The African Dream

by Ernesto Che Guevara

  I described our experience in the Sierra Maestra, where we obtained roughly one soldier for every five recruits we trained, and only one good one for every five soldiers. I argued as forcefully as I could to the exasperated Freedom Fighters that most of the money invested in training would not be well spent and that a soldier, especially a revolutionary soldier, cannot be trained in an academy.5 Only in war does he become a soldier. He might receive a diploma from some college or other, but his real graduation—as is the case with any professional—takes place in the practice of his profession, in the way he reacts under enemy fire, to suffering, to defeat, to relentless pursuit, to adversity. You can never predict from what someone says, or from their previous history, how an individual will react when faced with the experience in fighting in a people’s war. I therefore suggested that training should take place not in our far-off Cuba but in the nearby Congo, where the struggle was not against some puppet like Tshombe but against US imperialism, which, in its neocolonial form, was threatening the newly acquired independence of almost every African people and helping to keep the colonies in subjection. I spoke to them of the fundamental importance which the struggle for the liberation of the Congo had in our eyes. A victory would be continental in its impact and consequences—and so would a defeat.

  The reaction was worse than cool. Although most refrained from any kind of comment, some asked to speak and violently rebuked me for what I had said. They argued that their respective peoples, who had been abused and degraded by imperialism, would protest if any casualties were suffered not as a result of oppression in their own land, but from a war to liberate another country. I tried to show them that we were not talking about a struggle within fixed borders, but of a war against the common oppressor, present as much in Mozambique as in Malawi, Rhodesia6 or South Africa, the Congo or Angola. No one saw it this way.

  The farewells were cool and polite, and we were left with the clear sense that Africa had a long way to go before it achieved real revolutionary maturity. But we had also had the pleasure of meeting people prepared to carry the struggle through to the end. From that moment, we set ourselves the task of selecting a group of black [Afro-] Cubans, volunteers of course, and sending them to reinforce the struggle in the Congo.

  1. Che carried out a tour of Africa that lasted three months after participating in the XIX General Assembly of the United Nations. On December 17, 1964, he set out on a trip that took him to eight African countries: Algeria, Mali, Congo (Brazzaville), Guinea, Ghana, Dahomey (today Benin), Tanzania and Egypt, in addition to a very brief visit to China. During his travels throughout the continent, Che met with the principal leaders of those countries, as well as with leaders of liberation movements in the region, to establish closer links with the Cuban revolution and offer them aid in their struggles. He met with Ahmed Ben Bella, Gamal Abdel Nasser, and Sékou Touré, the presidents of Algeria, the United Arab Republic (Egypt) and Guinea, respectively; he also met the Angolans Agostinho Neto and Lucio Lara of the People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA), Samora Michel and Marcelino Dos Santos from Mozambique and the Congolese leader Laurent Désiré Kabila, among others.

  His participation in the Second Economic Seminar of Afro-Asian Solidarity held in Algiers was of great importance. Cuba had been invited as an observer and sole representative from Latin America. In his speech Che analyzed that necessarily international dimension of the anti-imperialist struggle, concluding that proletarian internationalism “is not only a duty for the peoples struggling for a better future, it is also an inescapable necessity.” (See Che Guevara Reader, Ocean Press) In this confrontation with imperialism, Che argues it is necessary to forge an alliance between the two principal actors, the underdeveloped countries and the socialist countries, even when he admits that “these alliances cannot be made spontaneously, without discussions, without birth pangs, which sometimes can be painful.”

  On this road to international unity and solidarity, Che criticizes the socialist countries, saying that, as the vanguard, they had a moral duty to commit to genuine solidarity with the peoples initiating their liberation struggles, instead of establishing economic, commercial and political relations with them that were, in some ways, tacitly complicit in imperialist exploitation. For Che, the nature of the new relationship between the socialist countries and the Third World would be the result of the necessary change in consciousness that should reflect the new socialist society, leading to “a new fraternal attitude toward humanity, both at an individual level, within the societies where socialism is being built or has been built, and on a world scale, with regard to all peoples suffering from imperialist oppression.” Che returned to Cuba on March 14, 1965.

  2. Che uses this term in English.

  3. A reference to the Supreme Council of the Congolese Revolution.

  4. In Che’s analysis and denunciations of imperialist aggression against any attempt to achieve liberation by any people, anywhere in the world, he repeatedly referred to the Congo and its assassinated revolutionary leader, Patrice Lumumba, whom Che called a martyr of the world revolution. In Che’s eyes, the tragic events in the Congo were an example of the most brutal and extreme form of the penetration and development of neocolonialism, as well as telling proof of the barbarism and bestiality that imperialism is capable of in pursuing hegemonic control over peoples and their natural resources. In his speech to the XIX UN General Assembly, he denounced the role played by that international organization as an instrument used by imperialism to pursue its interests on the pretext of carrying out “humanitarian” missions.

  “How can we forget,” Che asked, “the machinations and maneuvers that followed the occupation of [the Congo] by UN troops, under whose auspices the assassins of this great African patriot acted with impunity?” He also pointed out the convergence between reactionary Congolese sectors and countries such as the United States, Great Britain and Belgium, concluding, “All free people of the world must be prepared to avenge the crime of the Congo.”

