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I don't understand those composers.
Nowadays, when I turn on the radio,
I immediately switch it off.
It drives me crazy.
It's not music, but a cacophony.
Are you a communist, Mr. Lumumba?
I always have to laugh when they ask me that question.
I'm not a communist at all.
I'm an African.
Death to colonial slavery!
Bury it!
Bury it deep in the ground!
The deeper, the better!
Humanity has designated 1960 as The Year of Africa.
Never has there been such a year
at the United Nations.
At its 15th session, the General Assembly
has adopted 16 newly independent African countries.
Placing the protocol in my hands,
Lumumba said,
"if the Belgians learn of this document,
this would be a death warrant for us."
That day, I was wearing my hair in a bun
in which I hid the secret document.
In the crowd, a Belgian official
was spying on me.
For seconds, our eyes locked.
Would he arrest me here?
Right now?
I could only think of the document burning in my neck.
But it gave me the strength to brave anything.
Even death.
As I landed in Rome,
journalists were crowding around me.
I read the declaration denouncing Belgium's plot
to install a puppet government.
The plot was already in the make
to impose a government against the will of its people.
The revelation of the protocol created a sensation.
We won!
That evening, I phoned Lumumba
at Leopoldville.
"We know," he shouted.
"Everyone is talking about it.
The Belgians are dumbfounded."
Later that day,
the phone rang in my room.
I was surprised to speak to the Czech ambassador.
"You must leave now," he said.
"Hurry! Pack your things.
I'll pick you in five minutes.
Your life is in danger."
He had already booked my flight to Paris and on to Guinea.
I was rushed onto the plane feeling death on my heels.
Diplomacy is like
walking a tightrope.
If you raise your voice half a note too high,
you can end up soiling your pants.
On the other hand, if you keep your voice too low,
your opponent will hit you hard.
And this is America, our biggest enemy.
But once you take a misleading path...
history will not forgive you.
And the memory will haunt you forever.
Eisenhower confessed
he was really troubled.
"I've spent my whole life as a military man,
but I'm absolutely horrified by war."
I replied, "Mr. President, nothing would make me happier
than to prevent another world war."
Any fool can start a war
that even a wise man cannot end.
In the name of the United Nations,
I salute Your Excellency, Mr. Nikita S. Khrushchev.
Decisions were hard to take
about these big international questions.
I devoted hours and hours to the Congolese question.
Days and weeks of effort and contemplation.
Sure, I'd rather be a poet than a politician.
I'm suspicious of the written word.
I prefer the spoken word.
I trust it more in the world of politics.
How to reconcile what the Europeans taught us
with what they perpetrated against the Black people?
Danger exists that Euratom won't possess enough uranium.
Mr. Sassen, is there really need for so much uranium?
Yes. We need loads of uranium.
Depending on how many nuclear plants...
The British called me,
Gamal Abdel Nasser, a dog.
Remember the insults written on the walls of Port Said?
You said your queen is what?
A bitch!
And today, Port Said toppled
the Prime Minister of Britain.
The world has turned upside down.
The world has changed.
Yes... no!
Nobody wanted to follow
the colonials any longer.
Men, women and children...
the whole population demanded immediate independence.
Uganda Premier Milton Obote
calls out American racists:
"How can we believe America's sincerity
towards African people,
when inside the U.S. itself,
'Negroes' are still subjected
to terrible racial discrimination?"
Black children cannot attend school
together with white children!
Isn't this embarrassing for such a civilized country?
In America, Blacks get lynched.
They get hanged.
Is that democracy? Is that respect for man? No!
Mr. Vloer, beer plays a central role
in a Black person's life?
Yes. This has now turned political, of course.
But when talking politics,
they like to drink a pint of beer.
Just like in Belgium.
One day, driving my Deux Chevaux...
a truck was heading straight at us.
I stepped on the gas.
We shot past,
but the rear end of my car was hit,
making us skid crazily out of control.
