Congo: Mugabe's money mine. White Zimbabwean new CEO of Gecamine!
Sunday Telegraph, November 8.
By Christina Lamb
WHILE Zimbabwean troops are dying in the civil war in the Congo, ministers,
generals and close associates of Robert Mugabe are making fortunes. All the
time, the war is taking Zimbabwe's economy ever closer to collapse.
Last week Harare erupted in the worst riots since President Mugabe took
office after independence in 1980. Yet Mugabe not only seems oblivious, but
is draining the economy by an estimated £1 million per day in keeping a third
of his army in the Congo fighting a war in which few Zimbabweans believe.
"There is only one motive which makes sense, however sickening," said a
diplomat, "and that is the King Robert theory." According to this, Mugabe is
sending young men to die to safeguard his commercial interests in the
mineral-rich republic, like some kind of latterday King Leopold, the Belgian
coloniser who made the Congo his personal fiefdom.
Mugabe denies that he has private interests in the Congo. His spokesman,
George Charamba, said: "President Mugabe is very much involved in the
economic affairs of the Congo to the extent that this government has entered a
trade and investment agreement and is now attempting to operationalise this.
I'm not aware of government officials benefiting but there are many
Zimbabweans on a private level who may want to take advantage of the new
framework and we're exhorting them to do so."
But from white farmers to unemployed blacks, the perception in Zimbabwe is
that Mugabe's main motivation for helping the crumbling regime of Laurent
Kabila, the current ruler of the Congo, is greed.
In mid-August, the Zimbabwean President led the call for southern Africa to
come to Kabila's aid when Tutsi-led rebels from the east were poised to
capture the capital, Kinshasa. Zimbabwe sent in 2,800 men, tanks and
transport aircraft, and managed to push the rebels back to the east.
As an apparent quid pro quo, the Congolese government gave Mugabe and
his cronies a raft of lucrative commercial contracts. For instance First
Banking, a Harare company in which Mugabe's ruling Zanu-PF has a
controlling stake, recently got a licence to open in Kinshasa. But more
lucrative by far was the signing over of the right to market cobalt, one of the
Congo's most valuable natural resources.
The marketing monopoly used to belong to a Congolese state-owned
company called Gecamine. However it was transferred to a firm called
Ridgepoint, which is partly owned by Wheels of Africa, a conglomerate run
by Billy Rautenbach, a white Zimbabwean said by colleagues to have the ear
of Mugabe. Ridgepoint is registered in the British Virgin Islands, where the
names of company directors do not have to be given.
Ridgepoint was also granted the concession for operating Kababankola, one
of the Congo's most lucrative cobalt mines generating $3 million in revenue a
month. Then, in a announcement on Friday, Mr Rautenbach was named as
new chief executive of Gecamine. "That's handing over your most valuable
resources to a foreigner," said a British mining analyst. "You wouldn't agree
that unless you owed someone a huge favour."
Mr Rautenbach is currently in the Congo and could not be reached, but a
lawyer at his company said: "I'm aware of no links with the Mugabe
government." He said that negotiations for the concession began before war in
the Congo broke out. However he said: "I only draw up the agreements. I
don't know what happens behind the political scenes."
The Wall Street Journal reported that Congolese businessmen claimed that
those present at the negotiations for the cobalt mines included Emerson
Mnangagwa, the Zimbabwean justice minister, and another man representing
Mugabe's personal interests.
The ruling elite in Zimbabwe is making money out of the Congo in other ways,
too. Lt Col Dube, head of the state-owned Zimbabwe Defence Industries
(ZDI), who has just returned from Kinshasa, says: "We've been supplying
millet, beans, and uniforms to the Congo and are hoping for more contracts to
supply foodstuffs to all government departments and the army. These
contracts could be worth anything from $1 million to $20 million."
The contracts are paid in cash, which Col Dube says is because of "the
fragility of the banking system" but makes transactions hard to trace.
However, Col Dube says that "sending troops to the Congo is not motivated
by economic reasons but political principles. It would be very unwise to
sacrifice our men for money but if economic opportunities arise, we take them
like anyone else".
