Note :
Tim Butcher is officially a diamond geezer. He's just joined Goodreads and read my review below and still sent me a thank you message today. Rereading the below review, I think some authors could have taken umbrage because, well, it's actually quite cheeky. The word pompous is used. Some fun is poked. Given some of the frankly unsavoury, if not downright ugly, author/reviewer encounters there have been on this site, I therefore salute Tim.
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A BOOK WHICH DESERVES TWO REVIEWS – FIRST, THE CHURLISHLY CYNICAL
“My Congo journey deserved its own category : ordeal travel.”
p216
I hereby announce my ordeal reading challenge. I will read the complete works of Gertrude Stein, Samuel Beckett and Georges Perec in reverse alphabetical order whilst listening to Karlheinz Stockhausen’s Helicopter Symphony, John Cage’s Atlas Elipticalis and Trout Mask Replica which will be played continually on a giant loop tape. All the time, ladies and gentlemen, I will be suspended – suspended I say - and gradually lowered into – a tank containing 127 tarantula spiders and a life-sized model of Richard Nixon.
Surely corporate sponsors will be falling over themselves in a bid to offer me large amounts of sponsorship cash to fund my bizarre self-indulgent fantasy.
Chat show host : “What was it like?”
PB : "Well, my torso was firmly anchored to the ceiling by this ingenious contraption specially made by the brilliant engineers at Unilever (ka-ching!). Therefore I wasn’t too concerned I would fall into the tank of tarantulas manufactured by Pilkingtons Glass blah blah blab blab."
Yes, I will be admired far and wide for my feat – I will explain that it was a challenge I had to take on, it came from deep within me, I had been wrestling for many years with the twin problems of how to bring 20th century avant-garde literature to a wider audience and also how to get on the chat show circuit and here I am being asked to explain Oulipo to a daytime TV audience – I feel I may say – mission accomplished!
SECOND REVIEW : TAKING TIM BUTCHER AT HIS WORD
As Tim Butcher grinds his way across the Congo by 100cc motorbike, dugout canoe and barge, he is filled with a rising sense of despair:
“the normal laws of development are inverted here in the Congo. The forest, not the town, offers the safest sanctuary and it is grandfathers who have been more exposed to modernity than their grandchildren. I can think of nowhere else on the planet where the same can be true.” p141
Verond Ali Matongo : “I am the mayor of Kasongo, appointed by the transitional government in Kinshasa. But I have no contact with them because we have no phone, and I can pay no civil servants because I have no money and there is no bank or post office where money could be received and we have no civil servants because all the schools and hospitals and everything do not work. I would say I am just waiting. Waiting for things to get back to normal.”
Tim Butcher : “And when was the last time things were normal?”
VAM : “The 1950s. From what I hear, that is when this town was last normal.” p 162
“Some of the best coffee in the world used to be grown neat Kisangani but now the finest hotel in the city served only imported Nescafe” p256
This is the whole of the truth Tim has to tell us about the Congo (third largest country in Africa in size, fourth in population). It’s going backwards. Everything in the whole country – schools, roads, hospitals, trains, rivers, everything, was not just slightly but hugely better fifty years ago.
Like previous white men in the Congo, Tim couldn’t get anywhere without Africans doing all the heavy lifting. Sometimes these helpers get paid, other times they’re just being kind. He steps from one situation to another like Harold Lloyd or Popeye stepping from one skyscraper girder to another. He finds some guys with pirogues (canoes) at the riverside, picks out the likeliest looking group, hires them on the spot to take him way way down the river where he has to get to a priest’s house in a particular town (the only safe place) in order to go from there to the UN compound the next day where he can cadge a ride to the next town. When they get to the town “Malike said he knew the way to the priest’s house and I was banking on him being right”. I bet you were, Tim! There’s a recurrent strangeness to these travellers’ tales – in the middle of a disaster zone you can easily find the kindness of strangers. I remember a famous BBC war correspondent being interviewed and the question was how the hell do you get around inside a war zone and he said “I just walk out of my hotel and ask the first few people I see what’s going on and how do I get there and they’re always very kind and helpful” – well, you have to take their word for it. But somebody must be doing all those bad things…
“time and again during my journey with Benoit and Odimba I was struck by just how much tougher and more resilient than me they were”
p 148
“Kisangani.. I found it to be chaotically administered by inept, corrupt local politicians” p255
p309-10
This division of people into those Tim met (all good, strong, resourceful) and those causing all the problems (very bad people) was not altogether helpful in figuring anything out. Eventually Tim has to bite the bullet and ask the big question. He approaches it like this. He’s on a UN barge with Captain Ali who is from Malaysia.
Captain Ali : “I don’t know what it is about these Congolese people, or Africa in general, but look at this wasted opportunity… In Malaysia people make millions from palm oil. It is one of the most valuable commodities in the world right now… [and the plants from which it comes grow all over the Congo:]. But the Congo people. They don’t want to make money for themselves. They just wait to take money from others.” …he had distilled the quintessential problem of Africa that generations of academics, intellectuals and observers have danced around since the colonial powers withdrew. Why are Africans so bad at running Africa?”
Tim dismisses the stock answers – neo-colonialism, foreign meddling, rapacious multinational companies – as so much liberal huffing and puffing. Yes, they are elements, but they are by no means the whole story. But he gives no answer of his own. He has no idea. It’s such a dangerous question to ask – there are, after all, a thousand racists out there who think they know the answer.
Apart from the hundreds of miles of the Congo where there is no single element of modern technology to be found, the towns which were thriving once and have been rusting and crumbling for 40 years, the forests which are empty of animal cries because the local villagers have eaten them all, Tim stumbles (often literally) on perfect examples of things profoundly not working. At one point he realises he’s on the Ubundu-Kisangani road. Before the trip, back in London, he’d been told by the British Government’s Department for International Development that this road had already been developed and upgraded following the 2002 peace treaty. British taxpayers’ money had been spent on it. Tim finds no such thing of course. The once-four-lane highway is now a single track footpath. Nothing has been done. The money had vanished, who knows where. Moreover, the British government department officials never come along to check, so they are still blithely telling anyone who asks that the Ubundu-Kisangi road has been upgraded and is now suitable for cars and heavy goods vehicles.
In the end Tim says : “in six harrowing weeks of travel I felt I had touched the heart of Africa and found it broken”. He does himself no favours with this uncharacteristically pompous sentence, but still, I admire all who excavate difficult truths from such hard-won experience as this. I have to admit, grudgingly, that Tim Butcher has earned his chat show appearances.
Tom Myanwaya : “What makes you do this sort of thing? I would not travel anywhere in this country except by plane. I don’t think I can stand more than a few months and I will leave as soon as I can. There are some jobs in the aid world which you have to do to get on.” p156