Why Patrice Had to Go (Pt 2)

📅 March 23, 2026

Barely five days after independence, the first crises struck. This would be the first in the long line of madnesses.

The night before there had been an incident of insubordination. The commanding officer, a hardnosed Belgian by the name of General Emile Janssens responded to this by gathering the Congolese soldiers, picking up a chalk and writing on the black board for all to see:

Before Independence = After Independence

It was an extremely provocative statement, one that sparked a riot and, just down the street, stirred the very soldiers sent to contain it into mutiny. Through that night, every Belgian and European they could find became a target for premium beating.

God forbid that Lumumba help matters in matters concerning the Belgians. In his characteristically short manner, he flew into a rage, accusing the Belgian government of attempting to undermine his government, and promptly dismissing the general along with every Belgian in the ranks. The Congolese troops who replaced them were not prepared for this. They were just a pitiful bunch of poorly equipped, poorly trained and loosely disciplined wimps. What followed was a crash of order and surge of lawlessness on a scale that panicked the white community into fleeing, ultimately compelling the Belgian authorities to forcibly intervene with troops to protect their citizens.

Now, Lumumba was really, really, really furious. A nation sending her troops into another sovereign nation, in his opinion, was a declaration of war. Just as he had thought, hadn’t they been trying to depose him all this while? His response to that was to return the favor and declare war on Belgium (which was a little laughable). This was the least of his problems. A second crises was on the way, and it came rather swiftly.

Katanga – rich, strategic, the diamond capital of the world, and deeply tied to Western interests – seized on the chaos and, in collusion with Belgian authorities, declared itself an independent state. The man who stepped forward to proclaim himself president was an unknown idiot, a corrupt man by the name of Moise Tshombe. This was a huge, huge problem. If they succeeded in seceding, there was no question others would take cue and follow suit. Because he had fallen out with the very people that would (or might) have helped crush the move to secede, he was left with an army whom, as I have said, was just totally incapable of dealing with such a situation – or any situation at all. To make a shit matter even more hopeless, even the United States (in all their generosity) had refused his request to send in the Marines.

Desperate, he turned to the U.N for support. He was lucky. In three days, they had sent 3,000 troops with a promise of 10,000 more in a fortnight.

But a man like Patrice was not easily satisfied. He flew into another wild rage when he realized two things; that the troops were there not for war, but to negotiate the removal of the Belgian troops, and that they certainly weren’t there to crush the secessionists. These were internal issues, they said. And the UN weren’t wont to take on internal issues with force.

Ralph Bunche was the head of UN operations in the Congo at the time, and for all what he was trying to make him understand, this sounded no more than a Latin riddle to the furious Lumumba who, according to Ralph was “crazy” and “behaved like a child”.

There were no lies told. Patrice had made it clear that unless Ralph removed all Belgian troops by midnight within three days, he would invite the Soviet Union to intervene

These was the 60s, the height of the Cold War. Reckless statements like these were things that got people killed. Patrice didn’t give a shit. What he wanted was what he wanted.

For a man who had just threatened to involve the Soviets, showing up at the White House was the most unexpected, batshit crazy thing, but Patrice Lumumba was not known for not being impulsive. He appeared, tired but determined. Uninvited.

There were no national honors. No fanfare. At the lowkey official dinner, a finger bowl meant for washing hands was passed which Patrice drank out of. At the end of the dinner, he pulled the American State Department’s officer assigned to him to the side.

I need a female companion, he whispered.

The officer was taken aback but managed to keep a straight face and steady voice.

What kind? The officer asked.

A little bit of thought later, the prime minister replied, Une blanch blonde.

A white blonde was promptly arranged.

The next morning, he woke up a happy man, expressing complete satisfaction with the choice.

                                   ___________

Whatever the White House had heard about Patrice, they had now been able to see up close and judge.

It was far from favorable.

In fact, it was safe to go on the assumption that “this Castro or worse” (according to Allen Dulles, CIA director) had been bought by the Communists. The National Review magazine was less economical in its critique. They termed him “a cheap embezzler, a schizoid agitator (half witch doctor, half Marxist), an opportunist ready to sell out to the highest bidder, ex-officio Big Chief Number One of a gang of jungle primitives strutting about in the masks of Cabinet Ministers.”