Among many such "economic opportunities" is the contract for transporting
men and materiel into the Congo. The trucking company is owned by
Zimbabwe's army chief, Major General Vitalis Zvinavashe, who is also overall
commander of the joint forces backing Kabila.
Many of the companies with lucrative contracts for the supply of everything
from blankets to fish are state-owned. As Zimbabwe is basically a one-party
state, this means they are controlled by Zanu-PF and do not list shareholders.
But an official from the Zimbabwe Confederation of Industry said: "Zanu-PF
is Mugabe". The IMF last year suspended payment to Zimbabwe partly
because of the slow pace of privatisation of the companies owned by
Zanu-PF.
The list of Zimbabwean involvement in the Congo goes on and on. A fax
obtained by The Telegraph shows Robert Mhlanga, Director General of
Supporting Services in the Zimbabwe Air Force, negotiating an
arms-for-diamonds deal whereby SA Trust, a South African company, would
supply weapons in return for Congolese diamonds.
All these deals would be imperiled were the rebels to overthrow Kabila. Col
Dube says: "We're owed quite a lot of money but we know they're under
pressure." Three weeks ago, after rebels took the strategic town of Kindu,
Mugabe told the press, "we will go to the east" in a Napoleonic show of
bravado. The decision means a vast extra commitment. Zimbabwe's defence
spending is being increased by 46 per cent to 12 per cent of total government
expenditure.
Military analysts in Harare estimate that Zimbabwe will need to field 20,000
troops to avoid being routed in the eastern Congo, where the rebels have
considerable support. Zimbabwe is clearly in no position to take on such a
struggle. Its currency, the Zim dollar has fallen by half in the last six months
and inflation is at 40 per cent. In the capital there are water shortages and the
streets are piled with rubbish because bankrupt city authorities cannot afford
to pay workers (even though a new £700,000 mansion for the mayor is
currently under construction). The health service is being stretched beyond
limits by the Aids epidemic which kills 750 people a week.
To most of Zimbabwe's 12 million population, the Congo has become a dirty
word, symbolising all that is wrong with the Mugabe administration. People
are losing their fear of speaking out, as last week's riots demonstrated. The
defence minister made a public appeal for calm after soldiers and riot police
were called out in Harare to quell angry mobs stoning and burning cars and
buses in protest at a 40 per cent increase in bus fares.
Discontent is simmering over delays in a promised land redistribution
programme, and though Mugabe has been persuaded by donor nations to go
quiet on the subject, white farmers whose land has been threatened are no
longer investing, unsure of what the future holds.
Morgan Tsvangarayi, leader of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions,
said: "Every day people are getting poorer while they see the corruption of the
ruling elite becoming more and more blatant. It is getting hard to contain their
anger. This pigheaded venture of sending troops to a war in which we have no
conceivable interest could be the last straw." In a regime not known for its tolerance, some fear that pushing too hard will make it more ruthless. Tsvangarayi was recently beaten unconscious by thugs.
Most people believe the government has been lying about the number of
casualties in the Congo. So far it has admitted only eight dead and 30
casualties. Families of victims are scared to talk, worried the government will
withhold their pensions. Casualties are likely to be much higher now that the
troops are moving east and as body bags come back, feelings are bound to
run high.
Charlotte Mutangara is already fearful. Her husband is in the army and has
just received his orders to move to the Congo. Measuring out four spoonfuls
of rice onto enamel plates for each of her six small daughters in a shack on the
outskirts of Harare, she frowns. She says: "If anything happens to my husband
I don't know how I'd feed them. We can't understand why we're getting
involved in the problems of another country when we have so many difficulties
here."
Students at Zimbabwe university are preparing anti-Vietnam style
demonstrations. Whether Congo proves to be Mugabe's nemesis might hinge
on a meeting this week with business and union leaders, who will demand the
withdrawal of troops from the Congo.
Some believe it is already too late. "Mugabe must go," says Paula Conceiÿao,
staring at the empty tables of her once thriving restaurant where now only
tourists and government members can afford to eat, "otherwise we'll have civil
war."
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