Right then...
we saw who was in the truck.
Our political opponents.
Days later, when crossing the savannah,
a brush fire was moving towards us.
I slowed down and looked behind,
but the road we just passed was now engulfed in flames.
The severity of my situation suddenly hit me.
Twice...
Twice, I was nearly murdered.
But this did not deter me from my purpose.
On the contrary,
I felt an extraordinary sense of being alive.
It only reinforced the will to fight for my people.
It's Kwame Nkrumah who asked me
to call upon Africa's women...
to unify the continent...
envisioning a new political entity:
The United States of Africa.
At our national congress in December,
a woman spoke up:
"if we're not allowed to vote,
we will sabotage these elections."
The frenzy of the electoral
campaign across the country made me forget
that I was the only woman in the team.
I was presented as a woman from Guinea,
a country that had gained independence.
People sat down in a circle, asking me questions:
How is it there?
What did people do to gain independence?
If Guinea is independent, why aren't the Congolese?
As we talked about the need
to free our continent,
I saw that the women actually needed
to liberate themselves.
As they started to tell their story,
I realized that these women had really suffered.
I understood we could not separate
the problem of Africa's resources
from that of the African women.
If they wished, these women
could become the first bearers of independence.
By May 1960, I had enrolled 45, 000 members
for the Association of African Women of Solidarity.
Never have I felt so alive.
But our movement sounded threatening to the colonials.
When you defend the cause of freedom,
they immediately label you.
The officials claimed: "Lumumba is dangerous.
Because people follow him everywhere,
we must arrest him."
So, they threw me in jail...
I was brutally assaulted.
Locked into a pitch dark cell.
I was scoffed at, vilified, and dragged through the mud...
simply because I claimed freedom for our country.
I was released from prison
to head for Brussels.
But I was left with nothing.
No clothes.
No shoes. Absolutely nothing.
The authorities had to get me a suit.
And Africans collected money to buy the rest of my clothes.
Upon arrival at the airport, 10, 000 Congolese were shouting:
Down with the colonialists!
Down with colonialism!
We want independence right now!
And it was a whole other ballgame...
We heard rifle shots.
Right after, we saw bodies laying all over.
People asked: "Why?
What have we done?"
I was sentenced to six months in prison
because no one would point at the colonials.
Thirty Congolese murdered for no plausible reason.
A challenging adventure lies ahead of you.
I'm Patrice Lumumba.
I'm delighted with the results of the Round Table conference.
On June 30th,
the Congolese people will gain their freedom.
Let me assure the Belgians that a lasting friendship
will remain between our countries.
We needed a song to make everybody dance
and kick off our independence
that was so hard to achieve.
Colonel Vandewalle, you were head of Intelligence
in the Belgian Congo:
When you saw the list of ministers
of Lumumba's government
you smiled as you discovered
that some had been your intelligence assets?
Yes, correct.
Within his cabinet at least three guys were ours.
Backstage deals by elite circles
conspired during the Round Table.
So, what does this independence mean
if tomorrow we're sucked dry by new masters?
What is the significance of this independence
if tomorrow, it is to set us against each other?
All my life I kept wondering:
"I was in a hole.
But what was that hole?"
Only 50 years later
I realized that it was a chicken coop.
It was right after Congo's Independence.
We got independent on June 30th.
We were all living at Karawa at the time,
in the northeast of Congo.
Shortly after they sent the Belgian paratroopers in.
So the war started.
My mother had married Mr. Casse.
A Belgian man.
And he had a 19-year-old son with the ex-wife of my stepdad
and he was in military service.
But the Congolese soldiers discovered Mr. Casse had a son
among the Belgian paratroopers.
"This guy married our Congolese sister
and now he's sending his son to kill us.
So let's kill his children ."
That's how the soldiers arrived at our place.
I grabbed my brother Claude and my sister Jacqueline
and rushed to hide in a hole.
