I wrote this piece in December 2020 prompted by what had been going on during the past few
weeks in America. I submitted it to the Foreign Service Journal. It was finally published in the June 2022 edition as a Reflections piece.
Election Saga,
Bangui
Election day in the Central African Republic in 1993 was busy. I sent all embassy personnel hither and yon as election observers. I too made the rounds of voting precincts in Bangui.
Voters lined up and waited patiently for
their turn. They then marked their ballot and stuffed into the box, always
accompanied by a resounding “a voté” - by a nearby poll watcher. Everything went
smoothly.
After
closing the precinct officials and party poll watchers hovered around the
counting table to ensure that ballots were correctly tabulated. Then the box
was sealed and transported to the Supreme Court for the final official tally.
Nonetheless, it quickly became apparent that incumbent President Andre Kolingba
was destined to lose.
Two days later, at mid-morning, I got a
phone call at the office from Chief Justice Edouard Frank. “Ambassador,” he
said, “They are going to kill me, if I start the count.”
Whoa!
I thought. “Sit tight, I’ll be right over,” I replied.
There was too much at stake for the nation
and for the process to let it collapse at the end. I told my driver Robert to put on all the
flags, and we drove to the Supreme Court. I found Justice Frank in his office.
He was clearly shaken by the threat, emanating, he avowed from the presidency; but
after calming down he realized his duty.
With my support he agreed to go forward. So
he and I, followed by the other justices, all in their judicial robes, walked
across the courtyard to the court chamber. I took a front row seat, and the
process of counting began. It proceeded without interference.
Meanwhile I contacted my German and French
colleagues. At least one of us was present for the entire count. Kolingba came in fourth. (I was later told by
a contact in the presidency that our presence in the court room had, indeed,
caused a plan to disrupt the proceedings to abort.)
However, President Kolingba, who had
obviously been misled by his entourage as to his popularity, was not yet
done. That afternoon he emptied the
prisons, apparently in hope to cause civil unrest so that he could declare
martial law and nullify the election.
A key part of this plan was to release
former President Jean Bedel Bokassa who was president from 1966 to 1976,
declared himself Emperor Bokassa I and ruled as such until 1979. Kolingba
thought that the people might either rise up to support the aging mentally
diminished monarch or revolt against him.
Either way, it could result in martial law.
There were no uprisings, however. The city
remained tranquil while thousands of prisoners in their prison-pink shorts
headed home. Bokassa’s family moved him quickly into a protected residence,
where he rusticated and eventually died.
To his credit, Kolingba finally conceded.
He acknowledged the validity of the results and the election of Ange Patassé as president. One of his final acts was
to bestow the Order of Merit of the Central African Republic upon me, my
French, German and European Union colleagues.
Ironically, one of the first acts of President
Patassé the next week was
to award the four of us the same medal as a token of appreciation for our role
in mandating the election. So, we each have two.
