Latest / The History of Belgium: A Small Country with a Giant Colonial Legacy — Fexingo History / The 1892 Luluabourg Trial: Belgium's Colonial Justice Farce
Transcript
- Lucas: So last time we talked about the 1891 Tetela uprising in Luluabourg, and how the Force Publique crushed it with Maxim guns. But what happened to the leaders after the shooting stopped? Luna: They were put on trial, right? Lucas: Exactly. And that trial — the 1892 Luluabourg military tribunal — is one of those episodes that tells you everything about how colonial justice worked. Or didn't. The main defendant was a Tetela sergeant named Mulumba Nsanda. He'd been a Force Publique soldier for years, fought in the Arab campaigns, and then he led the mutiny. Lucas: The trial was held at Fort Luluabourg, a dusty outpost on the Lulua River, with Commandant Henry presiding. Captain Lothaire prosecuted. The charge was mutiny, which carried a mandatory death sentence. Luna: Was there any real defense? Lucas: Not really. The court was composed entirely of Belgian officers. No Congolese judges, no jury. Mulumba Nsanda was allowed to speak, but his testimony was translated by a clerk who worked for the prosecution. He claimed he was protesting the chicotte — the whip — and the forced labor quotas. But the court dismissed that as insubordination. Lucas: The whole thing lasted maybe two days. Witnesses were other Tetela soldiers, some of whom had been flogged themselves. They corroborated Mulumba's story, but the court didn't care. The verdict was guilty, sentence death by firing squad. Luna: And that was it? No appeal? Lucas: No appeal. Commandant Henry confirmed the sentence the same day. Mulumba Nsanda was executed the next morning in the fort's courtyard, in front of the assembled garrison. They made all the other Tetela soldiers watch. Lucas: But here's the thing — the trial wasn't just about Mulumba. It was a show trial. The Belgians wanted to send a message: any resistance, even a complaint, would be crushed. And they used the legal system to do it, which gave it a veneer of legitimacy. Luna: It reminds me of how they used the chicotte as a tool of terror. But here they used the courtroom the same way. Lucas: Exactly. And it worked — for a while. After the execution, there were no more mutinies in Luluabourg for about four years. But the resentment just went underground. The 1895 uprising, which we covered in episode 115, was partly fueled by the memory of Mulumba Nsanda. Lucas: So the trial was a turning point. It showed the Force Publique that legal手段 were just another weapon. But it also created martyrs. And martyrs are dangerous. Luna: Yeah, you can execute a man but not his story. Lucas: Speaking of stories — we've been doing this show without any ads, and that's a deliberate choice. If you've been stepping into history with us episode by episode, and you want to support that, the link is buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. No pressure, just a way to keep this ad-free. Luna: It's nice to have a history show that doesn't interrupt with commercials. Lucas: So back to the trial. One detail I love: after the execution, the Belgians confiscated Mulumba's belongings — a rifle, a uniform, and a small tin of gunpowder. They auctioned them off to the highest bidder among the soldiers. That was standard procedure. It's such a cold, bureaucratic way to erase a person. Luna: Who bought them? Lucas: A Songye corporal named Kasongo. He was from a rival ethnic group, and the Belgians deliberately fostered those divisions. So the gun that had been used to fight the Belgians ended up in the hands of a collaborator. It's a metaphor for the whole system. Lucas: The trial records survived, by the way. They were sent to Boma and filed away. A Belgian historian named Jules Marchal found them in the 1990s. They're in the archives in Brussels, if you ever want to read them. Everything I'm telling you comes from those documents. Luna: What do the records actually say? Like, word for word? Lucas: They're in French, but there's a translated testimony from Mulumba: 'I did not refuse to fight. I refused to be beaten like a dog. The officer said I was lazy. I have marched from Lusambo to Luluabourg in seven days. I have killed Arabs for the king. I am not lazy.' And then the court's response: 'The accused shows a defiant attitude. His claims are irrelevant.' Luna: So they just dismissed his entire life of service. Lucas: Completely. And that's the tragedy. Mulumba Nsanda had been a model soldier for years. He'd even been given a medal, the Congo Free Star, for his service in the Arab campaign. But the moment he complained about the chicotte, he became a mutineer. The medal didn't matter. Lucas: The trial also exposed the racial hierarchy of the Force Publique. African soldiers could rise to the rank of sergeant, but they were still subject to corporal punishment. Belgian officers were never whipped. That double standard was a constant source of tension. Luna: And the chicotte itself — was it officially sanctioned? Lucas: Officially, yes. It was a whip made of hippopotamus hide, dried and cut into a long strip. It could draw blood with a single stroke. The Force Publique regulations allowed up to fifty lashes for minor offenses. And it was used routinely, often in public. The Belgians called it 'maintaining discipline.' The Congolese called it Bula Matari — 'breaker of rocks.' Luna: Mulumba's trial was about more than one man. It was about the whole system. Lucas: Exactly. And the system was designed to crush any challenge. But it also created resistance. The Tetela and Songye soldiers who watched Mulumba die didn't forget. Four years later, they rose again. And this time, they nearly succeeded.