  5. Che’s concept of a revolutionary combatant is not limited to the military dimension, but rather views the combatant as a representative of the vanguard of a people on their way to liberation. In his book Guerrilla Warfare (Ocean Press) Che defines the revolutionary combatant, the guerrilla, as a “social reformer” who “launches himself against the conditions of the reigning institutions at a particular moment and dedicates himself with all the vigor that circumstances permit to breaking the mold of these institutions.” Che emphasizes the importance of ideological motivation and further argues the guerrilla movement can only survive with the support of the local population and, for that reason, the behavior of individual guerrillas must be strictly ethical at all times. In analyzing the Cuban experience in his essay “Socialism and Man in Cuba,” Che stressed the importance of example, noting, “in the attitude of our [Rebel Army] combatants could be glimpsed the man and woman of the future.”

  For further reading on Che Guevara’s views on revolutionary combatants, see: “What is a Guerrilla Fighter?” in the newspaper Revolución, February 19, 1959; “Morale and Discipline of Revolutionary Combatants,” Verde Olivo magazine, March 17, 1960; and “Guerrilla Warfare: A Method” in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press) as well as his book, Guerrilla Warfare (Ocean Press).

  6. Here “Rhodesia” is used in a geographic not political sense to refer to the area occupied by Zambia and Zimbabwe. In 1910, Northern Rhodesia (today Zambia) separated from Southern Rhodesia, which was called Rhodesia after 1964. In 1980, it became known as Zimbabwe, after independence following the Lancaster House (London) agreements of September and December of 1979.

  SECOND ACT

  The second act opens in the Congo and includes some incidents whose meaning, for the time being, still cannot be explained, such as my appointment at the head of the Cuban forces, even though I am white; the selection of the future combatants; the organization of my secret departure, the limited possibility for leave-taking, the explanatory le
tters, the whole series of secret maneuvers that it would be dangerous even today to put on paper, and which can anyway be clarified at a later date.1

  After the hectic round of bittersweet farewells, which in the best scenario was expected to be for a number of years, the last step was the clandestine journey itself, the details of which also cannot be revealed.

  I was leaving behind nearly 11 years of work alongside Fidel for the Cuban revolution, and a happy home, if that is the right word for the abode of a revolutionary dedicated to his task and a bunch of kids who scarcely knew how much I loved them. The cycle was beginning again.

  One fine day I turned up in Dar es-Salaam. No one recognized me, not even the ambassador—an old compañero [Pablo Rivalta] who had been with us in the invasion [of central Cuba during the revolutionary war in 1958] and was a captain in the Rebel Army—or was able to identify me.

  We installed ourselves on a small farm, rented as temporary accommodation as we waited for the group of 30 men who were to join us. At that point there were three of us: Commander Moja, an Afro-Cuban, who was the official head of our force; Mbili, a white compañero with great experience in these matters; and Tatu—myself, presented as a doctor—whose color was explained by the fact that I spoke French and had guerrilla experience. Our names meant: one, two, three, in that order. To save ourselves headaches, we decided to number ourselves by order of arrival, and to use the corresponding Swahili word as our name.

  I had not told any Congolese of my decision to fight in their country, and opted not to inform them of my presence for the time being. I didn’t mention it in my first conversation with Kabila because nothing had been decided; and once the plan was approved, it would have been dangerous for the plan to be known before I reached my destination as I had to travel through a lot of hostile countries. I therefore decided to present my arrival as a fait accompli and to proceed from there, according to how they reacted. I was not unaware that a negative response would put me in a difficult situation as I could no longer return [to Cuba], but I also calculated that it would be difficult for them to refuse me. I was blackmailing them with my physical presence.

  But an unexpected problem arose. Kabila was in Cairo with all the members of the revolutionary government, discussing aspects of combat unity and the new constitution of the revolutionary organization. His deputies, Massengo and Mitoudidi, were there with him. The only person left with authority was Tchamlesso, later to acquire the Cuban nickname “Tremendo Punto.” Tchamlesso accepted on his own responsibility the 30 instructors that we offered initially, but when we told him that we had some 130 men, all black [Afro-] Cubans, ready to begin the struggle, he took responsibility for accepting this also. This slightly changed the first part of our strategy because we had assumed we would be operating on the basis of 30 Cubans accepted as instructors.

  A delegate headed off for Cairo to tell Kabila and his compañeros that the Cubans had arrived (but not that I was there), while we waited for the arrival of the initial contingent.

  Our most urgent task was to find a fast boat with a good motor, so that we would be able to cross in relative safety the 70 kilometers that was the width of Lake Tanganyika at the crossing point. One of our good experts had arrived in advance to take charge of both buying the launches and exploring the way across the lake.

  After waiting several days in Dar es-Salaam—a wait which, though short, made me anxious because I wanted to get to the Congo as soon as possible—the first group of Cubans arrived on the night of April 20. Fourteen of us then set off, leaving behind four new arrivals for whom equipment had not yet been purchased. We were accompanied by two drivers, the Congolese representative (Tchamlesso), and a Tanzanian policeman to clear up any problems en route.

