The Congo: Premier No. 4

The new ministers filed awkwardly into the palatial reception room overlooking the rapids of the Congo River, then raised their right arms stiffly as they took the oath of. office. Some of them got the phrase backward, but that didn’t seem to matter. Premier Moise Tshombe grinned, clapped his new government on the back, and capered with flailing fists in a mad jig down the bright green lawn as his admirers screamed their approval: “Down with Adoula and vive Tshombe.” Thus the Congo’s fourth Premier in as many years began his rule.

“Public Salvation.” It had been a masterful performance so far. When Katanga’s bulky ex-President returned to the Congo last month, it seemed incredible that he could hope to form a government. Cursed as a tool of Belgium’s copper-producing Union Minie´re, accused by some of the murder of Patrice Lumumba, and driven out of the country by the force of United Nations arms, Tshombe appeared to have nothing in his favor.

But he still had Katanga, and without the political support of that ore-packed province the Congo is just another bleak, hopeless stretch of African bush. It was clear that Cyrille Adoula’s government could not repress the Communist-backed revolts flaming in three provinces when Tshombe finally returned. Why not let him take a crack at forming a “government of national reconciliation”?

But the government he produced last week was hardly reconciled. Tshombe himself described it as one of mere “public salvation,” and the few names recognizable within it were more notorious than noteworthy: as Agriculture Minister he chose Kasai’s Mulopwe (god-emperor) Albert Kalonji, a secessionist right-winger who is still formally charged by Adoula’s government with torturing political prisoners. The new Health Minister is none other than Andre´ Lubaya, a key official in the Communist-backed National Liberation Committee, which runs the Congo’s endemic provincial rebellions. Recognizing the dangers of giving more portfolios to potential enemies, Tshombe took the ministries of Foreign Trade, Planning, Information and Foreign Affairs for himself, named his old Katanga henchman Godefroid Munongo to head the Interior and Civil Service ministries.

Woman Trouble. The remaining seven Cabinet posts—with the exception of Defense, which President Joseph Kasavubu wisely retained—were turned over to nonentities. In fact, when Tshombe introduced his Cabinet to the public, he stared blankly for agonizing moments at Youth and Sports Minister Joseph Ndanu, unable to recall his name.

Tshombe’s eagerly awaited announcement of a government had been delayed by a full 24 hours when Adoula tried to force a woman into his Cabinet. She was Catherine Tshibamba, attractive young wife of the Congo’s first doctor. Though women do not have the vote in the Congo under the new constitution, they may well get it before the next elections nine months from now. Adoula wanted to win a few votes, embarrass Tshombe, and prove that Catherine was at least as qualified to sit in the Cabinet as God-Emperor Kalonji. Only a nighttime call from Tshombe himself convinced Premier Adoula to drop Catherine.

At his first Cabinet meeting, Tshombe served champagne and Simba beer, then took three steps toward appeasing the N.L.C. and other dissident left-wingers. He ordered all political prisoners—including Leftist Antoine Gizenga —released immediately; he lifted the highly unpopular 5 p.m. curfew in Leopoldville; he abolished the post of Resident Minister in Stanleyville, thus ending the state of emergency in that Lumumbist stronghold. All of this was intended to change Tshombe’s image from that of a white-hearted “sellout” to a true black African leader. But just in case it didn’t work, the Congo’s new Premier took out a little insurance. Tshombe ordered his 2,000 tough Katangese gendarmes and their white mercenary officers back from their sanctuary in Angola. For a while at least, they should tide him over the rough spots that certainly lie ahead.