consume them at Easter, Christmas or New Year.188
seem to offer an allegorical comment on various aspects of urban life such as work hierarchy, camp discipline, the symbolic power of dress and the politics of marriage. Today, the old still pass on memories of the White ogre to younger generations, saying that they themselves only just escaped seizure by his subordinates.189
Comme le camp de lâUMHK était séparé de la cite Kamalondo par une brousse où, croyait-on, se cachaient les batumbula, la peur dâêtre capturé la nuit par ces derniers a eu un effet bénéfique dans la mesure où nombreux étaient les travailleurs qui préféraient se contenter de ce que leur offrait le cercle récréatif, pouvant ainsi regagner leur logis le plus tôt possible, vers vingt et une heure.191
As the UMHK camp was separated from Kamalondo by a bush where the batumbula were believed to be hiding, the fear of being captured by the batumbula at night had a beneficial effect in so far as many workers preferred to make do with what was offered to them in the recreational circle, thus being able to return to their homes as soon as possible, around 9 p.m.
Dibwe dia Mwembu further describes that the batumbula significantly contributed to the rhythm of the night of workers and families. Not only were the streets deserted, but after 9 p.m. they used pots instead of toilets outside the houses for fear of the batumbula. Children were no longer allowed to play outside and the residents sang: Wasipo kwako, ende mu pori, bakamutumbule kiko batumbula! (Whoever does not have a family home should go into the bush to be captured by the batumbula).192
The ODV s confirmed that the batumbula were still active. However, their power was diminished because, as the participants pointed out, thefts and violence at night were constantly increasing in Cité Gécamines. The ODV s miss the rigid, controlling system that offers security.
The nostalgia for a strict system of control in Cité Gécamines is also evident in the context of the ex-workersâ explanation for the increase in violence as a result of ethnic conflicts. In this context, the importance of the tshanga tshanga was emphasised. The tshanga tshanga had the explicit duty to mix workers of different origin in order to build âa deracinated African communityâ
Dibwe dia Mwembu reports on one of his interview partners who also describes peaceful coexistence nostalgically:
| Nous vivions [â¦] en harmonie comme les enfants dâune même famille. Nous étions comme une même tribu. Dâailleurs, le problème de tribu ne se posait pas.194 | We lived [â¦] in harmony like children of the same family. We were like one tribe. Moreover, the problem of tribe did not emerge. |
The fact that workers and workersâ families lived together left its mark on the terminology used to describe the housing situation. For instance, those sharing a house (les maisons jumeleés) talked about their neighbours as ndugu ya musalani, referring to the one with whom they shared the wall of the toilet, or about their ndugu ya nyumba (sister/brother of the house), referring to the one with whom they shared a duplex house.195
Another term used was kambolokoni, which referred to a single room for single men; the term also describes bowls with a specific smell that were put into the urinal.196
Hönke and Fetter argue that two authorities maintained the âtotalitarian subcultureâ in workersâ settlements.197 First, the âcompound headâ, responsible for discipline maintenance â the tshanga tshanga â and second, the â[Catholic] teacher preacher responsible for morals and learningâ.198 In spatial terms, the labour settlements were isolated from other African districts with the idea âto isolate the bubble of social order made by industrial production and a particular regulatory regime of discipline and control from a social environment represented by Europeans as âhostileâ and âdisorderlyââ.199
Vellut describes the interlocking tasks of the tshanga tshanga and the religious representatives as follows:
| [The] Union Minière conceived its camps on the basis of ethnic mixture. The company wanted to create a new tribe in its camps, that of tshanga tshanga (âto mix everythingâ), united by the same spirit. Bishop de Hemptinne, head of the Catholic Church in Elisabethville, said however that it was above all necessary to create âthe parish of tshanga-tshangaâ. |
The tshanga tshanga, who chose the place of residence and controlled the area, served as a kind of caretaker who provided security and thus stability in daily life. Papa Bruno pointed out: âDepuis 2003, on a le sentiment dâêtre abandonné, on est des esclaves même quand on nâa plus de travailâ (Since 2003 we have the feeling of being neglected, we are slaves, even though we donât have work anymore). From the perception of the workers, slavery was thus no longer linked to work but to the lack of it.
Cité Gécamines was a unity in every respect: the inhabitants were known, everything was controlled and everything could be named. It offered stability in spatial terms. Stability was also a key aspect of the ODV sâ work. Although it is surprising to hear Papa Bruno speaking of joblessness as slavery, one has to pay close attention to the context to understand his point of view. In becoming jobless, workers/men lost what they regarded as their freedom, financial security, family, communities and social status, social ties, prestige, gendered roles, masculinity and especially the sense of respect/honour, heshima.
2 Heshima
Among the ODV s, heshima (respect) meant many things: firstly, recognition by the company for the work done in the form of wages and social benefits such as health care and food rations; secondly, the appreciation of their families, because through the work their needs â and perhaps more â were met; thirdly, social appreciation in the form of prestige because they were a member of the âUMHK familyâ and did work that was important. ODV s who used to hold a senior staff position in particular raised the last point, while both blue-collar workers and senior staff members expressed a sense of appreciation in
2.1 Papa Paul
Papa Paul managed various hospitals in the course of his professional life and had been in a managerial position since the beginning. He first worked for the government and was in charge of a hospital. Then he was hired by Gécamines in Bukeya and was responsible for a hospital with 300 patients. Although the beginning of his career dates back more than 40 years, Papa Paul remembers every detail and date.
He explained that when he was first employed by UMHK as a hospital manager, the doctor in charge there was a German who lived with the âreligiousâ (the nuns or brothers). Papa Paul was married at the time he got this job and he explained that the company immediately declared it would build a house for him and his family. Because the builders worked from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. every day, his house was ready after only one and a half months. He told me that he felt respected because, although Gécamines decided what kind of house he would get, he was able to express his wishes.
For example, he was asked where he wanted the doors. Papa Paul described in detail his considerations at the time, such as not wanting to go through the kitchen to take a shower, and asking for bigger windows, a veranda and an additional kitchen outside. Recalling the construction of this house, he sighed and pointed out that at that time all tasks were done immediately and that the companyâs service was fantastic. However, he was aware of the fact that he was privileged compared to the workers, as he had the opportunity to decide on the appearance and structure of his house.
Papa Paul then showed me maps from 1977 with the houses to be built for workers in the Cité. Among other things, he was responsible for the hygienic standards of the accommodation. Using these maps, he explained to me the different types of houses for different types of workers and illustrated this by explaining that with each promotion in the job came a move to a new house.
Later, Papa Paul got a new job in Likasi, where he was given a seven-bedroom house. He worked there for three years and was responsible for occupational medicine, a new field at that time for both him and the company. He was then sent to Kakanda to manage the UMHK health sector. There were problems with a âCongolese doctorâ who was the successor of a âwhite manâ. What started as a three-month work assignment in an urgent crisis turned into a long-term position of 14 years.
He then worked in Kipushi for a few months, staying in a guesthouse on weekdays and going home on weekends. The company paid for the transport. In 1992, he finally moved to Lubumbashi to take up a new position as head of a hospital. In Lubumbashi, the company gave him the choice between two already existing houses. He explained that he had chosen this house because it was not a maison à étage.201 He argued that he was afraid that in old age he would no longer be able to climb the stairs, even though, as he said, the houses of the upper class would be maisons à étage (two-storey houses), because this
Papa Paul also explained to me in detail the system of the property bonus that workers received from the mining company. Initially, workers would have received this bonus after eight years of service, but the union managed to get the bonus paid after only four years. Therefore, as Papa Paul stated, there was money every four years to upgrade something in the house. When I asked him what the most important thing in the house was to keep it up to date, he mentioned the armchairs in the living room; after all, he stressed, it was important to receive visitors properly.
Papa Paul lost his employment on 9 January 2004. At that time, four people were still living in his household. And he explained that he had some time to prepare for these changes in life, because it did not come as a surprise. He was now the owner of this house and decided to commission an architect to remodel and extend the boyerie, which was empty at the time, as the domestic staff and gardener had left. He expanded the boyerie with a living room, one bedroom, an additional toilet and a kitchen. Every month he and the architect had sat together and calculated the costs to determine what could be done with the remaining money from his savings.
Papa Paulâs actual house was rented out and served as the new source of income. His first tenant was a Congolese who was building his house and needed accommodation during the construction period. After that, a Polish citizen rented Papa Paulâs house for a period of eight years until his job assignment was finished. The following tenant was an American woman, and nowadays the house is rented by a non-governmental organisation.
Papa Paul explained that since he started to rent out his house, he and his family lived in the extended boyerie, with enough space, although it was far less comfortable and luxurious than before. He remembered the moment of moving out of the house into the boyerie as a very difficult moment. The two children still living at home were especially unhappy. It was, as Papa Paul pointed out, difficult because the house was the symbol of the prestige he enjoyed with the company, even though he had bought the house from the company over the years. The house was the symbol of the position he used to hold. With the move to the boyerie, the symbol of his professional career was immediately lost, which also implied the loss of his social heshima. He finds comfort in knowing
Blue-collar workers were less likely to cite their job duties as a source of pride, but emphasised that they were proud of the income and benefits they received from their work. Often, they also pointed out the mposho (the food rations) and the possibility of being a parent who could educate their children. However, senior staff members also saw their workplace as a place where they could contribute to the development of the company or improve conditions for other workers, such as Papa Paul, who managed hospitals and improved the health services in many ways. Therefore, the loss of the job had an even greater impact on Papa Paulâs self-esteem.
