About your situation:
I have just read your letter to Bracero [Osmany Cienfuegos] and have spoken extensively with the Doctor [Aleida March, Che’s wife].
In the days when an act of aggression seemed imminent here, I suggested to several compañeros the idea of asking you to return, an idea that turned out to be on everyone’s mind. El Gallego [Manuel Piñeiro2] was given the job of sounding you out. From the letter to Bracero I see that you were thinking exactly the same thing. But right now we can no longer make plans based on that supposition because, as I explained, our impression now is that for the time being nothing is going to happen.
It seems to me, however, that given the delicate and worrying situation in which you find yourself there, that you should consider the usefulness of jumping back here.
I am well aware that you are especially reluctant to consider any option that involves a return to Cuba for the moment, unless it is in the quite exceptional circumstances mentioned above. But analyzed in a sober and objective way, this actually hinders your objectives; worse, it puts them at risk. I find it very hard to accept the idea that this is right, or even that it can be justified from a revolutionary point of view. Your time at the so-called halfway point increases the risks; it makes extraordinarily more difficult the practical tasks that need to be carried out; and far from accelerating the plans, it delays their fulfillment; moreover, it subjects you to a period of unnecessarily anxious, uncertain and impatient waiting.
What is the reason for all this? There can be no question of principle, honor or revolutionary morality involved here that would prevent you from making effective and thorough use of facilities that you can certainly depend on to achieve your goal. No fraud, no deception, no tricking of the people of Cuba or the world is involved in making use of the objective advantages of being able to enter and leave here, to plan and coordinate, to select and train cadres, and to do everything from here that you can achieve only with great difficulty from where you are or somewhere similar. Neither today nor tomorrow, nor at any time in the future, could anyone consider it wrong—nor should you in all conscience. What would really be a grave, unforgivable error is to do things badly when they could be done well; to have a failure when all the possibilities are there for success.
I am not insinuating, not in the least, that you abandon or postpone your plans, nor I am letting myself be carried away by pessimistic considerations due to the difficulties that have arisen. On the contrary, the difficulties can be overcome, and more than ever we can count on having the experience, the conviction and the means to carry out those plans successfully. That is why I think we should make the best and most rational use of the knowledge, the resources and the facilities that we have at our disposal. Since first hatching your now old idea of further action in another setting, have you ever really had enough time to devote yourself entirely to this matter, to conceiving, organizing and executing your plans to the greatest possible extent? […]
It is a huge advantage for you to be able to use what we have here, to have access to houses, isolated farms, mountains, cays and everything essential to organize and personally lead the project, devoting 100 percent of your time to this and drawing on the help of as many others as necessary, with only a very small number of people knowing your whereabouts. You know perfectly well that you can count on these facilities, that there is not the slightest possibility that you will encounter problems or interference for reasons of state or politics. The most difficult thing of all—the official disassociation—has already been done, not without paying a price in the form of slander, intrigues, etc. Is it right that we should not extract the maximum benefit from it? Has any revolutionary ever had such ideal conditions to fulfill their mission, and at a time when that mission acquires great importance for humanity, when the most crucial and decisive struggle for the victory of the peoples is breaking out? […]
Why not do things well if we have every chance to do so? Why don’t we take the minimum time necessary, even while working at the greatest speed? Didn’t Marx, Engels, Lenin, Bolívar and Martí have to wait, sometimes for decades?
Moreover in those times, there were no airplanes or radios or other things that today shrink distances and increase the yield of each hour of a human being’s life. We ourselves had to invest 18 months in Mexico before returning here to Cuba. I am not proposing that you wait decades or even years but only a few months, because I believe that in a matter of months, by working in the way I suggest, you can get underway in conditions incomparably more favorable than those we are trying to achieve at present.
I know you will be 38 on the 14th [of June 1966]. Or maybe you think that a man starts to age from that point.
I hope that these lines will not annoy or upset you. I know that if you analyze what I say seriously, your characteristic honesty will lead you to accept that I am right. But even if you come to a completely different decision, I won’t feel disappointed. I write to you with deep affection and the greatest and most sincere admiration for your brilliant and noble intelligence, your irreproachable conduct and your unyielding character of a whole-hearted revolutionary. And the fact that you might see things differently won’t change these feelings one iota nor affect our collaboration in any way.
That same year Che returned to Cuba.3
On the first anniversary of the victory of the Congolese revolution, I took part in the celebrations and had a chance to talk to some of the compañeros who had fought alongside Che. I also took the opportunity to discuss with them the publication of this book as I was concerned about what they might think of it. Che’s diary is highly critical and quite blunt in the hope that an analysis of the errors made in the Congo would ensure that they were not made again. He makes specific mention of several leaders, including Laurent Kabila, who later became a key leader of that country.4
I was told that Che Guevara is remembered with respect and affection. Most of the Congolese leaders were young at the time but they recalled Che’s simplicity, his modesty and the respect he showed them by placing himself under their command. For this reason, they are aware that his advice has always been useful in the great task of unifying their country and ensuring that for the first time in many years the Congolese people benefit from their country’s wealth.
