(2 of 4)
These days he avoids trips to the capital or other major cities, although the Gbadolite village airstrip can accommodate the supersonic Concorde that Mobutu charters from Air France as well as a number of Boeing jets in the presidential fleet. Exquisite flower gardens and vast plantations of pineapple imbue Gbadolite with an air of bucolic tranquillity. But it is a Potemkin village: most of the electricity is switched off when the dictator and his circle are absent, leaving thousands of townspeople to fend for themselves in the tropical darkness.
His hold on power is based on his brutality, his control of key military units and broadcast media, and his elite security forces. But there is also a personal element: his knack for co-opting former enemies is little short of amazing. Nguza Karl-i-Bond, who published an account of brutal tortures inflicted on him by Mobutu's minions, later proceeded to serve him twice as Prime Minister. As Mobutu shifts appointees in and out of office, sometimes on a monthly basis, erstwhile opponents have shown a willingness to return to his orbit, occasionally banking tidy sums in the process.
Equally noteworthy has been Mobutu's quest for sexual favors among the wives of political associates. "The President enjoys an almost feudal droit du seigneur," explains a former Cabinet minister. "He uses sex as a tool to dominate the men around him. You get money or a Mercedes-Benz, and he takes your wife and you work for him." Says a former longtime resident of Gbadolite: "The complaints of those he has cuckolded only add to his mystique as a virile and powerful ruler."
Outside Gbadolite, Mobutu's hold on power is more tenuous. More than a thousand miles away in the teeming slums and decaying center of Kinshasa, Zaire's capital, hundreds of people have died in the past month in clashes with Mobutu's Israeli-trained security forces. Looting by unpaid military units has ravaged the city, obliging Belgium and France to send troops to rescue most of their remaining nationals. Both countries, joined by the U.S., have demanded that Mobutu proceed immediately with a transition to democracy that he initiated in 1990 and has since halted.
Until recently, Mobutu was considered a close strategic ally and personal friend by President George Bush. This week, however, the Clinton Administration may announce tough economic and diplomatic sanctions targeted personally at the Zairian leader. "I am the latest victim of the cold war, no longer needed by the U.S.," the dictator says bitterly. "The lesson is that my support for American policy counts for nothing."
An unarmed opposition is precariously united behind Prime Minister Etienne Tshisekedi, a human-rights activist and a bitter personal enemy of the President's. Last week each accused the other of treason as Mobutu tried to dismiss Tshisekedi, who adamantly refuses to step down. "The killings in recent weeks have only made Mobutu stronger," cautions a senior Western diplomat, who notes that the dictator's demise has often been forecast before. "He clearly calculates that the physical elimination of a few of his enemies will have a deterrent effect on the rest of the population."