2.2 Papa Laurent
Papa Laurent was born in 1948 in the province of Kivu, where he went to school before moving to Kinshasa to study economics and finance at university. He explained that he got a job at Gécamines immediately after finishing his studies, on 6 November 1974, which he remembers exactly, as well as all the other dates related to his working life. He explained that he had not looked for this job but that the company had reached out to him and that was why he accepted. On 6 August 1976 he was transferred to Lubumbashi. In the beginning, he was accommodated in a guest house for a short time until the company could provide him with a house that was appropriate for his position in the finance department of the company. The house was located in Makomeno, the neighbourhood for senior staff. In September 1976, he moved into the house where he still lives today.
When he moved into this house as a bachelor, it was a bachelorâs house divided into four smaller flats. Papa Laurent married in 1978 and in 1984 the company converted the house into a maison jumélée, with two flats. After the couple had two children, he applied for a bigger house, but at that time there was no suitable house available in Makomeno. Therefore, the company decided to convert the house into a four-bedroom detached house. Today he is the owner of the house (purchased through monthly deductions from the salary) and the only interviewee who had not built an annex to rent out for extra income. He explained that he was lucky that he had found another job (and was therefore still working despite his age), as was his wife, so they were still doing well financially, although much worse than before 2003. His account of the past therefore also reveals a sense of nostalgia, especially in terms of finances and security, but also in terms of the companyâs general attitude towards looking after its employees.
At the end of each year, if an employeeâs performance had been satisfactory, the company gave out a cotation, a positive grade; accumulating several positive grades led to a higher classification and thus a higher salary. Papa Laurent explained that times became difficult from the 1990s onwards because wages were paid irregularly. However, as he mentioned, he continued to work normally, because he wanted to be there and do his job, even without pay. He felt responsible for others; his position meant everything to him.
When we talked about Makomeno, Papa Laurent said that this neighbourhood was very well organised and maintained until the late 1980s. For instance, there was a waste collection service and the service dâhygiène, which came on a regular basis to disinfect houses to combat mosquitoes, and there was electricity. Not only from a health perspective, but also in terms of the demographic structure, he was nostalgic for the earlier times: âCâétait un quartier très calme, que des agents et les domestiquesâ (It was a very quiet neighbourhood, there were only workers and domestic servants). He explained that in the well-organised times, every visitor had to register: âCâétait bien organisé le quartier ici. On était dans la sécurité. La garde faisait la patrouilleâ (The neighbourhood here was well organised. We were safe. Guards used to go on patrol). But things began to decline in the 1980s, when everything was gradually neglected. Papa Laurent explained that selling the houses to the workers was one of the many reasons why the situation in Makomeno started to change. The company sold the houses to the workers because the maintenance was a very expensive undertaking and the houses had to be renovated regularly. However, Papa Laurent indicated, selling the houses as private property was the turning point in terms of security.
The company was no longer able to control who visited the houses and who sold them,. âLe quartier est devenu le quartier de tout le mondeâ (The neighbourhood has become everyoneâs neighbourhood). By âeveryoneâ, Papa Laurent meant those who were not workers or domestic servants and therefore did not feel bound by the norms and rules that prevailed when Makomeno was a residential area for only Gécaminesâ employees. Since this change, lamented Papa Laurent, nothing could be done if a neighbour did not keep their house and property clean. And one could not prevent them from building annexes on their plots.
Non-material benefits, such as leisure activities, were also among the things Papa Laurent missed. He explained how well the cercles were maintained, how much he appreciated the possibility to go out for food or drinks, his enjoyment of sports activities and going to the cinema with his wife. He specified that he especially liked the cinema nights because the movies were for senior staff members only (âpas des mineures, pas dâenfantsâ â no minors, no children) and thus allowed an evening among equals and a feeling of luxury that one deserved.
Papa Laurent was also very pleased with the schools and hospitals, which he considered to be of very high quality. This laid the foundation for the successful lives of his children. Eight of them later entered university and became successful in their lives. One son still lives with his parents, as he was born with Downâs syndrome. Papa Laurent emphasised that the companyâs hospital also offered very good specialists for children with special needs. Those times, when human beings were respected, were now gone.
2.3 Mama Marie
Mama Marie, a former senior staff member, was born in 1949 in Kipushi as one of six children of parents who were both working for the UMHK. She had a childhood typical of a workerâs child and attended the school that was provided by the mining company. Her mother left while she was a child, so she grew up with her father and siblings. She would have liked to study but it was difficult because of financial and family issues. She therefore started her professional career in 1967 after her compulsory schooling:
| Jâai commencé dâabord par être formée. Par être formée ici aux usines pendant disons trois mois, en dactylographie. Jâai mon attestation comme une dactylographe, jâavais terminé avec trente-six mots à la minute. | I started by being trained first. By being trained here in the factories for let us say three months, in typing. I have my certificate as a typist; I finished with thirty-six words per minute. |
| M : Câétait alors que je suis rentrée. Je suis rentrée maintenant au service du personnel de Kipushi.
DW : Ah vous étiez// M : //du groupe. Jâai été affectée comme secrétaire. Toute en étant première femme noire. Et cela mâa donné un peu de choix. Jâai accepté de travailler là -bas. Jâai travaillé, les gens venaient me regarder à la fenêtre âEh mwanamke mweusi ananapiga machine!â. Jâavais (.) jâétais très fière. |
M: It was then that I came back. I then returned to the staff in Kipushi.
DW: Ah you were // M: // of the group. I was assigned as secretary. While being the first black woman. And that gave me a little choice. I agreed to work there. I worked, people came to watch me at the window âEh, the black woman is typing the machine!â. I had (.) I was very proud. |
With the sentence âAnd that gave me some choiceâ she refers to the financial scope she had thanks to her employment. She did not want to marry at that time, she explained, and thus wished to earn her own money. In fact, she had no wish to marry at all, even though she later married and became a mother of five children. She said that her husband had kept an eye on her since school and since then had tried her to convince to marry him. With the decision not to study, but to start working, Mama Marie was also supporting the higher education of two of her brothers. She expressed her pride that by working for the UMHK she was able to provide for her brothersâ education. Talking about one of them, she said:
| Mais comme il nây avait pas moyens que je rentre aux études, jâavais un petit frère qui venait après moi, jâai préféré supporter les études de mon petit frère qui malheureusement est mort. Il fût ingénieur. Il était en Europe, en Suisse là -bas, il est sorti avec cinq diplômes. | But as there was no way I could go back to study, I had a little brother who came after me, so I preferred to support the studies of my little brother who unfortunately died. He was an engineer. He was in Europe, in Switzerland over there; he accumulated five degrees. |
| [à Kipushi] Jâavais eu aussi une grande maison, à travers mon mari on avait une petite maison. Comme jâai travaillé au service du personnel, le service qui a distribué les maisons, avec mon influence, nous avons eu une grande maison. | [In Kipushi] I also had a big house, through my husband we had a small house. As I worked in the human resources department, the department that distributed the houses, with my influence, we had a big house. |
In 1978, the family moved to Lubumbashi because Mama Marieâs supervisor took a new position and wanted her to join and continue to work for the HR department; her husband got a position in the electrical department that serviced the plants. Since then she had been living in the house where she welcomed me several times. Despite the fact that her house is located in Cité Gécamines, it is one of the luxurious larger houses for Congolese executives who were not allocated flats in Makomeno at the time. The house has three bedrooms and a living room.
Mama Marie loved her job because she liked her position as secretary in management, which was full of responsibilities and not only offered her many contacts but also opened her eyes to the outside world:
| Jâaimais le travail parce que ça mâa beaucoup donné disons lâouverture vers le monde extérieur, dâabord le monde de lâentourage, jâavais des relations, et puis dans la famille avec cet argent jâai formé les neveux, les cousins, etc. | I loved the work because it has given me a lot, letâs say, the opening to the outside world, first the world around me; I had connections, and then in the family, with this money I earned, I paid for the professional training of nephews, cousins, etc. |
She also expressed that her earnings enabled the education of those family members outside the nuclear family who could not benefit from the schooling offered by the mining company because they were not children of UMHK/
Since there is no work in this region today, her firstborn moved to Malawi, where he found work. Her second-born son is an engineer based in Kinshasa. Her first daughter became a dressmaker, another one a nurse. Her youngest son became a carpenter and was working for a Chinese company in Mbuji Maji. Mama Marieâs children, cousins and nephews got a good education that, as she expressed: âCâest ce qui mâas fait la fierté dâêtre femme travailleuseâ (That is what made me proud to be a woman who had a job). Mama Marie often referred to herself as femme travailleuse to express in a rather moderate, but no less serious way, that she was the one who was the main breadwinner of the household. However, she also talked about her leisure activities. Like Papa Paul, Mama Marie not only held a senior position but was equally a proud sports person during leisure time. She was a member of the female soccer team of the company and expressed her joy in playing, as well as her joy in having a drink afterwards:
| Nous avons joué au football, nous avions une équipe de la Gécamines Lubumbashi et de la Gécamines Kipushi. Dans les concours que nous avons préparés nous-mêmes, nous les avons joués à Kipushi, si nous gagnions, nous avions encore une chance. Ensuite, nous sommes allés prendre un verre au Cercle. | We played football, we had a team from Gécamines Lubumbashi and Gécamines Kipushi. In the competitions, which we organised ourselves, we played in Kipushi; if we won, we still had a chance. Afterwards we went to the Circle for a drink. |
Talking about her children, she explained that all her children were born in the maternity clinic in Kipushi. This topic initiated an extensive discussion by Mama Marie of the excellent healthcare services in the former days. She explained that the healthcare facilities closely monitored child development during the first five years with regular health checks and a vaccination programme. If the mothers missed these consultations they were punished. Mama Marie was very happy with this procedure. âOn doit avoir tous les vaccins. Là , en tout cas, la Gécamines nous a bien soignéâ (We were expected to have all the vaccinations. Gécamines treated us well). Given her current health status â she is suffering from cancer and lacks adequate treatment â it comes as no surprise that her nostalgia emphasises the former provision of healthcare.