Strange that it all came back to me 50 years later.
I was walking in a street of Brussels.
The sun was shining.
I could smell chicken poop.
The inside of a chicken coop is magical.
There are feathers all around.
They shine, they look like diamonds.
Feathers everywhere...
My little brother was a bit boisterous
and started moving so they caught us.
Then everybody screamed:
"Kill them! Kill the whites! Kill the kids of the whites."
Then, a soldier entered my step dad's store
and came out with a brand new machete.
When my mother saw the machete,
something clicked in her mind.
She looked at him and said,
"Hey you! Where are you going with this machete?
You took this machete from my husband's store.
You didn't pay for it!"
My mom was very fond of money.
"You didn't pay for it
and you want to kill his kids with it.
Are you not ashamed?"
So he froze, holding his machete.
And the soldiers left.
Thanks to my mom's words,
who taught me that in life
one should never remain silent.
Never!
It's 16:03 here at Leopoldville airport.
A hectic activity is on display
with the arrival of his Majesty King Baudouin.
And the King appears
in his ivory-white uniform.
He shakes hands with Chief of State Joseph Kasa-Vubu.
He shakes hands with Prime Minister Lumumba.
The independence of the Congo
crowned the work,
initiated by the genius of King Leopold I I
undertaken by his undaunted courage
and carried on with perseverance by Belgium.
Mr. Lumumba's speech indeed took us by surprise.
And...
one cannot deny that his speech has caused...
a huge disappointment.
And this speech was seen as very distasteful.
What role will the Congolese Army play
in the newly independent Congo?
In the newly independent Congo,
the role of the Congolese Army
will remain the same role it always played since 1886
when Leopold I I created this army.
But do you see any break with the past,
or will the situation really remain the same?
There will be no break whatsoever with the past.
I was General Janssens.
But now, not anymore.
Sirs, here we are! Isn't it?
We have decided to declare the independence of Katanga.
Behind us, is the chimney.
As long as it still smokes, all seems well in Katanga.
Everything super-duper!
We won't let it get to our hearts!
Indeed super-duper here in Katanga!
For now at least.
The interests of mighty monopolies
pushed Belgium to snatch away the richest province, Katanga.
Securing raw materials for nuclear weapons,
uranium, cobalt, titanium, cheap labor,
that's why they plot against the Congo...
whose strings extend from Brussels
to the major NATO capitals.
I'm visiting the United States
to meet the UN Secretary-General
and ask for his support
to remove the Belgian troops
from the territory of our republic.
The coup was plotted by the Belgian government
who sent a general
to command the Katangese army.
The Belgian government has no right
to install its military in our country.
Just as the Belgian government has no right
to invade the U.S. with its military bases.
In Washington, I stayed
at the presidential guest house.
But the Belgian government protested:
"Why had the U.S. government
extended such a distinguished welcome to a dirty nigger?"
The Congo should take center stage
in the movement for a free Africa.
Mr. Hammarskjöld has accepted
the invitation of the Belgian government.
He then had an audience with the King.
I've explained once more
to the UN Secretary-General the situation of Katanga
where the economy has resumed.
Totally impossible in the rest of the Congo
where so much is destroyed
which was built with so many sacrifices
not to satisfy colonial or imperial aspirations
but to complete a mission of civilization
for the benefit of a less developed people
that for its salvation and ascension
so much depends on the white people
and the Belgians.
The Treachery of Images
is the title of a painting
representing a pipe
with a caption:
"This is not a pipe."
Because the image of a pipe is not a pipe.
The 5th of September, 1960,
we have revoked Premier Patrice Lumumba.
Today, without consulting Parliament,
without asking advice of the elected government,
Mr. Kasa-Vubu has betrayed us.
I proclaim that Kasa-Vubu,
who plotted with the Belgians,
is no longer Chief of State.
This is shameful.
The UN forces invited
by the legal government of Patrice Lumumba
took over the airports and the radio station.
