Living in Burundi under Evariste Ndayishimiye’s uniquely brutal dictatorship should come with a survivor medal. The country resembles a sadistic funfair, where Burundians are tortured for the regime’s amusement. Words quickly run dry trying to describe the unbelievable realities that unfold in broad daylight.
Take, for example, the world’s poorest country, which is now enduring its most severe fuel shortage ever. The situation has become so dire that a centralized rationing system is being run through an Android app and an X account, formerly Twitter. How? The regime posts which petrol stations will receive 5,000 liters of fuel, while the app limits users to quotas of just 20 or 30 liters. In other words, you had better be among the first 162 cars; otherwise, good luck finding smuggled, diluted fuel on the black market. Never mind that the regime might go days or weeks without posting, and when they do, it is often for only 20 or 30 stations. Maybe fewer. Who cares?
As of now, the last official post for Bujumbura dates back to July 3rd. Since then, city dwellers have been left in total despair, hopelessly refreshing SOPEBU’s Twitter feed. But instead of explanations or a fuel list, local authorities issued summons via WhatsApp groups, ordering everyone to assemble along the airport road leading to the Presidential palace on Sunday morning for Angeline Ndayishimiye, Burundi’s First Lady.
Fuelless and desperate, city dwellers were forced to attend the triumphant welcome back event or face dire consequences. Angeline Ndayishimiye, the Marie Antoinette of Burundi, demanded clapping crowds of fans from the airport to her palace, all dressed in her private foundation’s uniform. What Angeline wants, Angeline gets. So, with a convoy of 100 fuel guzzling SUVs, she staged her triumphant procession through a fuel starved nation.
She even flaunted her new car, a GLS 600 Maybach, likely bought with proceeds from her husband’s soldier for hire scheme. President Ndayishimiye rents out Burundian soldiers to Félix Tshisekedi, while using the same troops to loot natural resources in Congo. Fallen soldiers are secretly buried at night, typically on Fridays, so that nothing overshadows Angeline’s display of wealth.
It gets worse. When a whole market caught fire last week, firetrucks had no fuel to respond. The official response to the bereaved? “You should get insurance,” declared the President of Parliament, publicly.
“It must have been easier under colonial rule. Soon, even slavery will feel like luxury,” cried a mother whose soldier son lies unburied, forced to dance for Angeline Ndayishimiye’s return. She must wait until next Friday for the funeral, and will certainly have to buy fuel on the black market. She danced to keep her job, despite being three months behind on salary.
Yes, living in Burundi is a test. A harrowing, unrelenting test.
ellenkampire