Mama Aiméeâs narrative showed how she adapted impressively to the new circumstances that came with the economic decline. She was in her fifties, and I went to meet her for the second time in August 2018. I had interviewed her for the first time the year before. Mama Aimée grew up in the Gécamines and had spent almost all her life here. As she said, she experienced the rise and fall of the living and housing conditions of the workers of Gécamines. As a child, she benefited from the infrastructure provided by the company. She summarised her childhood memories as well as the memories of her early adult life with the same words everybody else used: âCâétait bien à lâépoque!â
It was on one of those dry days in August 2018, with a pitiless heat around noon and a wind that blew the red dust through the unpaved alleys of Cité Gécamines, that Mama Aimée warmly welcomed me. We sat down in her office to get some shade and find a quiet place to talk. Continuously, assistants, friends, family members or acquaintances stopped by, curious about the visitor. I never walked through those alleys without being noticed.
A few years earlier, Mama Aimée had founded an NGO to take care of the most vulnerable children: those whose fathers were mineworkers but whose mothers were not official wives, women who often were les petites femmes (here understood as prostitutes). These children (and of course their mothers) have suffered most from the decline of the mining sector and the resulting financial difficulties. They often lack a stable social environment and the financial means to attend school. For Mama Aimée, these children are une bombe à retardement (a ticking time bomb) for society if they are not well taken care of. She fights against future vandals, thieves and rapists, as she describes the scenario, by providing what she calls âhomeâ, a place to sleep, meals, education and, most importantly, affection and attention.
She was also successful in raising funds to employ herself and others to run the NGO. That Mama Aimée runs this NGO at all, that she possesses management and accounting knowledge, that she was able to open a bank account, is far from self-evident. Only when she was already a mother of four did she insist (despite the social pressure of her husbandâs family) on getting her degree. She dreamed of having a good job with responsibilities. The moment of her graduation was the beginning of the economic crisis of Gécamines. Her husband, a Gécamines worker, was affected, like thousands of others, by irregular payments in the 1990s. Their situation became financially precarious. Mama Aimée described how they started to sell everything at least partly valuable so that the family would have something to eat. They first sold the wall clock and the television, then furnishings, then even the beds and mattresses; only
To have a bit more privacy for our discussion and to avoid the constant flow of visitors, Mama Aimée guided me out of her office into her house to show me every room. Her office is an annex towards the street in front of her house which was expanded on all sides and now stands in the middle of the property. A huge room for a sewing school she opened is located between the office and her husbandâs private rooms. Their bedroom is small and dark, every corner filled with personal belongings and clothes, and the couple share this room with five cats. There is another bedroom, the bigger one, where the children of the NGO sleep. We continued to the living room, carefully decorated and well-furnished with a sofa. Mama Aimée told me that normally she would have invited me to sit here for our conversation, but as there was a power cut on that day, it was a bit too dark. She therefore suggested that we go back to her office, which she felt was almost as suitable for receiving her guest as the living room.
In 2003, within the context of the Opération Départ Volontaire, Mama Aiméeâs husband received compensation totalling USD 2,500. This sum was a drop in a bucket in comparison to what her husband would have earned if he had continued working. Mama Aimée described the moment when they finally had some money again. While her description of their situation at that time, all sleeping on cardboard, was on my mind, I asked her if she could remember what things they first bought with this money. Mama Aimée answered: âa sofa and two armchairsâ. The money was spent as follows: USD 2,000 on the most important things, such as furnishings; USD 500 as an investment to start her project.
Although she felt ashamed that they were sleeping on cardboard, and she knew that many others were sharing the same experience, she explained that it was most important to have a living room to finally be able to welcome guests again, to be guardians of heshima. Being a welcoming family was not only a matter of societal norms but also important to her to demonstrate her ability as homemaker, as she stressed, regardless of the fact that she was the one largely financing the family with her activities. This takes me to gender roles and the third object of loss, identity.
3 Gender Roles and Identity
Ãtre gécaminois (to be a [worker at] Gécamines) is, as I have outlined, the essence of everything that unites the ODV s, the working life they had, the life they lost and the experiences and memories they share. This applied across
3.1 Masculinity
One of the workersâ main concerns was often mentioned only implicitly: their current inability to fulfil what was socially regarded as male norms and behavioural patterns. Their perceptions of work were strongly linked to their understanding of masculinity. The benefits and privileges granted to the workers and their wives were shaped by assumptions regarding their respective gender roles.
Several generations of Katangese boys grew up with the idea that, in order to be recognised and treated as real men, it was absolutely essential for them to get access to paid work, or kazi. They were taught that menâs dignity and respectability depended to a very large extent on their ability to secure the livelihoods of their household members.202
When I refer to the term masculinity, I do not intend to open up a discussion on gender in general but am referring to a âcluster(s) of norms, values and behavioural patterns expressing explicit and implicit expectations of how men should act and represent themselves to othersâ.203 Here, I limit this aspect to the participantsâ subjectivities and thus to the discourse on norms, values and behavioural patterns as expressed by them.
During a baraza on surveillance and control, the participants told me that their leisure time on workdays was usually between 6 p.m. and 10:30 p.m. They described this not by using the term âleisureâ, but as le temps pour sâamuser (time to enjoy yourself), stating that they spent most of this time in Cité Gécamines and less than 20% of this time in other parts of the city. Considering that leisure activities were provided in the social centres and the cercle, I wondered what kind of activities they enjoyed outside. I did not get an answer until finally a woman in another group discussion started to complain that âin the good old timesâ many men had relationships with other women outside. In that rather emotional discussion, it turned out that men did agree on that point and one participant stated: âAvoir deux femmes câétait presque la mode.
âEasyâ in that context meant that they had the economic power to sustain relationships outside the boundaries of the life provided by the company. During the companyâs prosperous years, it tried to prevent relationships with women other than wives through their measures against parasitism,204 and by promoting the duties of wives, such as providing their husbands with a pleasant home that would prevent them from having extramarital sexual relations elsewhere. However, workers did have the financial means for extramarital relationships prior to 2003 and therefore many workers, as was repeatedly emphasised during the baraza, did take advantage of the possibility of a deuxième bureau (literally a âsecond officeâ, or second woman). As a female participant commented, the âother womanâ was the other side of the coin that the wives accepted, because the husbands provided them with a good life and a house. The menâs object of loss today is therefore not only the option of being able to afford a deuxième bureau but also the threat to their notion of masculinity, because, as the male participants explained, relationships with other women were also a matter of prestige.
Cuvelier analysed work and masculinity among young artisanal mineworkers in contemporary Katanga. Within the group of men from the same social class, he observed two trends of masculinity practices. Firstly, the attempts to become a distinct social group in order to distinguish themselves from other men in Katanga, and secondly, the workersâ awareness of differences among themselves, which led to the development of their âown styles of masculinityâ and their âown ways of dealing with the masculinity idealsâ.205 In this way, both blue-collar workers and senior officials came together, as départs volontaires, in their nostalgia.
Moreover, unlike Cuvelierâs description â namely, becoming a distinct social group â the ODV s did not exhibit what Cuvelier calls masculinity practices, such as rude language, a preference for expensive clothes and generally visible signs of what they would consider masculine. However, the ODV s stressed that they suffered from the loss of what they associated with masculinity: not being able to provide for their families, no longer competing in sports, not being able to have a beer with their male friends after work and the financial freedom to enjoy the pleasures of life, one of them being extramarital affairs.
The loss of income affected other areas that the ODV s linked to their role as men. As many of them said they now depended financially on the income of
Workers associated the concept of masculinity with that of pride. Above all, the job had offered them an identity as a member of the company, regardless of whether they were blue-collar workers or senior members of staff. Whereas blue-collar workers usually highlighted the benefits of being a worker, such as the income, the ability to educate their children and access to food rations, senior members of staff referred to work as a place where they were able to participate in the development of the company. This conception of work, security, pride and masculinity is contradictory to the roles that were assigned to most women in this context. The last section of this chapter throws light on the well-calculated expectations of domesticity placed on women by the company and the mineworkers.
3.2 Womenâs Roles and Agency
The role of women, especially in relation to domesticity, was shaped by the colonial authorities and the UMHK/Gécamines, and controlled as a strategy to maintain the productivity of workers. Even so, domesticity gave agency to women. Womenâs roles were presented and discussed by the ODV s, and are the basis for the reference point for men and women today when they look back to the âgood old daysâ.
Women were of crucial importance to the productivity of the workers. While they were a danger to that productivity, on the other hand they ensured it. The colonial authorities were generally concerned about the role of women and thus their influence on husbands and men, and on the hygienic conditions of their home, as the following quotation, referring to Franceâs governmental concerns in Senegal, shows:
| Je crois que le facteur qui freine lâévolution du fonctionnaire africain est la femme. Il y a en général un décalage trop important entre lâinstruction et lâéducation de lâhomme et de la femme. Cela se traduit dans la vie matérielle de | I believe that the factor that hinders the evolution of the African civil servant is the woman. In general, there is too great a gap between the education and training of men and women. This is blatant in material |
Lâéducation ménagère de la plupart de femmes de nos fonctionnaires reste à faire. Un logement de fonctionnaire célibataire est presque toujours parfaitement propre ; dès quâil se marie le désordre et surtout la saleté risquent dâentrer chez lui.207 |
life: for example, we will see simultaneously a husband who graduated from a prestigious federal school, with an open mind, excelling in his job, and a wife sprinkling the walls of her home with sprays of cola-flavoured saliva.
The housekeeping education of most of the wives of our civil servants is still needed. A single civil servantâs home is almost always perfectly clean; as soon as he gets married, disorder and above all dirt is likely to enter his home. |
As this French commander stated, with regard to Senegal in 1952, women had to be educated because otherwise a house would not be clean and safe for an official to live in. Thus, she was a danger to workersâ wellbeing.
