Dr Congo Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

DR. Congo
I saw the villa Joseph Kabila bought in Algarve it is to be a bolt hole
when he has to flee Congo, he has blood on his hands perhaps not
enough for Hague to bother about, like so many African presidents,
he has robbed his country to destitution.
Perhaps this echoing country, with forests is too big to be governed
especially since no money is spent on new roads; Kinshasa its capital is
run mostly by mixed races, not even they can keep order and people
throw all their rubbish in the street.
Joseph Kabila, Joseph`s father, tried ordered a thousand wheelbarrows
gave a job to ditto street cleaners who sold their wheelbarrows and
consequently lost their jobs. But these setbacks are not the problem
Congo is too rich in minerals, oil and timber and the big international
businesses have descended upon the land corrupting all in its wake like
a locust plague they have failed to get rid of and they have no interest
in making Congo a nation which, it will be when it is a more modern.
I looked inside the villa it had cavernous rooms gold and glitter quite
fitting for someone who doesn't know the value of anything but gems
and never mind the culture