…he would never look you in the eye. He looked up at the sky, the US undersecretary of state observed. A tremendous flow of words came out his mouth… and (they) didn’t ever have any relation to the particular things that we wanted to discuss… an irrational, almost psychotic personality.

This was a dangerous animal, and dangerous animals ought not be kept in power, most especially those not suited to American interests. This was the general consensus of the White House. It was no less a different view of the U.N. He had convinced them that he was, indeed, an erratic, untrustworthy personality whose dealings with them were mostly a “bewildering series of pleas for assistance, threats, and ultimatums.”

Barely three weeks after his ill-fated visit to the White House, his fate was decided.

It started on the morning of August 18, 1960.

President Dwight Eisenhower walked into the Cabinet Room of the White House where the National Security Council sat. Seated with him were the Secretary of Defense, of Commerce, and the treasury. Also present was the CIA director. The agenda to be discussed was Africa, in this case, Congo.

Three days ago, Lumumba had made good on his threats. He had actually asked military assistance from the Soviets, and they had obliged him immediately, bringing in tanks, aircraft, crews and technicians. Their command was the wish of Lumumba, which was mainly two things, to secure a military victory in another problematic breakaway province, South Kasai, and then to march to Katanga to crush the secession and overthrow Moise Tshombe.

The United Nation was the vehicle for American foreign policy not just in Congo, but in that region. The appearance of the Soviets was interpreted, therefore, to mean the destruction of that policy since it was likely that the UN would be forced out.

According to Richard Biselli, the CIA Operations chief, “The President would have vastly preferred to have him taken care of some other way other than by assassination, but he regarded Lumumba as I did and a lot of other people did: as a mad dog… and he wanted the problem dealt with.”

The President turned to Dulles, and as recalled by Robert Johnson, “…said something — I can no longer remember his words — that came across to me as an order for the assassination of Lumumba.”

It was just one sentence, after which the room fell completely silent.

Robert Johnson was the official note taker for that meeting. When he would later ask his boss what to make of the comment, and whether to write it down, his boss would simply reply: Do not mention it.

                                      _______

Meanwhile in Congo, Patrice Lumumba had gone 360-degree crazy. Hundreds were getting massacred. 250,000 people had already been displaced. And all of these hardly included the diverse atrocities like rape, theft and looting. It seemed like the man was born to make enemies. He had fallen out with the U.N, fallen out with the U.S, long fallen out with Belgium, had fallen out with friends, advisors and anyone he perceived opposed him. His chief of staff, once trusted friend, he had fallen out with. And the Congolese people (at least, a lot of them), he had fallen out with. His only friends were the Soviets, and given his erratic nature, the clock was ticking on that friendship.

Joseph Kasa-Vubu had always been lazy, uninterested in the happenings of anything outside of his orbit of comfort and concern. While the country burned, he stayed idle, drinking beer and watching TV. It was only after an intervention and the urging of the Belgians and Americans that he finally decided to go to the radio and speak up, saying that since Lumumba had cast the country into an atrocious war, he had decided to revoke his appointment as prime minister.

It was said that after he had made that announcement (that had, apparently, been written for him) he had gone straight to sleep.

Lumumba on hearing that, in addition to being the stubborn goat he was, rushed to another radio station, accused Kasa-Vubu of treason and said that he, too, had dismissed him.

Now, the country was divided into two, a part declaring support for Kasa-Vubu, another declaring for Lumumba.

It would soon be three for on the 14th of September 1960, Colonel Mobutu Sese Seko, with the assistance of the CIA and the United Nations, stepped in and seized power.

He was 29, Patrice Lumumba’s former chief of staff of. The first thing he did was ‘sack’ Patrice Lumumba and expel the Russians with immediate effect.

Patrice, never one to follow a plan for long, found himself turning to the U.N., the very organization he had once tried to push out, for protection. They agreed. But his anger flared again within days, and he threatened to expel them “brutally” from the Congo with Soviet backing. And yet, only a few days later, he was back at their feet, pleading to help mend his rift with Kasa-Vubu.