Secondly, the Belgian colonial state and the UMHK considered women important because they played a central role in maintaining a healthy and thus productive workforce. It was therefore essential not only to control the actual workforce, the workers, during work and leisure time, but equally to educate and constant surveille the women. In this way, they were assigned different roles, spatially and socially, on three intertwined levels â the Belgiansâ idea(l) of the nuclear family and middle-class life, moral standards, and health, all of which were important pillars of workersâ productivity.
3.2.1 Nuclear Family/Middle-Class Life
The nuclear family as the second anchor in a workerâs life (besides the work) became relevant after the UMHK concluded that male workers would be more reliable if they got married and became parents. From the 1930s, the company and the colonial administration actively engaged in supporting the marriage of single workers208 and consulted rural kinfolk to find a spouse.209 After the
The choice of wife was controlled, in that marriages between partners of the same origin were preferred, as Perrings shows: âWhere for example men attempted to contract marriages with women of another tribe, the compound managers would refuse to register or recognize the unions, and would not therefore provide either housing or supplementary rationsâ.211
In addition, workers were advised to have a civil and church wedding. The companyâs policy was to promote life-long monogamous marriages, not only to be in line with Christian norms but also to deter men from taking another wife. Polygyny was to be avoided and controlling mechanisms were established. This policy was supported by the colonial administration âwhich taxed the economic activities of single women in cities and took measures to eradicate the practice of polygamy (Hunt 1991).â212
At the end of the colonial period, more and more children born to workers married among themselves. Therefore, there was no more need to search for partners from the villages. Rubbers notes that girls who grew up in Cité Gécamines had a good reputation because they were well educated, and â[i]n contrast with village women, they could speak some words of French, iron clothes, or cook some European food. They were âévoluéesâ (âcivilizedâ women) who could share the âmodernâ lifestyle to which these educated men aspired.â213 The women equally appreciated marrying a worker because his wage work promised a comfortable life. By that time, in economic prosperity, workers and their families benefited from the employer who took care of all aspects of life.
In order to place the concept of the nuclear family at the centre of the organisation of a life that corresponded to Belgian ideology, all the traditions brought by the workers from the villages had to be, if not completely eradicated, then at least controlled. In the annual reports of the Département M.O.I.
| Ce nâest que petit à petit, par une inlassable propagande éducative que nous pourrons définitivement éliminer ces situations anormales. Il faut aussi espérer que le Gouvernement donnera suite au vÅu [sic] exprimé par le Conseil de Gouvernement â Session 1948 â de voir interdire progressivement la polygamie dans les centres extra-coutumiers.214 | It is only little by little, by tireless educational propaganda, that we can definitively eliminate these abnormal situations. It is also hoped that the Government will respond to the wish expressed by the Governing Council â Session 1948 â to progressively ban polygamy in extra-customary centres. |
The âabnormalâ existence of several wives was not in line with the companyâs idea(l) of the nuclear family. In addition, bigamy â and extramarital relationships in general â constituted a financial problem. Because workers acknowledged the â according to Europeansâ perspective â illegitimate children, they demanded the same rights with respect to housing, education and food rations for these children and their mothers as were granted for the official wife and children. In the annual report of 1947, the UMHKâs financial concerns were explicitly verbalised and they emphasised the important status of the nuclear family.215
The UMHK and its successor actively promoted the nuclear family and womenâs intended roles and responsibilities, most of all by the education offered to women in the foyers sociaux (social centres). They were, as Hunt describes, âa colonial project to revise and refashion gender roles, family life, and domestic space enacted by European nuns and social workers and African women within classrooms, households, and an African urban communityâ.216
The foyers sociaux were not specific to the UMHK but had already been introduced by the colonial state in the 1920s.217 Courses offered to workersâ wives focused on domesticity in all its facets. This ensured a clean house, a
| Dans les sièges de Panda et de M.P.I : les ouvroirs sont dirigés par les Révérendes Soeurs de la Charité. Les fillettes de nos travailleurs y reçoivent un enseignement ménager et des leçons de couture. Au camp de Lubumbashi, lâouvroir est surveillé par une dame. Cette Åuvre est très populaire et les fillettes sây rendent volontiers.218 | In the Panda and M.P.I. sites: the workshops are directed by the Reverend Sisters of Charity. The daughters of our workers receive housekeeping and sewing lessons. At the Lubumbashi camp, the workshop is supervised by a lady. This workshop is very popular and the girls attend voluntarily. |
On the following page of this report is a detailed overview of the types of clothing the girls had sewn in the course of this workshop. For instance, in Jadotville in 1938: 326 workshop overalls, 3,109 trousers for mineworkers, 3,350 capitulas (shorts) for workers, 2,630 coats for mineworkers, 222 blouses for hospital staff, 1,180 hospital shirts, 225 pillowcases, 504 mattress toppers, 250 uniform dresses and 212 skirts.219 The girls who attended these sewing classes thus worked for the company, sewing the different types of clothing that the mining company needed and making an economic contribution to it while being trained.
The report further reveals that the UMHK considered only the older girls, who already knew how to sew, as the efficient ones. They were âpaidâ by being given the food ration entitled to an adult woman:
| Ce sont les grandes jeunes filles qui interviennent évidemment le plus dans cette fabrication importante. Elles sont dâailleurs rémunérées pour le travail quâelles fournissent et touchent une ration de femme adulte.220 | It is the older girls who are obviously most involved in this important production. They are also paid for their work and receive an adult womanâs ration. |
Social workers made regular surprise visits to each household, checking that the house was well-ventilated, that beds were made, or that children were clean: if their report was positive, the hostess got a reward; if not, the company summoned her husband to take sanction against him. According to some informants, this control was particularly strict with the members of the Main-dâoeuvre indigène/civilisée (the category of âcivilizedâ employees) and, immediately after independence in 1960, future Congolese managers. Destined to leave the mining camp for managerial villas, the latter had to develop a lifestyle matching up with their future professional status, beginning with the house.222
Not only regular surprise visits of homes, but also contests for the most beautiful house, funded by the colonial urban authorities in the 1950s, were meant to âencourage residents of the African urban quarters to decorate their homes according to European tastesâ.223 That ânot women but married couples entered these contestsâ (ibid.) demonstrates that the European idea(l) of a marital relationship was also enforced through housing.
The provision of housing was a prominent topic in a propaganda film produced by the UMHK in 1956 to celebrate its 50th anniversary.224 The film described in detail the benefits of working for the company. These ranged from flying in recruited workers, to the educational system, evening courses, health services and leisure activities. Key topics advertised, besides housing included the companyâs educational programmes: from kindergarten to primary school, to vocational training for the men, driving lessons and evening courses. to courses especially designed for the workersâ wives covering all aspects of a womanâs life â according to the colonial perception â childcare, shoe shining, sewing and ironing ties.
In this way, workers and their families were conditioned according to the Belgian ideal of middle-class life. This can be seen, for example, in the description of a typical Sunday. Very similar to Sundays in Europe, it was stated that
[c]olonial commentators thought women in the cities were floundering, disoriented, vulnerable, and corruptible due to idleness, excessive leisure, and a void of custom. The notion that the moral authority of customary culture did not extend to urban centers was ubiquitous in Belgian Colonial discourse.228
Two years before the colonial statesâ 10-year plan for the development of the colony was published,229 the layout of an ideal family home started to be discussed by the UMHK, as in colonial publications, interweaving technical aspects with moral values. In the annual report of 1947, for instance, the UMHK briefly mentions the ideal family home under the section âhousingâ, where more technical issues were usually presented. In this annual report, the company explained the advantages of the newly adapted family houses, improved
| Si on obtient, grâce à ce living où se réunira la famille, que la femme y prépare les repas, y vive avec son mari et ses enfants et, dernière mais difficile étape, que les repas y soient pris en commun, un pas énorme sera réalisé vers lâévolution de la femme indigène et la constitution de familles suivant la conception européenne.230 | If we achieve, thanks to this living room where the family gets together, the woman preparing the meals there, living there with her husband and their children, and â the last and most difficult step â the meals being taken together, then a huge step in the evolution of the Congolese/Ruanda-Urundi woman, and the constitution of the family according to the European concept, will have been realised. |
The kitchen and the living room served as the anchor point of a womanâs existence. She was responsible for cooking and family meals, two aspects that were considered important by the UMHK in the womenâs evolution towards a âEuropean conceptâ of their roles.
Domestic work responsibilities of women thus corresponded to a âmodernâ lifestyle. Rubbers points to the opposing âvillagersâ who were regarded as âilliterate âbumpkinsââ who maintained village customs. âIn such households [â¦] father, mother, and children were still eating separately, not during a family meal.â231 The scene on sharing the meal in the UMHKâs propaganda movie as well as the dining room mentioned in the brochure à chacun sa maison thus projected what was successfully implemented among the populationâs perception.
The âmodern lifestyleâ not only tied women to domestic work but also meant that they did not have the possibility to engage in any economic activities elsewhere, as participants of the baraza stressed. However, Rubbers states that after 1960 it was only the cadres that could fulfil the ideal of âmodernâ domesticity. It is this group in particular that indulged most in nostalgia.232
Malevez cites a Belgian domestic manual from 1901 which clearly outlines the womanâs duty as a loving wife:
| Après une journée de rude labeur, le mari nâest-il pas plus content lorsque, près dâune table bien servie, il trouve une épouse qui lâaccueille le sourire sur les lèvres ? Il se sent si heureux quâil oublie ses fatigues, et, savourant les douceurs de lâintimité, il nâa nulle envie dâaller au dehors chercher des distractions. (Detienne and Voituron-Liénard 1901, 6)233 | After a day of hard work, is the husband not happier when, at a well-set table, he finds a wife who welcomes him with a smile on her lips? He feels so happy that he forgets his labours and, savouring the sweetness of intimacy, he has no desire to go outside in search of distractions. (Detienne and Voituron-Liénard 1901, 6) |
Womenâs care and involvement in their home meant that, for men, it was the perfect place to forget about the tiredness resulting from their working life and to indulge in « les douceurs de lâintimité », which was encouraged, instead of going to the café, for example. The home was deemed an appropriate space for men and it was promoted across social classes as a barrier against moral depravation.234
The women who write to Mwana Shaba are few in number, and yet, I know that they like the paper very much and that they would all have things to say. Today I am writing you to ask you if it is silly for women to embrace their husbands when they go to work or when they return. Is that something that makes one laugh or, rather, is it an act of love and reverence that will bring joy to our husbands?
