In the midst of other research, I came across this account of an asylum seeker who was ultimately denied his request in 2007. It is obvious that the judges have never been to Congo. While there is no way of knowing whether the case merits the decision, it is possible the appellant could be telling the truth. Or perhaps better put, the reasons offered for dismissal do not necessarily support accusations that the appellant is lying.
The judges claim that too many of the details don't add up, the events are unbelievable, too vague at times, or too many inconsistencies at other times and...all too often, simply mysterious. Sounds very Congo. Very in keeping with the way life works here- messy, incomprehensible, illogical, at odds with other accounts, and always full of conflicting perspectives. Yes, that is a description of daily life here.
The story is that the appellant was a member of UDPS, who eventually led a sub-cell of the party, and participated in a march during which he was arrested. Hie was incarcerated, moved several times, did not know where he was being held, yet finally managed to escape. The details of the escape were especially troubling for the judges. It seems the man was randomly put in charge of other prisoners, and, at one point, inexplicably sent outside to purchase soft drinks. During the purchase, he came into contact with someone who had been sent to help him escape. He was put into a car and accompanied out of the country, first to Brazzaville, then Benin, Cote d'Ivoire, Tunisia, and finally England, where he was making his asylum appeal.
The decision outlines all of the inconsistencies and small details that the judges held issue with. I say again, it is clear they have never been to Congo. The first sign of something amiss in Congo would be a story that is neat and clean and makes perfect sense. Nothing in Congo follows the logic of the world outside. There are several reasons for this, but one simple contributing factor is that people don't often ask questions. They don't often seek clarification. People themselves are content to follow where the road takes them. Mbisi alandaka kaka bisika mayi ezo tshola. Fish always follow where the water runs. Fish don't stop to question why the water is running that way, or who decided the water should flow through here, exactly. No, fish can't even see the river banks and cannot tell what is coming up ahead. But they are content to swim along with others, and where they are not content, sometimes they are more simply pulled by a current they cannot resist. Can fish swim backwards?
Even when asked, questions cannot always be answered. While there might have been a time when I, too, would consider it highly implausible that a prisoner would be sent outside to buy drinks, I now understand that something like this could easily happen. Perhaps the guard was implicit in the escape plan (money can be a powerful persuader, and it likely wouldn't take much.) Perhaps the guard was feeling lazy or just wanted to exercise his power by ordering someone else to do something mundane. It seems more plausible that he was part of the plan. It is probably too much to think the man at the drink stand was coincidentally there. Certainly he'd been prepared with a car and driver and a time to appear. Certainly a guard had been instructed to feel rather thirsty at a particular time of day. Or maybe just to get the man outside, however he could, and that is the creative idea he developed.
As far as escape plans go, it seems to make perfect (Congo) sense that one wouldn't offer their name or too much explanation about who they represent, where the destination would be or why any of it was happening. The less said the better. Going along with a stranger is surely a non-decision when considering the alternative is to return to prison. If, while buying a drink outside prison walls, a stranger comes up and says get in the car, the soon-to-be ex-prisoner can only imagine that person was sent by God. Of course, he would follow. And if God's messenger refused to introduce himself or offer details of the why and how, the soon-to-be ex-prisoner could only accept the silence and continue to be thankful for his chance at freedom.
He is not thinking about the need to document the reality of his situation. He is not remembering which day it is or which hour. He is palm sweating, breathing hard, calming heart, keeping eyes wide while trying to not look, hoping this is not a dream. Moving forward. Following the water as far as it goes and hoping there is not a net in front of him.
Research and interviews with people who have spent time in Congolese prisons all support many of the details of the experience. Not enough food, unsanitary conditions, constant movement between holding places. Beatings, torture. It's really hard to determine if the appellant is describing things as they are rumored to be or as he lived them. It all sounds completely plausible to me. Right down to the idea that he can't remember if he spent one day or a week in Benin. Knowing Congo, knowing the way things happen in the cloak of night, where days blend into another, where you are shuffled along without clear knowledge of intention or direction but simply instructed to do and so follow, yes all of these things seem completely plausible. That is the grand problem here. The lack of logic, consistency, and reason leads too often to situations that seem incredible. But that doesn't mean at all that they aren't true.