  Right from the start, we confronted a reality that would vex us throughout the struggle: the lack of organization. This greatly concerned me because our passage must have been detected by imperialism, which has power over all the airline companies and airports in the region, apart from the fact that the purchase of unusual quantities of backpacks, nylon sheeting, knives, blankets, etc. must have attracted attention in Dar es-Salaam.

  Not only was the Congolese organization bad; ours was too. We had not thoroughly prepared for the task of equipping a company, and had obtained only rifles and ammunition for the soldiers, all armed with Belgian FALs.

  Kabila had not arrived and announced he expected to remain in Cairo two more weeks, so that, as I had been unable to discuss my own involvement with him, I had to carry on incognito, not even announcing myself to the Tanzanian government in order to ask for its acquiescence. To be honest, these problems did not bother me particularly because I was eager to play a role in the Congo struggle and I feared that my offer might arouse an extremely sharp reaction and that the Congolese—or the friendly government itself—might ask me not to become involved in the conflict.

  On the evening of April 22 we reached Kigoma after an exhausting journey, only to find the launches were not ready and we had to wait another day to make the crossing. The regional commissioner, who received us and organized accommodation, wasted no time in telling me of the Congolese complaints. Unfortunately, all indications were that many of his judgments were correct: the commanders in the area, who had received our first exploratory delegation, were now in Kigoma; and we verified that they were granting passes for men to go there from the front. That little town was a sanctuary where the fortunate ones could go and live away from the hazards of the struggle. The nefarious influence of Kigoma—its brothels, alcohol and especially its secure refuge—would never be sufficiently understood by the revolutionary command.

  Finally, at dawn on April 24, we landed on Congolese soil and met a surprised group of well-armed infantry, who solemnly formed up into a little guard of honor. We were shown into a hut that had been specially vacated for us.

  Our original information, obtained (I have no idea how) by our inspection agents, had been that on the Congolese side there was a 10-mile-wide plain stretching inland to the mountains. In reality, however, the lake is a type of ravine and the mountains, both at Kigoma and on the other side, begin right at the water’s edge.2 At a place known as Kibamba, where the General Staff was located, a difficult climb began 10 paces or so from our point of disembarkation, all the more difficult for us given our lack of previous training.

  1. The process of selecting and training the Cuban combatants to participate in the guerrilla struggle in the Congo began toward the end of January of 1965, after Che passed on to the Cuban government the requests he had received from African liberation movements. Men were selected from units of Cuba’s Revolutionary Armed Forces (FAR). The volunteers selected for this internationalist mission had to be Afro-Cuban in order to facilitate their integration into the African liberation movements. Training took place in the months of February and March in various camps located in the mountains of Pinar del Río province and involved about 500 members of the Cuban military with various military ranks and levels of combat experience from which 113 were selected. Commander Victor Dreke was initially appointed to head the column, but toward the end of March he was informed of the decision to name Che Guevara as head of the mission.

  2. This refers to the Mitumba Mountains on the western (Congolese) shore of Lake Tanganyika.

  FIRST IMPRESSIONS

  On arrival, after a brief rest on the floor of the hut among backpacks and assorted junk, we began to become acquainted with Congolese reality. We immediately noticed a clear distinction: besides people with very little education (generally peasants), there were others better educated, a distinct style of dress and a better knowledge of French. The distance between the two groups could hardly have been greater.

  The first people I got to know were Emmanuel Kasabuvabu and Kiwe, who introduced themselves as officers on the General Staff, the former in charge of supplies and munitions, the latter, information. Both were loquacious and expressive young men and what they said, and what they held back, soo
n revealed the divisions inside the Congo. Later, “Tremendo Punto” invited me to a small meeting, which was not attended by those compañeros but by another group comprising the commander of the base and several brigade leaders. This included the head of the First Brigade, Colonel Bidalila,1 who commanded the Uvira front; the Second Brigade, under the command of Major-General Moulana, was represented by Lieutenant-Colonel Lambert; and Ngoja Andre, who was fighting in the Kabambare area, representing what seemed likely (from various remarks made) to become a future brigade. Agitated, “Tremendo Punto” proposed that Moja, the official head of our forces, should participate in all meetings and decisions of the General Staff, along with another Cuban chosen by Moja. I observed the others’ faces and noticed no approval of the suggestion; “Tremendo Punto” did not appear to be particularly popular among the leaders.

  The reason for the hostility among the groups was that, one way or another, some men did spend a certain amount of time at the front, whereas others merely traveled back and forth between the Congo base and Kigoma, always to go get something that was not to hand. The case of “Tremendo Punto” was more serious in the combatants’ eyes because, being the representative in Dar es-Salaam, he only occasionally came to the Congo.

  We chatted on in a friendly manner without mentioning the proposal, and I discovered a number of things that I had not known before. Lieutenant-Colonel Lambert explained with a friendly, cheerful spirit that airplanes had no importance for them because they had dawa, a medicine that makes a person invulnerable to bullets.2