CÃCILE KIBAMBE235
My dear reader [lit.: woman reader], this is not a foolish thing. Rather it would be very good if all women would do like this. To embrace your husband before he goes to work, is just like saying: âIt is because of you that we get our soundness, go in peace, I will stay to watch over the house and the childrenâ. And if you embrace your husband when he returns it is [like] showing him openly your joy caused by seeing him with you. We transmit to our readers that Mr. Kisimba François from Shinkolobwe calls this a token of love of the Congolese woman.
The main role created for women was thus that of a loving wife and mother who could rely on the husband as the breadwinner. Of course, there is the question whether these letters were actually written by readers or composed by the editors to communicate the desired ideal of the woman.
Not only men, but also women, were to be protected from moral depravity. Although most attempts to clarify womenâs roles were made by foregrounding their domesticity, in later times there were also some explicit references to femmes légères who were seen as the opposite of the ideal woman because they would not contribute to the development of the newly independent Congo. In addition, they were seen as shameful in the context of the emancipation of women and of women who could work and study, as the following excerpt from Mwana Shaba in 1966 illustrates:
| ETUDIANTE ⦠ET BELLE DE NUIT!
Nous rencontrons dans les cités de nos grands centres des jeunes filles qui mènent une double vie: étudiantes pendant la journée ⦠et garces pendant la nuit! [â¦] Elles vous diront avec un petit air gêné, quâil faut se méfier des garçons : âElles ajouteront même : Il ne faut surtout pas répondre à leur bonjour de peur quâils ne poussent plus loin leur politesses. Car du âbonjourâ ⦠on passera au âcomment va la santé?â ; de là au âoù habitez-vous?â et patati et patata ⦠! |
STUDENT ⦠AND LADY OF THE NIGHT [prostitutes]!
In the housing estates of our major centres we meet young girls who lead a double life: student during the day ⦠and slut at night! [â¦] They will tell you, with a little embarrassment, that you should beware of boys: They will even add: âYou should not answer their hello for fear that they will push their politeness further. Because from âhelloâ ⦠they will move on to âhowâs your health?; from there to âwhere do you live?â and blah, blah, blah! |
Je le répète, vous avez la chance inouïe de pouvoir faire des études et de devenir les premières intellectuelles du pays, de notre Congo qui en a tant besoin. Ne vous laissez pas impressionner par la faux brillant, par le luxe des femmes légères.236 |
[â¦]
I repeat, you have the incredible opportunity to study and to become the first intellectuals of the country, our Congo, which needs it so much. Donât let yourselves be impressed by the false brilliance, by the luxury of âlight womenâ [prostitutes and promiscuous women]. |
In this text extract, it becomes clear that female students who are out at night are âslutsâ. The text is addressed directly to such potential readers and formulated in the direct form of address. The middle part even describes how they warn each other about boys who are far too polite and would not bring the luxury they are looking for. In the last part, they are directly called upon not to squander their opportunities. This excerpt emphasises that the role of women was not always depicted as to take care of the home, but always in connection with a call to the tasks they have to perform for society: in this example, in the period after independence, when intellectuals were much needed.
Mama Aiméeâs earlier account shows not only her outstanding engagement with children of mothers who were les petites femmes, but also that unofficial women were always the victims of the moral standards. During colonial times, and before 2003, the UMHK tried to prevent relationships between their male workforce and prostitutes and second wives in the countryside by promoting marriage and by preventing access to the benefits eligible to official wives and children. Equally, the provision of leisure activities in Cité Gécamines was one measure to stop workers from going to the city centre. The hierarchical situation and spatial separation between the official wives and les petites femmes was also expressed by a participant during a baraza:
| La Cité pour les femmes légitimes, les autres ailleurs pour les jours de repos. | The City for the legitimate women, the others elsewhere for the days off. |
The âothersâ thus did not belong to Cité Gécamines. The moral norms were preserved within Cité Gécamines (and also Makomeno). The interviewees were aware that the children of the other women suffered from their unofficial status, as shown in the following statement by a participant who emphasised that there was a time when one was at least able to recognise ownâs offspring:
| The woman was not recognised but under Mobutuâs regime the children were recognised. |
3.3 Health
UMHKâs concern for hygiene and health reflected the Belgian Colonialâs endeavour to keep their workforce healthy and productive. In 1953, the Bureau de lâInformation pour Indigènes (INFIND) Service des A.I.M.O. du Gouvernement Général published a brochure called à chacun sa maison. The main objective, as described in the introductory part of the brochure, was to encourage the Congolese to build houses according to the Grévisse philosophy. This brochure was dedicated to the technical aspects of house building, but interspersed with statements reflecting Belgian ideals about housing in general. The preface started by referring to the house not in a technical sense but as le vrai foyer (a real home), not the material object but rather an abstract idea. âHomeâ was the place where a devoted and loving wife (lâépouse dévouée, la femme aimante) and healthy children (de beaux enfants pleins de santé) were waiting for the husband. Home and house were thus discursively linked:
| Qui nâa rêvé dâêtre propriétaire dâune jolie maison, dâavoir à soi un vrai foyer où se retrouvent chaque jour lâépouse dévouée, la femme aimante et de beaux enfants pleins de santé?237 | Who has not dreamed of being the owner of a nice house, of having a real home where every day a devoted wife, the loving woman and handsome healthy children are waiting? |
The brochure promoted a certain type of house â European style; it acknowledged that a âtraditionalâ house (referring to Congolese architecture) would be sufficient to meet basic needs but that it could become plus saine et plus agréable (healthier and more pleasant) â without investing much more money â if a few improvements were made according to the Belgian ideal. A slogan in bold, capital letters concluded this section, referring to health:
| CIVILISATION implique MAISONS SAINES ET CONFORTABLES238 | CIVILISATION implies HEALTHY AND COMFORTABLE HOUSES |
For instance, in the first issue of 1965, Mwana Shaba published the article le grand nettoyage (the big cleaning).239 In great detail, every step of cleaning a house was described. Readers learned, for instance, that the woman was expected to use a wet cleaning rag, how to scrub clothes and much more. As a term, however, âthe big cleaningâ also referred to general domestic hygiene. It stated that it was inappropriate if children slept in dirty clothes. They were supposed to be clean and sleep in a clean bed (Il faut que lâenfant soit propre pour sâendormir dans un lit propre).
Moreover, the text emphasised that even insects would not enter a house that was kept clean. The article ended with the notification that the UMHKâs service dâhygiène would regularly enter a house to disinfect the rooms. Insects, more particularly mosquitoes that passed on malaria, not only threatened an individualâs health but constituted a major threat to the productivity of a UMHK worker. As a result, measures to ensure hygiene were articulated in instructions on cleaning the house itself, avoiding health risks from outside, and keeping its inhabitants clean.
In addition, the text was written in the first person imperative, mainly addressed to the reader in direct speech, thus simulating advice from woman to woman. For example, âYou should leave all the furniture inside the houseâ (Vous devez laisser tout votre mobilier à lâintérieur de la maison). Direct speech creates proximity between the voice of the narrator and the reader, and thus facilitated the transmission of the UMHKâs instructions.
In the same year, in the October issue, the strategy to create proximity to the reader was used in another article that highlighted the womanâs role in terms of cleaning.240 The text described a sewing pattern for a cleaning dress. The reader was again directly addressed, for instance in the concluding sentence âAnd you will be, Madame, the most elegant housewifeâ (Et vous serez, Madame, la plus élégante des ménagères). The brief preface of this article was written in Swahili and French. Its main message declared that a woman did not have to look sloppy while doing the cleaning. Instead, wearing the proposed cleaning gown would give her a lovely appearance (ravissante allure).
Two roles were ascribed to women in this article. Firstly, and as in the first example, a woman was the one responsible for the cleaning (and again, hygiene). Otherwise, the cleaning dress would not have been a topic at all. Secondly, she was expected to fulfil this duty in a style that matched the desired appearance. Her look also mattered, at least in the view of the UMHK. Again, it was the workerâs wife who was responsible for a clean house and thus a hygienic environment. Hygiene was essential to the health of a worker and the maintenance of his productivity.
The title of this article, âThe joyfulness of housekeepingâ (Le ménage en gaieté), thus âsoldâ the UMHKâs concern for hygiene under the umbrella of an attractive activity. First of all, the sewing was an activity that was usually carried out in the foyers sociaux, where women got together. Second, doing the housework itself was presented as a chance to be âthe most elegant housewifeâ, at least if she wore the suggested dress. Her personal appearance mattered, as demonstrated by the numerous articles on womenâs beauty. Articles were published on the questions of appropriate hair length,241 a good manicure (complete with a picture of a European woman),242 good-looking skin243 and perfect make-up,244 just to name a few. Womenâs style received equal attention, from the perfect handbag245 to how to wear sunglasses.246
Many articles referred to a womanâs responsibility as a wife and as the one in charge of the household, with recipes, advice on specific problems, such as the right way to clean a scarf,247 and how to arrange flowers.248 The art of flower arrangement is interesting because, as Lambertz hints, this was a new concept for the Congolese. Flowers were associated with plants and plants were traditionally used for medicine and not as a decorative object.249 This article on arranging flowers was written in direct speech and the initial sentences advise the woman to:
| Fill it [the interior] with flowers, and your husband, in the evening will be happy after his day at work to find his beautiful home, and stay there ⦠|
Thus, flowers were presented not only as home decor but first and foremost as a tool for emphasising after-work domesticity to please the husband. The imperative form chosen to address the housewife further attributed to her the power and responsibility for creating the conditions for a worker to be and to remain productive. The wife, who provided him with a comfortable home, should also prevent moral depravity in her husband.