The judges want formal membership cards (the appellant did leave the prison and the country directly. Was he supposed to stop home and grab all of his papers and cards and belongings?) They want letters that show position and rank, dates of entry and promotion without really recognizing that meeting minutes and lists of presence are not habitual protocol. It seems very much as though the decision takes all of the cultural considerations out of the equation. I am sure it is hard to determine truth from a part of the world where multiple truths exist with such frequency.
Last night I happened to read a Twitter thread about a bank robbery. One of the guards was said to have made off with slightly more than a million dollars. Immediately the commentators have suspicions. How can a guard know the code and obtain the key to the vault. Surely he was helped by someone higher up. Or maybe he was paid to take the official blame for this while the real thieves make off with the rest of their cash. Or he was just set up completely and hasn't gotten any money, just the blame. Consensus on the thread is that the guard played a minimal role and those to blame hold positions in the higher echelons of the institution. They also recognize that the monthly salary of the guard, who is supposed to keep millions of dollars secure, should probably be reconsidered. Someone making 400$ a month in charge of millions will always feel tempted, they say, though no one offers an ideal amount that would somehow make the millions less appealing. Is there ever an ideal amount that, once reached, satiates the desire for more?
I noticed that the story was immediately pulled apart and analyzed with a cultural bent- people understood motivations, circuits of information, possibilities for corruption and collusion- all of the kinds of things missing from the English judges consideration. They understood impossibilities and hierarchies of action. Meanwhile, over in England, the judges were looking at photos and analyzing random object placement. In one photo, a chair is empty. In the second photo, there is an item on the seat. What does that mean, exactly? A shirt that appears white despite beatings and bleedings? Is that evidence? Somehow, it seems less plausible that a group of men would get together and stage a photo than the possibility that in the minutes between photos, an item may have been placed on a chair. Or that a shirt might not show the effects of being hit. I really wonder how clear the photos are and what is apparent and what must be construed. 2005- the date of events- is not that long ago, and yet it was an era before deep social media, before everyone seemed to have a camera in their pocket. What is the quality of the image and what does it really show?
I would be much more suspicious of a story that includes places, names, dates and hours. I would be much more suspicious of membership cards, letters, and photographs with all the right people and props in all the right places. And it seems likely, to me anyway, that if someone were going to lie about their experience, they would make sure to have all of those details. They would prepare a list of days and minutes, making sure to rehearse the sequence of events. If someone were making up a story, they might add some drama- an escape through a door left partially open by a guard bribed with cash or promises of grandeur. It seems to me a made up story would have full characters, a car chase, a plot. Something more than silence. Confusion. The appellant makes a statement about his bloody nose...which he saw "mixed with my tears." It is a big statement, an admission of crying. In all of my interviews, the participants talk about beatings and torture. They talk about hardship. No one talks about tears. Or crying. Or giving up hope. And the appellant is not really talking about that either. He is talking about having a bloody nose, which does not mean gushing. A bloody nose can be a quiet, subtle affair, especially when watered down with tears.
There is really no way to know if the story is true. In the end, it remains just a story. A story that has been offered sincerely, or embellished, or made up entirely. Although, I suspect, nothing is ever entirely false, just as nothing is ever entirely true. There are only bits and pieces of reality and dreams and skewed perceptions; there are only misunderstandings, miscommunication and outright denial mixed in with sensual information, a network itself susceptible to misinterpretation, highly impressionable by environmental factors. Memories can be funny things. A little bit of what we thought would happen, what we wanted to happen, what really happened, and what would have been better if it had happened instead.
Whatever happened, I sympathize greatly with the appellant, who is told outright that his story is a lie. It simply didn't happen. How to digest the fact of someone denying your reality, your existence, your story? We are only the sum of our stories, and if these are rejected, what are we left with? Who are we left to be?