So in conclusion, we can say that human beings don’t die when their life and example serve as a guide to many others, and those others succeed in continuing that work.
Aleida Guevara March
1. Aleida Guevara March is one of Che Guevara’s daughters. She is a pediatrician and has participated in various Cuban internationalist missions in Africa and Central America.
2. Manuel Piñeiro Losada (Barbarroja or “Red Beard”) after the victory of the revolution held various posts in the Ministry of the Interior, from head of the National Intelligence Directorate to first vice-minister. He was also head of the Americas Department of the Central Committee from 1975 to 1992.
3. Che returned to Cuba in 1966 and immediately began preparations for the guerrilla mission to Bolivia. He left Cuba for Bolivia in November of that year.
4. Laurent Kabila was president of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (1997-2001) after overthrowing the dictatorship of Mobuto Sese Seko. He was succeeded by his son Joseph when he was assassinated in 2001.
For Bahasa and his fallen compañeros, in search of the meaning of their sacrifice.
PREFACE: AN INITIAL WARNING
This is the story of a failure. It descends into anecdotal detail, as one would expect in an account of episodes of a war, but this is modified by observations and a critical spirit as I believe that, were this account to have some merit, it would be to allow certain experiences to be drawn out that might be useful to other revolutionary movements. Victory is a great source of positive experiences, but so is defeat, especially in light of the extraordinary circumstances that surrounded these events: the protagonists and source of information were foreigners who went to risk their lives in an u
nknown land, where people spoke a different language, and where they were bound only by ties of proletarian internationalism, thereby initiating a new feature in modern wars of liberation.
At the end of the narrative there is an epilogue that poses some questions about the struggle in Africa and, more generally, the national liberation struggle against the neocolonial type of imperialism, the most terrible form in which imperialism presents itself, given the disguises and subtleties that accompany it, and the long experience that the powers that practice it have had in that form of exploitation.
These notes will be published long after they were dictated, and it may be that the author will no longer be able to take responsibility for what is said here. Time will have smoothed many rough edges and, should the publication of these notes be considered to have some importance, the editors may make any corrections they deem necessary (with appropriate footnotes) to clarify events or opinions in light of the time that will have passed.
More accurately, this is the story of a decomposition. When we arrived on Congolese soil, the revolution had stalled; later, events took place that would mean its definitive retrogression, at least at that time and in that immense field of struggle that is the Congo. The aspect that interests us here is not the story of the decomposition of the Congolese revolution. Its causes and key features were too deep for me to have been able to capture them all from my particular vantage point; rather, it is the process of the collapse of our own fighting morale. The experience we initiated should not be ignored and the inauguration of the International Proletarian Army must not be allowed to die at the first failure. It is essential to analyze in depth the problems that arise and find a solution. A good instructor on the battlefield does more for the revolution than the teacher of considerable numbers of raw recruits in peacetime, but the characteristics of this instructor, the catalyst in the training of future revolutionary technical cadres, should be studied carefully.
The idea that guided us was to ensure that men experienced in Cuba’s liberation struggle and the subsequent battles against reaction fought alongside men without experience. We aimed to bring about what we called the “Cubanization” of the Congolese. We will see, however, that the effect was the exact opposite, in that eventually there was a “Congolization” of the Cubans. “Congolization” refers to habits and attitudes toward the revolution that were typical of the Congolese soldiers at that time. This does not reflect a derogatory opinion of the Congolese people, but it does reflect such a view of the soldiers of those days. We will try to explain why those combatants displayed such negative traits in the course of this narrative.
As a general norm, one that I have always followed, nothing but the truth will be told in these pages, or at least in my interpretation of the events, although it may be challenged by other subjective evaluations or corrections, should any errors have crept into my account.
At some points, where it would be indiscreet or inadvisable to tell the truth, some specific references been omitted because there are certain things the enemy should not know. Moreover, what we consider here are issues that may assist friends in the reorganization of the struggle in the Congo (or in the launching of the struggle elsewhere in Africa or other continents that face similar challenges). Among the matters that have been omitted are the ways and means by which we reached Tanzania, our springboard into the setting of this story.1
The names of the Congolese mentioned here are their real ones, but nearly all combatants of the Cuban contingent are referred to by the Swahili names we gave them on their arrival in the Congo. The real names of the compañeros who participated will be included in an appendix, should the editors decide that this would be useful.