In summary, it can be said that the colonial state and the UMHK promoted women as the ones responsible for domesticity and family, and they tried to save women from moral depravity. Key issues linked to that were health, hygiene, and the preservation of the husbandâs productivity. The roles ascribed to men (productive worker, breadwinner) were closely interwoven with the roles ascribed to women. Womenâs agency was essentially reduced to the domestic space. Therefore, the year 2003 and the economic decline that began earlier changed the roles and agency of women enormously.
Mama Aiméeâs account exemplifies what I was told by all participants and interviewees: the house was the only thing the family had left at the lowest point of the economic crisis. Monthly instalments deducted from the husbandâs salary resulted in the ownership of private property at a certain point. The house continued to be the place of womenâs domesticity (because the woman continued to have these duties, as everybody explained to me) but equally was the starting point of their economic activities. Rubbers recalls the local metaphor used since 2003: women are the âlocomotiveâ or âengineâ of the family.250 At the beginning of the economic crisis, many of the interviewees and participants started to build an annex to rent out to tenants and generate an income.
Building additional structures to rent out had its downsides. Many complained that tenantsâ payment discipline would be poor, that they would not be able to rely on it and would themselves get into trouble with covering their expenses. Sharing a parcel of land implied less space for the property owner, which could lead to less privacy and the potential for conflict. Most of these economic difficulties forced women to search for additional income.
The UMHKâs annual reports do not include any comments by women. To talk to women affected by the loss of their husbandâs income was therefore most insightful. Papa Guillaume, who used to work as a teacher in Cité Gécamines, signed up for a baraza on the topic of the roles of women. On the day of this discussion he arrived a bit earlier and handed a very
He listed six points and he interpreted the topic of womenâs roles as domestic responsibilities that wives had to fulfil towards their husbands. His document was written in French, reflecting first his position as a teacher and therefore his knowledge of French; second, it shows that Swahili was rarely used for written purposes. Over the course of the group discussion, I asked Papa Guillaume to read his points to our group, who consisted of one other man, six women who were wives to workers, and myself.
Two kinds of hierarchy characterised the discussion. First, the respect that Papa Guillaume had among the other attendees because he was a teacher, and second, his command of French. His was the leading voice in the discussion. When he was reading out the points to the group, I invited the others and especially the women to comment. Papa Guillaume translated the points into Swahili because he assumed that the women would understand them better. After each point was read, I asked the women if they agreed and if they would like to add anything. They nodded in agreement and commented njo vile (Thatâs the way it is). Papa Guillaume listed the following points:
|
|
A womanâs responsibility for preparing meals is addressed in the second and fourth point. In connection with breakfast, her duty to wake up her husband is mentioned. He needed to be woken up, especially in case he had a glass too many the night before. Implicitly we learn that, for men, the consumption of alcohol during their leisure time was considered reasonable; this was not expected from women. The company controlled where workers drank because of the lower beer prices in the cercle, while it was a wifeâs duty to ensure that he would still be on time and productive the next day. As point three shows, the wife was responsible for converting him from a working man to a man at leisure by preparing the bath water. However, I read the perception of womenâs duties by Papa Guillaume not primarily as an assessment by him in his role as a husband, but rather as a representation of the education system for women that was characterised by its essentially practical and utilitarian orientation.251 The utilitarian approach of the Belgian colonial system marginalised women, preventing them from entering the areas of administration and industry, and aimed to keep them in their roles of wives and mothers.252
The wife was presented as responsible for childcare, as point four illustrates. Point six refers again to a wifeâs responsibility for meals and grocery shopping. Papa Guillaume added a line to the last point, the importance of mposho, the weekly food ration that was given to a single man, couples without children and families, but which differed in quantity. He explicitly mentioned flour, meat, fish, beans, rice, palm oil and potatoes. Thus, the women were buying additional ingredients on their daily shopping trip.
There was obviously no legal basis to Papa Guillaumeâs presentation of womenâs responsibilities, but it reflected the norms that women were expected to uphold within that community. He added that to access finances women
[T]his celebration of fidelity and cooperation between husband and wife at least partly comprised an attempt by workers to rationalize more recent developments that were not entirely desired or expected. Their discourse about proper marital life was passing over a complex history in silence â a history rooted in Gécamines social policy since the 1920s.253
Rubbers argues that the husband-wife relationship has changed since the 1960s. As mentioned earlier, the UMHK considered women as a key factor for the stabilisation of workforce and ensurement of productivity.
The participants during the baraza emphasised that men were expected to take care of the family financially. The loss of income thus radically changed the relationship between men and women. Men could no longer fulfil their role as the breadwinner. One interviewee stated, in a resigned way, that many of them, himself included, had been left by their wives, and that they would have no chance of finding another wife because they were no longer able to provide a good life, as they had been able to at the beginning of their working careers.
In the mid-1990s, the economic situation of workers became difficult for two reasons. First, due to hyperinflation, and second, the irregular wages paid by the Gécamines. This situation had two implications for women. Firstly, women, who had been housewives since their marriage, were forced to contribute to the household income due to the miserable economic situation of the family, e.g. by expanding their activities to starting farm land outside the Cité Gécamines or by starting to run small businesses. Secondly, families had to sell everything they had in their house.254
I have outlined objects of loss about which the ODV sâ were particularly nostalgic: stability, kazi, leisure, space, heshima, masculinity, and women and domesticity. With regard to women and domesticity, it was revealing to see
Higginson, âSteamâ, 100.
Seibert, âWindâ, 263.
Higginson, âBringingâ, 201.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Histoire; Seibert, âWindâ; Julia Seibert, In die Globale Wirtschaft Gezwungen: Arbeit und Kolonialer Kapitalismus im Kongo (1885â1960) (Frankfurt, New York: Campus Verlag, 2016).
For a description of worker protest in Katanga, see for example, Higginson, âBringingâ.
Perrings, Black Mineworkers, 226.
Higginson, âBringingâ, 201â2.
Dumett, âAfricaâ, 381.
Dumett, âAfricaâ; Perrings, Black Mineworkers.
AGR 2 â n°654-03041, Rapport Annuel 1941, B.
âLes exigences de la production, amplifiées par la guerre, ont imposé une cadence telle que les journées de repos accordées aux travailleur ne représentent que 12,6% du total des journées distribuées au lieu du chiffre normal de 14,2%. Ces mêmes travailleurs ont presté en 1941 environ 500.000 heures supplémentairesâ (B) (The demands of production, exacerbated by the war, imposed such a rhythm that days of rest granted to workers represented only 12.6% of the total number of days distributed, compared with the normal figure of 14.2%. In 1941, these same workers put in about 500,000 additional hours.)
âQue cette population fut disciplinée on ne peut en douter quand on sait que malgré lâintensité de lâeffort qui fut demandé aux hommes, il nây eut que 0,38% de journées dâabsences non motivées et 0,43% de journées de prison.â (B) (That this population was disciplined cannot be doubted when we know that despite the very hard work, there were only 0.38% of days of unexcused absence and 0.43% days of prison.)
AGR 2 â n°654-03041, Rapport Annuel 1941, C.
AGR 2 â n°654-03041, Rapport Annuel 1941, C.
AGR 2 â n°654-03041, Rapport Annuel 1941, C.
The following additional reasons were mentioned: first, the product was not always good in terms of quality because the production services wanted to achieve a higher return at a lower cost price; second, weak management tended to shirk responsibility and âcover upâ instead. In addition, the judiciary was accused of having an enormous influence on the police services.
AGR 2 â n°654-03041, Rapport Annuel 1941, E.
AGR 2 â n°654-03041, Rapport Annuel 1941, E.
AGR 2 â n°654-03042, Rapport 1940â1946, 2.
AGR 2 â n°654-03042, Rapport 1940â1946, 2.
AGR 2 â n°654-03042, Rapport 1940â1946, 3â4.
AGR 2 â n°654-03042, Rapport 1940â1946, 4.
Ministère des Colonies, Plan décennal pour le développement économique et social du Congo belge (Brussels: Editions de Visscher, 1949).
Lagae, âModernâ.
Chapelier, Elisabethville, 47â49, 65.
Callaci, Street.
Callaci, Street, 18.
âAfter having run for office promising cement houses with metal roofs as a symbol of freedom and decolonisation, he [Julius Nyerere] returned again with a new take on the matter of housing: âThe present widespread addiction to cement and tin roofs is a kind of mental paralysis. A bati roof is nothing compared to one with of clay tiles. But those afflicted with this mental attitude will not agree. Cement is basically âearthâ but it is âEuropean soilâ. Therefore people refuse to build a house of burnt bricks and tiles; they insist on waiting for a tin roof and âEuropean soilâ. If we want to progress more rapidly in the future we must overcome at least some of these mental blocks.ââ (Callaci, Street, 19.)
Ferdinand Grévisse, Le centre extra-coutumier dâElisabethville: Quelques aspects de la politique du Haut-Katanga Industriel (Brussels: Institut Royal Colonial Belge, 1951).
Fabian, âKaziâ, 299.
For more information about Placide Tempelsâs thinking, see for example, Emmanuel M. Banywesize, âPlacide Tempels et le destin de la pensée africaine contemporaineâ, in Lubumbashi, cent ans dâhistoire, ed. Maurice Amuri Mpala-Lutebele (Paris: LâHarmattan, 2013).
Fabian, âKaziâ, 301.
Fabian, âKaziâ, 302.
Fabian, âKaziâ, 302.
