A modern Frankenstein

I may as well begin with my favourite news story of the year so far, a sort of 21st century recreation of Frankenstein, from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The overambitious scientist has become Kisimba Ngoy, an eager politician and party leader impatient for advancement.

In July 2006, the country held its first multi-party general elections in 46 years. This was a delicate process in the extreme; democracy was largely propped up by the world's largest United Nations peacekeeping operation and substantial foreign donations. After a second-round run-off, Joseph Kabila was elected as president. That Kabila is the son of Laurent-Desire Kabila, an unelected warlord whose 1997 coup both kickstarted ten years of bloody central African conflict and allowed his son to campaign from the advantageous position of incumbent, is the sort of concession that occurs when democracy collides with Africa. Upon election, Kabila chose Antonie Gizenga as his prime minister. Gizenga was charged with assembling a cabinet and he requested coalition parties nominate two candidates for each position, from which he would choose his ministers.

The Victor Frankenstein figure, Kisimba Ngoy, was the leader of the Union des Nationalistes Fédéralistes du Congo (UNAFEC) party and nominated both himself, and his young deputy, 34-year-old Andre Kasongo Ilunga for the role of foreign trade minister. Despite Ilunga's meteoric rise to an advanced political role, UNAFEC's disappointing performance at the polls (where they recorded just 1.4 per cent of the vote, entitling them to a mere seven seats in the 500-seat national assembly) and reports of his willingness to intimidate opponents (see here) Kisimba was supremely confident of victory. Why? Because Ilunga did not exist. Kisimba made him up.

This being Africa, there was at least one twist in the tale. When it came to appointing his ministers, Gizenga, no doubt aware of Kisimba's chequered record, chose Ilunga, a man he had never met, much less ever worked with. If Kisimba were cunning, he may has responded by paying a stooge to act as Ilunga. One can only imagine the consequences. However, like his literacy antecendent, Kisimba had lost control of his creation. Instead, he did nothing. Ilunga, not surprisingly, was uncontactable in the period between the announcement of the cabinet and date of the ministers taking up their positions. This was eventually taken up by the Congolese press, who tagged Ilunga as 'le ministre fantôme' ('the phantom minister'). When news reached Gizenga, he was told that Ilunga had resigned for 'secret reasons', which were outlined in a private letter addressed to (guess who) Kisimba Ngoy. When, growing impatient, Gizenga demanded Ilunga attend an official job interview, the press attention ensured a host of people proporting to be Ilunga showed up. This perhaps is exactly what Gizenga deserved after his unorthodox approach of insisting on an interview after making an appointment.

By 4 March, Ngoy's creation had returned to finish him off. As the only man to have ever met Ilunga and the man in the possession of the mysterious resignation letter, his position was shaky. The AFP news agency reported that Kisimba had been sacked for

"irresponsible and unacceptable behaviour... by proposing a person fictitious and unknown to party structure for the post of foreign trade minister".

Ilunga meanwhile, has improbably survived. As Gizenga's chosen candidate, he continues to sit invisibly in the country's cabinet, a symbol of what remains to be done to make democracy a reality in the Congo.