Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
Evelyn hesitated, her features chiseled and aristocratic, her gaze direct.
“At first I didn't believe him, but then I thought about it. There were almost no Americans left
in Kinshasa, and Sally had appeared out of nowhere. She even spoke Lingala. I'd believed she was
there to work with bonobos, but how could I know? And her story about being broke. Maybe she
wasn't really broke. Americans weren't known for going broke in Kinshasa. So maybe she'd used
that as an excuse to get close to me. I couldn't imagine what the CIA might want with me, but those
were strange times, and during the war, anything seemed possible.”
Records suggest how strange life in Kinshasa must have been. Mobutu's regime had collapsed,
the elite fleeing with luxury items amassed over decades, and Laurent-Désiré Kabila had arrived,
a rebel and smuggler who knew nothing about running a country. As for the CIA, it had long had
a presence in the Congo. The country's natural resources had always received the attention that its
people did not, and the Congolese knew that most foreigners were there for the diamonds and gold.
Even in Kokolopori, people were often wary, asking if I was really there to see bonobos. At one
point, a teenage boy stepped from the shadow of the
paillote
near our hut and held out a copper
ingot. I took it, the chunk of metal easily weighing ten pounds. He told me that he found it while
digging in his garden and asked if I wanted to buy it. The men who usually lingered in the
paillote
all watched, eyes narrowed, waiting for my response, and I called to Marcel, who tromped out of
the hut in his rubber boots. He towered over the boy and asked a string of questions in Lingala, then
turned, snatched the copper, and went back to the hut.
“What was that about?” I asked him a few minutes later.
“
Ce garçon?
” he said, “that boy? He doesn't own the copper. I'll give it to the chief later. The
boy brought it just to see if maybe you're not really here for the bonobos. Everyone is suspicious.
They still have the old way of thinking. When a new person comes from outside, they want to see
if he's really here to dig up the land and steal the copper and gold, because those are the stories the
Congolese tell about foreigners.”
In light of this—that even in 2012, the Congolese were worried about being exploited, having
their land dug up or their forests cut down—I had no difficulty imagining the reception Sally must
have had, arriving in wartime Kinshasa on a shoestring budget and trying to advocate for a virtually
unknown species of great ape when most people were still concerned about the RCD rebels and
Rwandan military renewing its push west and taking the capital.
Eventually, though, Evelyn Samu relinquished her doubts, realizing that Sally was untiring and
clearly working for the sake of bonobos. But Evelyn's story wasn't unusual. The Mobutu years had
left the Congolese with an ingrained skepticism and the knowledge that anything was possible. If
their leader could build Versailles in the middle of the jungle, fly in flowers and shellfish daily on
Air France flights chartered for each particular item while the population starved, why wouldn't a
lone American woman who spoke Lingala have been trained by the CIA? Even Z had his doubts at
first, confessing that he also wondered if Sally was CIA. Still, he helped her, waiting for the mo-
ment when she might ask more of him, or question him on other issues.
Given the suspicion in the country and the degree to which the people had been exploited, only
Sally's decision to focus on building relationships allowed her to win their trust. The relationship
that she would cultivate with Mwanza would create support for BCI in the Congolese scientific
community. Even more important was the alliance she would establish with Albert, whom she first
met when Furuichi recommended him to help clear the landing strip in Djolu, a job that required
taking the necessary supplies in boats up the river.