Fabian, âKaziâ, 303.
âIn Katanga Swahili the noun kazi may cover a wide range of activities, moods, attitudes, and attributes. [â¦] In some expressions a specific denotation may be due to idiomatic usage, e.g. in the often heard kazi yako âthatâs your business, itâs up to you, go to hell.â It may also be achieved through a context-specific contrast such as in the opposition between furaha and kazi [â¦]. But the overwhelming majority of expressions in which kazi has a specified meaning is based on complexes formed with the connective particle {a}, especially those which function as characterizations. These may signify a trade or profession: kazi ya mwalimu âbeing a teacher;â a type of employment: kazi ya Union Minière âbeing employed by the Union Minière;â a degree of exertion, effort: kazi ya nguvu âhard work.â Similarly we find that most verbal expressions are complex, combining a verb with the noun kazi and often adding further specifications through the connective {a}. Examples are kufanya kazi ya chauffeur or kutumika kazi ya chauffeur âto work as a driver.ââ (Fabian, âKaziâ, 304â5.)
Fabian, âKaziâ, 319.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa perceptionâ, 162.
Dibwe dia Mwembu does not mention a specific name for Sunday in Lubumbashi. The term mujuma can also be used for Sunday. See for example the play Ufundi ya kazi ya mikono, included in Schicho, Le Groupe Mufwankolo, 138.
Personal experience from 2017, 2018 and 2019 showed that either siku ya dini (day of the religion) or the French term, Dimanche, were used. Standard Swahili from the East African coast was not in use. Its names of weekdays follow the Muslim tradition, where the first day of the week is Saturday.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa perceptionâ, 163.
Dibwe Dia Mwembu cites a song among workers that expressed their sentiment before going down into the mine, which meant the fear of dying without being sick (Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 164.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa perceptionâ, 164; Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 113.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa perceptionâ, 164.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 115; Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa perceptionâ, 165.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa perceptionâ, 65.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa perceptionâ, 166.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 118.
Umutazame = lit: you can see him.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 120.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 121â22; Rubbers, âWomenâ, 214.
With the country heading for bankruptcy, Gécamines was the countryâs main source of income and was therefore used to cover the regimeâs cash needs. Poor management strategies led to a general decline of the industry and its collapse. Inflation led to exaggerated price increases for basic necessities and delays in the payment of wages and salaries, which were already inadequate in both the private and public sectors. (Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 141; Petit and Mutambwa, âLA CRISEâ, 469.)
See also Daniela Waldburger, ââCâétait Bien à LâÃpoqueâ: Work and Leisure Among Retrenched Mineworkers in the Democratic Republic of the Congoâ, African Studies 82, no. 1 (2023), 8.
Mwana Shaba, 1964, No. 12, 11.
Akyeampong and Ambler, âLeisureâ; Odhiambo, âKula Rahaâ; Thomas, âWorkâ; E. P. Thompson, âTime, Work-Discipline, and Industrial Capitalismâ, Past & Present 38 (1967).
Vanthemsche, Belgium, 47. The welfare policy was gradually introduced between 1890 and 1944. However, it focused very much on rural areas, where Fonds du Bien-Ãtre Indigène [DW] operated a wide range of welfare activities; sanitary campaigns were undertaken, food storage facilities built, livestock provided and vocational schools constructed (Vanthemsche, Belgium, 31; Young, Politics , 62.)
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLubumbashiâ, 138.
Callaci, Street, 41.
Martin, 7.
AGR 2 â n°655-03047, Rapport Annuel 1951, 24.
By creating these centres, the UMHK was in line with the Belgian welfare programme. The UMHK and its successor actively promoted the nuclear family and womenâs roles and responsibilities. For a detailed discussion on the intertwining fields of health, hygiene, home and womenâs roles in the same period, see Daniela Waldburger, âHouse, Home, Health and Hygiene â Social Engineering of Workers in Elisabethville / Lubumbashi (1940s to 1960s) Through the Lens of Language Usageâ, in The Politics of Housing in (Post)Colonial Africa, eds. Kirsten Rüther, Martina Barker-Ciganikova and Daniela Waldburger (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2020).
The social centres also offered courses for men, such as adult literacy.
Chipande, âFootballâ.
Chipande, âFootballâ, 104.
AGR 2 â n°655-03047, Rapport Annuel 1951, 24.
AGR 2 â n°657-03054, Rapport Annuel 1957, 36.
Chipande, âFootballâ, 102â4.
Chipande, âFootballâ, 107.
AGR 2 â n°655-03047, Rapport Annuel 1951, 24.
AGR 2 â n°655-03047, Rapport Annuel 1951, 26.
AGR 2 â n°655-03045, Rapport Annuel 1949, 23.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 57â103; Quaretta writes on the importance of beer drinking in Lubumbashi today and discusses three imaginaries that are fairly widespread in Lubumbashi and Congolese society in general: masculinity, social success and domination â three models of men (Quaretta, âApprendreâ).
AGR 2 â n°655-03047, Rapport Annuel 1951, 25.
See also the subchapter on âThe importance of language choiceâ.
Vincent Bouchard, âCommentary and Orality in African Film Receptionâ, in Viewing African Cinema in the 21st Century: Art Films and the Nollywood Video Revolution, eds. Saul Mahir and Ralph Austen (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 2010), 98; Bokonga Ekanga Botombele, Cultural Policy in the Republic of Zaire (Paris: The UNESCO Press, 1976), 43.
Bouchard, âCommentaryâ, 95.
Bouchard, âCommentaryâ, 98.
Tom Rice, Films for the Colonies: Cinema and the Preservation of the British Empire (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2019).
AGR 2 â n°655-03047, Rapport Annuel 1951, 25.
In 1966, the cityâs name was changed from Elisabethville to Lubumbashi.
For a comprehensive overview of the history of Elisabethville, see for example Fetter, Creation.
Fetter, Creation, provides us with an excellent historiography of the city in its earlier years. The cityâs history has also been discussed against the backdrop of labour and the UMHK (such as by Dibwe dia Mwembu, Bana Shaba; Dibwe dia Mwembu, Histoire) or significant events in the city and the Katanga region in general, such as the strikes (Higginson, âBringingâ; Higginson, âSteamâ). The socioeconomic situation of Lubumbashi within a wider context has also been studied (as in Higginson, Working Class; Perrings, Black Mineworkers; Seibert, âWindâ; Seibert, Globale Wirtschaft; Vellut, Les bassins). In addition, architects and urban planners characterised the city from their perspective, as Lubumbashi was planned, like many other colonial cities, according to the ideology of segregation, such as Lagae, âIn Searchâ; Lagae, âModern Livingâ; Lagae, âRewritingâ; Lagae and Boonen, âCityâ; Lagae and Boonen, âScenesâ.
Lagae, Boonen and Dibwe dia Mwembu, âM(G)Râ, 180.
Lagae and Boonen, âCityâ, 56.
Piet Clement, âUne expérience ambiguë dâautogestion le centre extra-coutumier dâElisabethville, 1932â1957â, in Amuri Mpala-Lutebele, Lubumbashi, cent ans dâhistoire, 117.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âHistoryâ, 22.
Coquery-Vidrovitch, âProcessâ, 48; Fetter, Creation, 94.
Lagae, âIn Searchâ, 274.
Rubbers, âMiningâ, 92.
Rubbers, âMiningâ, 92.
AGR 2 â n°657-03054, Rapport Annuel 1957, 46.
AGR 2 â n°657-03051, Rapport Annuel 1954, 31.
AGR 2 â n°657-03052, Rapport Annuel 1955, 38.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 87.
AGR 2 â n°634, Rapport Annuel 1958, 50.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 93.
AGR 2 â n°657-03053, Rapport Annuel 1956, 43.
AGR 2 â n°657-03051, Rapport Annuel 1954, 31.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 47.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 88.
AGR 2 â n°657-03053, Rapport Annuel 1956, 43.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 48.
AGR 2 â n°640, Rapport Annuel 1964, 96.
AGR 2 â n° 656-03049, Rapport Annuel 1952, 29.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 47.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 88.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 93.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 88.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 93.
AGR 2 â n°640, Rapport Annuel 1964, 97.
AGR 2 â n°640, Rapport Annuel 1964, 97.
AGR 2 â n°657-03051, Rapport Annuel 1954, 31.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 47.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 48.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 88.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 94.
AGR 2 â n°657-03052, Rapport Annuel 1955, 37.
AGR 2 â n°640, Rapport Annuel 1964, 96.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 47.
AGR 2 â n°657-03053, Rapport Annuel 1956, 43.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 93.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 48.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 87.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 84.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 47.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 47.
AGR 2 â n°657-03053, Rapport Annuel 1956, 44.
AGR 2 â n°637, Rapport Annuel 1961, 78.
AGR 2 â n°634, Rapport Annuel 1958, 52.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 85.
AGR 2 â n°657-03054, Rapport Annuel 1957, 46.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 94.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 47.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 88.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 93.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 84.
AGR 2 â n°657-03051, Rapport Annuel 1954, 31.
AGR 2 â n°657-03053, Rapport Annuel 1956, 43.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 47.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 88.
AGR 2 â n°657-03054, Rapport Annuel 1957, 46.
AGR 2 â n°657-03052, Rapport Annuel 1955, 38.
AGR 2 â n°657-03053, Rapport Annuel 1956, 43.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 47.
AGR 2 â n°640, Rapport Annuel 1964, 96.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 88.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 94.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 84.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 85.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 84.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 88.
AGR 2 â n°640, Rapport Annuel 1964, 96.
AGR 2 â n°640, Rapport Annuel 1964, 97.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 84.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 93.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 88.
AGR 2 â n°640, Rapport Annuel 1964, 96.
AGR 2 â n°635, Rapport Annuel 1959, 48.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 83.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 84.
AGR 2 â n°639, Rapport Annuel 1963, 93.