Lastly, it is necessary to emphasize that we have highlighted various cases of weakness on the part of individuals or groups, as well as the general demoralization that eventually overcame us, in strict adherence to the truth, recognizing the importance these incidents may have for future liberation movements. But this in no way detracts from the heroic character of the effort. The heroic character of this participation flows from the general position of our government and the Cuban people. Our country, the sole socialist bastion on the doorstep of Yankee imperialism, sends its soldiers to fight and die in a foreign land, on a distant continent, and publicly assumes full responsibility for its actions. In this challenge, in this clear position on the great modern-day issue of waging a relentless struggle against Yankee imperialism, lies the heroic significance of our participation in the struggle of the Congo.
It is there we see the readiness of a people and its leadership not only to defend themselves but to attack, because when it comes to Yankee imperialism, it is not enough to be resolute in defense. It has to be attacked in its bases of support in the colonies and neocolonies that are the foundation of its system of world domination.2
1. Che left Cuba for the Congo on April 1, 1965, after a process of disguising himself in order to assume the identity of Ramón Benítez. He was accompanied by José María Martínez Tamayo and Víctor Dreke. The night before they left, Fidel visited them to say good-bye. They traveled from Cuba to Prague and Cairo and arrived in Tanzania April 5-6. Other members of the column left Cuba in the following weeks, in groups of three or six, and took various different routes, arriving in Tanzania after Che, Martínez Tamayo and Dreke.
2. It is from this perspective that Che analyzes imperialist domination as a world system—how it functions to protect its interests, guarantee exploitation and challenge any attempt at resistance or liberation as well as its various forms of colonialism and neocolonialism. Che’s actions were completely consistent with his ideas. He practiced internationalism in an attempt to coordinate and unify the anti-imperialist struggle.
FIRST ACT
In this kind of story, it is difficult to establish the first act. For the sake of narrative, I will begin with a trip I made to Africa that gave me the chance to rub shoulders with many leaders of the various liberation movements.1 Particularly instructive was my visit to Dar es-Salaam, where a considerable number of Freedom Fighters2 had taken up residence. Most of them lived comfortably in hotels and had made a career out of their situation, sometimes lucrative and almost always congenial. This was the setting for a series of interviews in which they generally asked for military training in Cuba and financial assistance. It was the leitmotif of nearly all of them.
I also met the Congolese combatants. From our first meeting with them, we could clearly see the extraordinary number of diverse tendencies and opinions that gave a distinct character to this group of revolutionary leaders. I made contact with Kabila and his General Staff, and he made an excellent impression on me. He said he had come from the interior of the country, but apparently he had only come from Kigoma, a small Tanzanian town on Lake Tanganyika and one of the main settings of this story. It was the point of departure for the Congo and a comfortable place for revolutionaries to take refuge when they had their fill of the hazardous life in the mountains across the water.
Kabila’s presentation was clear, detailed and resolute; he allowed his opposition to Gbenyé and Kanza to show, as well as how much he disagreed with Soumialot. He argued there could be no talk of a Congolese government because Mulele, the initiator of the struggle, had not been consulted, and so the president could only claim the title of head of the government of northeastern Congo. This also meant that Kabila’s own zone in the southeast, which he led as vice-chairman of the party,3 lay outside Gbenyé’s sphere of influence.
Kabila realized perfectly well that the main enemy was US imperialism, and he declared his readiness to carry the fight against it through to the end. As I said, his statements and his confidence made a very good impression on me.
On another day, we spoke with Soumialot. He is a different kind of man, much less politically mature and much older. He lacked the basic instinct to keep quiet or to speak very little, using vague phrases, so that he seemed to express great subtlety of thought but, howeve
r much he tried, he was unable to give the impression of a real popular leader. He explained what he has since made public: his involvement as defense minister in the Gbenyé government, how Gbenyé’s action took them by surprise, etc. He also clearly stated his opposition to Gbenyé and, above all, Kanza. I did not personally meet these last two, except for a quick handshake with Kanza when we happened to meet at an airport.
We talked at length with Kabila about what our government considered a strategic mistake on the part of some African friends: namely, that in the face of open aggression by the imperialist powers, they promoted the slogan: “The Congo problem is an African problem,” and acted accordingly. Our view was that the Congo problem was a worldwide problem, and Kabila agreed.4 On behalf of our government, I offered him some 30 instructors and whatever weapons we might have, and he was happy to accept these. He recommended that both should be delivered urgently, as did Soumialot in another conversation—the latter saying it would be a good idea if the instructors were black [ie, Afro-Cuban].
I decided to hear what the other Freedom Fighters had to say by having a friendly chat with them in separate meetings. But due to a mistake by embassy staff, there was a “tumultuous” meeting attended by 50 or more people, representing movements from 10 or more countries, each divided into two or more tendencies. I gave them a rousing speech and considered the requests nearly all of them made for financial assistance and training of personnel. I explained the cost of training someone in Cuba, the investment of money and time required, and the uncertainty that it would produce combatants who would be useful for the movement.
The African Dream Page 2