They made it possible for a treacherous puppet regime
to take over the Congo...
We reject any intervention.
The Congo will never become a colony of the United Nations.
This is a reconquest!
The coup d'état,
this whole campaign against me
is conceived by the Congolese people
as a campaign against
the independence we had achieved.
Lumumba addressed
the international press:
"Hammarskjöld has lost our trust."
The United Nations is failing in the Congo.
Who is responsible?
Hello.
This is Colonel Mobutu speaking from Leopoldville.
The Congolese Army has decided to neutralize
the Head of State.
It's obvious...
It's obvious that the image of a pipe is not a pipe.
Life is often monotonous and tedious...
That's why television offers you a distraction.
If I return to Belgium today
it's in the first place
to show my respect to the King.
Long live the Queen!
For days, our house had been surrounded
by troops armed with machine guns.
We expected the dreaded knock on the door any time.
Then, one early morning...
two jeeps stopped in front of the house.
Gilbert M'Pongo, government deputy,
delivered my expulsion order.
The soldiers crowded into the house,
making themselves at home...
asking for food and drinks.
Playing with my children, Eve-Sylviane and Patrick,
allowing them to handle their weapons
to the children's delight.
I had anticipated this goodbye.
Still, at the last moment,
I couldn't really accept what was happening.
The order specified: "Madame Blouin."
"My children," I begged.
"No, your children and husband can't join you,"
replied M'Pongo.
At the airport, before departure,
he reminded me that my loved ones
were being held hostage.
"Don't forget!
Not a word to the international press
or it will cost them dearly!"
We announced that I would head
the Soviet delegation.
That poured oil on the fire.
The American press was furious.
Cursing the Soviet Union at the top of their lungs.
Nehru would come from India.
Tito from Yugoslavia.
And Macmillan from Great Britain.
I declare the opening
of the 15th UN General Assembly.
To attend the 15th U.N. General Assembly
the Cuban delegation travels to New York
headed by the Prime Minister and leader of the revolution:
Fidel Castro.
Castro was throwing
thunder and lightning
when he was kicked out of his hotel.
Being a former guerrillero,
he threatened to pitch his tent in front of the U.N.!
It was crucial to pay Castro a visit
to expose America's policy
towards both the Afro-Americans and the Cuban delegation.
When I encountered Castro
for the first time, he made a deep impression:
here was this huge, tall person with a black beard.
We embraced each other.
"Embrace" is perhaps an understatement.
He literally bent down to envelop me
with his whole body!
By hugging, Fidel and Nikita
bring Cubans and Soviets closer.
In my capacity as President
of the Republic of Congo,
I hereby announce the make-up of my delegation.
The dirty job in the Congo
was carried out
by U.N. Secretary-General Hammarskjöld.
History will not forgive you.
A man who has trampled down elementary justice has no place
at such an important position
as that of the Secretary-General.
Welcoming Nehru from India.
Welcoming Nkrumah from Ghana.
Fidel Castro embarks on his historical speech
personifying for the first time
the rebel voice of Latin America.
The case of Cuba
is like that of the Congo.
The colonialist intrusion was obvious.
We condemn
how the U.N. forces
intervened in the Congo.
The only true leader who kept defending
the interests of his country, is...
Lumumba.
The U.N. Secretary-General claimed:
"Katanga is basically kept alive by money
from Union Miniėre?"
Don't forget that I'm a politician.
And many of my enemies call me the "Cash Register."
In fact, Union Minière is not paying us,
we're actually supporting them.
Patrice Lumumba continued to fight.
No one dared execute him yet, as planned.
Not for lack of hatred,
but because Patrice Lumumba still impressed his enemies.
He knew that he was still the legal prime minister
but invisible hands were strangling him,
and those hands came from far away.
Very far.
The Belgian government
is completely opposed to the use of mercenaries.
There is not one Belgian mercenary in Katanga.