AGR 2 â n°657-03051, Rapport Annuel 1954, 31.
AGR 2 â n°657-03052, Rapport Annuel 1955, 37.
AGR 2 â n°636, Rapport Annuel 1960, 87.
AGR 2 â n°657-03052, Rapport Annuel 1955, 37.
AGR 2 â n°657-03054, Rapport Annuel 1957, 46.
AGR 2 â n°638, Rapport Annuel 1962, 77.
That was, however, not possible in other neighbourhoods where workers were also living. See Grévisse, Le Centre, 306â12; Dibwe dia Mwembu, Faire, 36.
I found different ways of spelling this word and chose the most frequently used form.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 36.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 37.
Luc Mukendi, âCité Gécamines and Operation Voluntary Departureâ, in VANSA/Centre dâArt Waza, Revolution Room, 31.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âHistoryâ, 25.
âHomogeneousâ here refers to the workers being in the same community because of their employment and thus same living conditions.
Donatien Dibwe dia Mwembu et al., âLes Communes Et Leurs Habitantsâ, in Les identités urbaines en Afrique. Le cas de Lubumbashi (R.D. Congo), ed. Donatien Dibwe dia Mwembu, coll. Mémoires lieux de savoir (Paris: LâHarmattan, 2009), 107.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, email to the author. In Chichewa/Nyanja, a language predominantly spoken on the Zambian side of the Copperbelt, malonda refers to traffic and business. I thank one of the anonymous reviewers for pointing out that the verb could also come from neighbouring languages, such as Tshiluba, Kisanga, Kizela, etc.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Histoire, 77.
The magazine appeared from 1955 to 1959 (Kadima-Tshimanga, âLa sociétéâ).
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Histoire, 6.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Histoire, 78.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Histoire, 78.
Here the real meaning of the word tshanga tshanga appears, which highlights the problem with its use to refer to people with whom we do research. See also Tchokothe, âArchivingâ.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Histoire, 79.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Histoire, 80.
Mwana Shaba, No. 121, 15 March 1966, 15.
Legal pluralism refers to the application of customary, religious and statutory laws in the same social field with or without state recognition. For a discussion, see for example Berihun A. Gebeye, âDecoding Legal Pluralism in Africaâ, The Journal of Legal Pluralism and Unofficial Law 49, no. 2 (2017).
De Rooij, âLettersâ.
Luise White, Speaking with Vampires (University of California Press, 2000), 18â9. White discusses the meaning of the term pointing out the many ways to read it: â[t]he term for those who captured Africans for the Europeans who ate their flesh in colonial Belgian Congo was batumbula (singular, mutumbula), from the Luba-tumbula, translated in Shaba Swahili as to âbutcher.â [â¦] Batumbula, a term that took hold among the migrant labour population of the mines of colonial Katanga, may have been interpreted by Swahili speakers with one set of meanings and by Luba speakers with another. The power and viability of the term lay in its many meanings, which allowed the word to encompass all the things batumbula were said to do, from digging pits, to giving their victims injections, to eating their flesh. And in Belgian Colonial Congo, batumbula was also glossed by the Shaba Swahili term âsimba bulayaâ, the lion from Europe, another animal term to describe the predatory cannibals who left their victimsâ clothes behind.â
Rubbers, âStoryâ, 278.
Rubbers, âStoryâ, 279.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 68â69.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 68.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 68.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Lâhistoire, 36.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa perceptionâ, 165â66.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa perceptionâ, 165.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, personal communication with the author.
Bruce Fetter, Lâunion; Jana Hönke, âNew Political Topographies. Mining Companies and Indirect Discharge in Southern Katanga (DRC)â, Politique Africaine 120, no. 4 (2010): 113.
Hönke, âNewâ, 114; Vellut, âMiningâ.
Hönke, âNewâ, 114.
Vellut, Les bassins, 69.
William Cunningham Bissell, Urban Design, Chaos, and Colonial Power in Zanzibar (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2011), 61. Multi-storeyed houses have gained interest among scholars particular in relation to the Western idea of these houses as being a symbol of civilisation and modernity. Bissell, for instance, discusses the nyumba ya ghorofa in Zanzibarâs Stone Town. There â[i]t also mirrors an older tradition in Swahili cultural analysis that seized on the multistoried stone house â nyumba ya ghorofa â as the defining feature of Swahili urbanism. Swahili towns, then, were depicted as âstone townsâ even in the majority of instances when mud and wattle dwellings surrounded a few stone structures. Similarly, concentrations of stone houses were typically singled out as âArabâ quarters, in distinction to ânativeâ huts because of Western beliefs that African urbanity was a contradiction in terms.â However, in Lubumbashi, the people did not appreciate these houses. Lagae and Boonen discuss this topic on the basis of the neighbourhood Ruashi in Lubumbashi, where in the 1950s, the Office des Cités Africaines (OCA) constructed different kinds of houses. The two-storey houses were so unpopular that the OCA started a campaign: âThe local government also undertook several initiatives to âeducateâ the African population in new dwelling practices, such as the publication of an informative brochure on the maison modèle, creating a fully furnished maison témoin that could be visited, and organising a series of competitions honouring the most beautiful house/garden/interior of the cité. Deeply rooted in the paternalistic rationale underlying postwar colonial policies in the Belgian Congo, such initiatives were also in tune with then current practices in the mother country that sought to educate the Belgian housewife in âmodern livingâ via a variety of popularising media targeting a broad audience (exhibitions of model houses and interiors, lectures, publications in newspapers and womenâs magazines etc.)â (Lagae and Boonen, âRuashiâ, 82â83).
Jeroen Cuvelier, âWorkâ, 8.
Lisa Lindsay and Stephen Miescher, Men and Masculinities in Modern Africa (Portsmouth: Heinemann, 2003), 4.
See the next section on womenâs roles and agency.
Cuvelier, âWorkâ, 5.
Rubbers, âClaimingâ, 336.
Territoire du Sénégal, Cercle Linguère Rapport politique, Commandant du Cercle Gienger, Sénégal 1952, 22â231, FR ANOM 14 MIOM 2738, AOF 2G52/214. I thank Walter Schicho for sharing this file with me.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, Histoire, 55â61; Rubbers, âWomenâ, 216.
AGR 2 â n°2424, Réunions du conseil dâadministration, 24.11.1955, 288. The UMHK aimed at stabilising the labour force for a predetermined period between 3 and 18 years; the rural areas would continue to guarantee social security in the event of discharge or retirement. Thus, the UMHK even supported the rural communities financially, for example with 30 million francs in 1955.
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 216.
Perrings, Black Mineworkers, 128â29.
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 217.
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 219. Rubbers also points out: âAlthough marriages between spouses of different âtribalâ origins became more and more common among the members of the urban elite, they were generally discouraged by both families for practical and moral reasons. Following the Katangese secession (1960â1963), it was also feared that marriages between people from Katanga and Kasaï, or from North and South Katanga, would lead couples to separate if new political tensions re-emerged.â
AGR 2 â n°654-03043, Rapport Annuel 1948, 18.
AGR 2 â n°654-03042, Rapport Annuel 1947, 21.
Hunt, âDomesticityâ, 449.
âThe Union des Femmes Coloniales established the first lay-operated housekeeping and social welfare centers for young girls in two Congolese cities in 1926. Directors of Catholic missions and private social service agencies, with the agreement of the Belgian administration, sent the first social workers to Leopoldville in 1933, Elisabethville in 1934, and Coquilhatville in 1938. Foyers sociaux were opened to teach home economics and maternal hygiene, in response to what was considered an urgent problem: women living in urban centersâ. (Hunt, âDomesticityâ, 450.)
AGR 2 â n°654-03038, Rapport Annuel 1938, 12.
AGR 2 â n°654-03038, Rapport Annuel 1938, 13.
AGR 2 â n°654-03038, Rapport Annuel 1938, 13.
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 217.
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 217.
Hunt, âDomesticityâ, 468.
En Cinquante Ans, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9z4GtyCvlCg&sns=em.
Perrings, Black Mineworkers, 82â83.
Hunt, âDomesticityâ, 451.
Dibwe dia Mwembu, âLa structureâ, 172, reports that the UMHK indeed managed to balance the ratio. Whereas in 1925 there were 18 women to 100 men, the number rose to 85 women per 100 men by 1960.
Hunt, âDomesticityâ, 451.
See also the early section of this chapter on âStabilityâ.
AGR 2 â n°654-03042, Rapport Annuel 1947, 29.
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 224.
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 224.
Malevez, âLes douceursâ, 44.
Malevez, âLes douceursâ, 4.
De Rooij, âLettersâ.
Mwana Shaba, No. 127, June 1966, 11.
Editions du Bureau de lâInformation pour Indigènes (INFIND) Service des A.I.M.O. du Gouvernement Général, 3.
Editions du Bureau de lâInformation pour Indigènes (INFIND) Service des A.I.M.O. du Gouvernement Général, A chacun sa maison, 10.
Mwana Shaba, No. 1, January 1965, 13.
Mwana Shaba, No. 10, October 1965, 19.
Mwana Shaba, No. 10, September 1964, 18.
Mwana Shaba, No. 10, September 1964, 19.
Mwana Shaba, No. 12, November 1964, 10.
Mwana Shaba, No. 9, September 1965, 19.
Mwana Shaba, No. 10, September 1964, 19.
Mwana Shaba, No. 11, October 1964, 17.
Mwana Shaba, No. 11, October 1964, 17.
Mwana Shaba, No. 13, December 1964, 10.
Peter Lambertz, Seekers and Things: Spiritual Movements and Aesthetic Difference in Kinshasa (New York, Oxford: Berghahn, 2018).
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 224.
Masandi, âLâÃducationâ, 498.
Masandi, âLâÃducationâ, 498.
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 214.
Rubbers, âWomenâ, 224.