Latest / The History of Belgium: A Small Country with a Giant Colonial Legacy — Fexingo History / The 1927 Tshisenge Affair: Land Dispossession in the Kasai
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about rubber, about mining, about forced labour in the Congo. But there's another thread that runs through all of it — land. Who owns it, who gets to use it, and what happens when a colonial power decides it belongs to them. Luna: And I'm guessing that's not a simple story. Lucas: It's anything but. In 1927, a conflict over land in the Kasai region boiled over into what's become known as the Tshisenge Affair. Named after a Luba chief, Tshisenge wa Mulumba, who refused to accept that his people's ancestral lands had been declared 'vacant' by the colonial administration. Luna: Vacant? How could land that people were living on be vacant? Lucas: That's exactly the question. Under Belgian colonial law, any land that wasn't under permanent cultivation or occupied by a recognized village could be classified as 'terres vacantes' — vacant lands — and then granted to European companies, missions, or settlers. But the Luba in the Kasai had a system of shifting agriculture and seasonal movement. They cleared fields, left them fallow, and returned years later. The administration didn't recognize that as ownership. Luna: So the colonial state basically redefined what property meant to take it away. Lucas: Exactly. And in the Kasai, the pressure was intense. The Société des Chemins de Fer du Congo, the railway company, wanted land for its expansion. Catholic missions wanted to establish plantations. And the administration saw land grants as a way to generate revenue without spending from Brussels. Tshisenge's territory, near the town of Luluabourg — today's Kananga — was particularly fertile. Lucas: Now, Tshisenge wasn't just any chief. He was a respected Luba leader, well-versed in customary law, and he understood that the colonial legal system might be used against him. So he fought back, not with weapons, but with petitions, letters, and eventually a court case. Luna: He took the colonial administration to court? Lucas: He did. In 1927, Tshisenge filed a complaint with the colonial tribunal in Léopoldville. He argued that his people had occupied and used those lands for generations — fallow periods were part of the cycle, not abandonment. He brought witnesses, village elders, and even some sympathetic European missionaries to testify. The case became a cause célèbre among the évolués, the educated Congolese elite, who saw it as a test of whether the colonial legal system would respect any African rights. Luna: What happened in court? Lucas: The tribunal initially found in Tshisenge's favour. They recognized that the land wasn't truly vacant and ordered the administration to halt the grants. But — and this is the crucial part — the colonial governor, Maurice Lippens, overruled the decision. He argued that recognizing customary land rights on such a broad scale would set a dangerous precedent and undermine the entire colonial land policy. Lucas: So the affair became a political one. The governor's intervention was seen as a direct attack on the independence of the colonial judiciary. And for the Luba, it was a betrayal — they had played by the coloniser's rules, and still lost. Luna: Did Tshisenge face any retribution? Lucas: He did. After the ruling was overturned, the administration used the Force Publique to enforce the land seizures. Tshisenge was arrested, briefly detained, and then placed under surveillance. He was forbidden from travelling outside his chiefdom, effectively neutralized as a political voice. The chicotte — that horrible whip made of hippo hide — was used on some of his followers who resisted the evictions. Luna: The same chicotte we've talked about in rubber and mining contexts. It's everywhere. Lucas: It was the instrument of colonial discipline, period. And in this case, it was used not for labour quotas but for land — which for the Luba was even more fundamental. Land was not just an economic resource; it held ancestral graves, spiritual significance, and the basis of clan identity. Lucas: The Tshisenge Affair had lasting consequences. It galvanized Luba ethnic consciousness. People who might have identified primarily with their village or clan now began to see themselves as Luba in opposition to the Belgian state. It also created a template for later land conflicts — the same legal arguments would resurface in the 1950s as independence approached. Luna: And after independence? Lucas: The land question remained unresolved. The new Congolese government inherited the colonial land registry, which meant that many of the same 'vacant lands' grants continued to be recognized. It's one of the reasons why land disputes have been so persistent in the Kasai region, even into the 21st century. Luna: It's striking how one chief's legal battle echoes all the way to today. Lucas: You know, it's funny — in researching this episode, I kept thinking about how much of what we cover on this show is about people trying to hold onto something in the face of overwhelming power. And that's part of why we do what we do. If you've been stepping into history with us episode by episode, and you find value in these deep dives, listener support is what keeps this ad-free and independent. You can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Luna: Yeah, it's a small gesture that makes a big difference for a small show like ours. Lucas: So back to Tshisenge — one of the most interesting footnotes is that his case was cited decades later by Congolese lawyers arguing for land reform. The legal principle he raised — that customary occupation should be recognized as ownership — never fully won in court, but it didn't die either. Luna: So his defeat in the 1920s planted a seed for future arguments. Lucas: Exactly. And that's the thing about colonial resistance — it's rarely a single victory or loss. It's a long conversation across generations, and Tshisenge made sure his people's voice was part of it.