Albert Sánchez Piñol

This is the story of Idi Amin Dada, Bokassa, Banda, Mobutu Sese Seko, Sékou Touré, Haile Selassie, Macías and Obiang. They were ignorants and they undertook the role of masters. They were insignificant and they thought they were gods. It’s the story of a handful of African dictators. Those men displayed themselves in front of their people and in front of the whole world as exceptional beings. In fair correspondence with their alleged merits, they gave themselves highflown titles as Leader of Iron, Lord of all the Beasts of the Earth and the Fishes of the Sea, or Unique Miracle; they had themselves carried in gestatorial chair; they obliged their peoples to address prayers to them; they hanged their portraits in schools, churches, taverns and brothels, and the gave their names to streets, universities, islands and lakes.

Nothing was impossible for those guys: they could transfer the capital city of their country to a remote village in the jungle, or deposit the treasury of the National Bank in their own basement. If they decided so, a witch would become the head of the Parliament. Any whim became true by their will. They were clowns but they were monsters too. And in monsters, extravagance is indistinguishable from fright. Their subjects suffered the whole spectrum of horrors.  If only they had not been our contemporaries, we would be tempted to negate their existence. But they were real. That’s why we have decided to let them depict themsleves in their own words.