Meanwhile, the CIA was pressing ahead with plans to assassinate him, experimenting with poison similar to elements present in Congo to make it more natural. This was to be applied to his food or even his toothbrush. The Belgians, working with Colonel Mobutu, had reached the same conclusion: that Lumumba could not simply be deposed, but eliminated. Neither plot succeeded, at least the CIA-backed one. The poison reached its expiry date before the man responsible for administering it could get to Congo. As for the Belgian plan, thanks to the protection of the United Nations and its soldiers stationed around Lumumba, he could not be touched. In truth, as long as he remained in that house, killing him would have been nearly impossible.

In November, under U.S. pressure, the UN recognized Joseph Kasa-Vubu’s government. For Patrice, there was nothing left to lose. He decided to establish a rival regime in Stanleyville.

“If I die,” he told a friend, “tant pis. The Congo needs martyrs.”

He set out, hiding in the boot of a vehicle. All might have gone well, and he might have reached Stanleyville safely had his impulsiveness and temper not gotten the better of him. He would stop the driver on occasion, confronting strangers, scolding them. Being who he was, it is impossible that this would go on for longer. Halfway there, he was recognized by soldiers and arrested, given the beating of the century, flown back to Leopoldville, and delivered to his arch-nemesis, Mobutu, who spat in his face, gave him a second beating of the century, and threw him into prison.

Even in prison, Patrice remained an extraordinary force. The Americans knew it, the Belgians knew it. His support among the people was staggering. Everyone understood he had to be neutralized, yet no one dared act. He could tear the country apart if released, and yet leaving him imprisoned only prolonged the tension. Even the soldiers assigned to guard him admitted his presence unsettled them.

Caught at a crossroads, his captors decided to send him to Katanga, where he would be left to fade away, a virtual death sentence. Katanga had been the first to secede so, clearly, he was despised there. He was put on a plane with Kataganese guards, beaten relentlessly: spat on, struck with rifle butts, his skull cracked, only to be beaten again until those who attacked him were themselves soaked in blood.

At about 10 p.m. of January 17, 1961, Patrice and two of his fellow captives were snatched from prison and driven thirty miles away. In their company were three Belgian military policemen, the Belgian police commissioner, a couple of ministers and Tshombe.

Their graves had already been dug.

Lumumba’s last words were, “You’re going to kill us, aren’t you?” to which he got a definitive “YES!” for a reply.

They were tied to a stake, mocked, and fired upon.

Patrice was the last to die.

They (the officers) had been drunk and had acted on their insobriety, but they soon realised the heftiness of what they had just done, killing him.

To avoid the repercussions of their part in it, they thought up a story; that Patrice and his friends had escaped detention, that they had been caught, beaten, and killed by patriotic villagers.

Armed with this seemingly plausible story, they went back to the graves where he'd been buried, dug him up and drove him a further one hundred and twenty miles away. Then they butchered him into tiny bits and threw the pieces into a barrel of sulphuric acid.

As for the skulls, they ground them up and scattered what remained of his bones and teeth in the wind on their way back.

It would be some 40 years later before the truth would be unraveled by the Belgian sociologist Ludo De Witte. The Belgian police commissioner would admit to personally hacking the body and keeping his gold tooth and two of his fingers as a “hunting trophy”. In 2002, Belgium formally apologized with their parliament concluding that, indeed, Belgium bore moral responsibility for the assassination. In 2022, the investigation was finalized and his remains (i.e, the gold tooth) were returned to his family.

Patrice Lumumba was many things; fiery, headstrong, stubborn. He had managed to make a lot of enemies in his short life, and even shorter tenure. But despite all of this, the nationalism he embodied, the fearlessness and absolute disregard for authority that sought to keep him, and his people underfoot was something no other leader in post-colonial Africa ever embodied.

                                         _______

 

Martin Meredith’s The State of Africa , which I ceaselessly talk about, has always been my go-to on all things Africa, especially her post-colonial history. I very shamelessly referred to it more times than I would like to admit in writing this article.

Other articles also aided in my research such as Politico Magazine’s 2023 article, How the U.S Issued It’s First Ever Order to Assassinate a Foreign Leader by Stuart A. Reid and Brian Urquhart’s Character Sketches: Patrice Lumumba.

Wherever these guys are, I thank them. They most certainly made a good student of history with their works, much the same way I hope to make great students of history with mine.

Whę kobiruo

______

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