Belgium is neither colonialist
nor neo-colonialist
nor imperialist.
You are what we call a Simba?
Yes. I'm a Simba.
- How old are you? - I'm 20 years old.
- Exactly 20 years old. - Exactly.
Independence was never achieved.
Independence came with very limited sovereignty...
but economically speaking, we were nowhere.
Why were we colonized?
Where is our wealth going?
We have diamonds, gold,
copper, tin, all you know...
Were they really hostages
or were you planning to kill them?
They were hostages.
They were there to keep planes away.
To prevent the planes from bombing us.
When we kept the hostages under threat,
there were no more bombings.
We'll make this work at all costs.
We'll make a pact with the devil
to reunite the Congo.
End of story.
Would you personally have killed
the European hostages?
Yes, I would have executed them.
Considering how we were bombed.
It's like...
being killed as wild animals.
At times, the military
would capture villagers.
They would encircle them like this
and call them out:
"Is this your daughter? Or your son?"
Parents were then forced
to have sex with their own children
in front of everybody.
I'm fighting in Africa
for freedom and democracy.
Our operation in the Congo is a NATO operation.
Jacopetti arrived.
I received information from General Mobutu
that he was authorized to take pictures.
Jacopetti is a good movie director.
Perhaps he said, "Listen, here's a man being shot,
put him a bit more to the left, so the sun shines better."
When I stayed in Leopoldville, I often visited
the Goethe-institute.
Certainly, it's an institute of the Federal Republic.
But I have to say
we were running things along two lines.
We're running an "official" and an "unofficial" politics.
I've attended piano concerts at the Goethe-Institute.
I'm not a man who just kills niggers.
We didn't know how to advance.
We had to build a bridge to cross a river.
It was dark and we decided to wait till morning to cross.
But the next morning,
the military attacked us by surprise.
Some escaped along the river.
Some were killed on the spot.
Mulele, me, and a few partisans fell into the river.
We stayed in the water
from morning till eight at night.
The water up till here.
While holding our bags and our rifles above the water.
The song tells:
"They lied when we were told that women aren't strong.
But through what we lived,
we realized that women are strong."
Mobutu's bandits brutally tortured
their prisoners.
With the support of American and Belgian colonizers,
the legally elected prime minister
of the Congo, Patrice Lumumba,
and his comrades were arrested.
The colonialists say
that Lumumba is a communist.
Clearly, Lumumba is not a communist, but a patriot.
But isn't it time to end colonialism?
Some have yet to recognize their strength and truth.
They still follow yesterday's lynchers, their colonizers.
Perhaps today, but not tomorrow.
It just won't happen!
The people will rise
and straighten their backs to become their own masters
instead of being lackeys and slaves of the colonizers.
Keep this in mind, gentlemen.
This day will come sooner than you think.
Death to colonial slavery!
Bury it!
Bury it deep in the ground!
The deeper, the better!
We knew the U.S. would vote
for our resolution with grinding teeth.
So we put the U.S. In a real dilemma.
If they would vote against us,
they would look like the colonizers.
We owe it to ourselves
to write our own story.
Look at "the opening of the Zaire border" at the time
decided by Westerners.
It's U.N. Resolution 929.
I know it by heart.
I could describe how from then onwards
it's genocide after genocide after genocide
and finally the Congo War.
In five minutes.
Everyone looks away.
The U.N. only observes.
It costs $2 billion per month.
They're in the DR Congo for almost 25 years.
They were able to capture Lumumba
because of the U.N.
Lumumba was under U.N. protection.
Today, it's the same thing.
On January 17, 1961,
you were at the Elisabethville airport
when Lumumba, Mpolo, and Okito arrived.
How come you were at the Elisabethville airport?
I was told an important package would arrive:
the three persons in question.
How were they at that moment?
They were alive, but in what condition?
They were alive.
As far as I can tell from where I stood...
they were not necessarily in a state of "dying."