The Money Run

Last week I flew some wildlife people up to Malebo, about 100 miles northeast of Kinshasa. The grass field is on a great large cattle ranch. The cattle company fenced off their property and don't allow hunting so the place has turned into a de-facto wildlife refuge with large numbers of bonobos and forest buffalo. So many forest buffalo, they sometimes mate with the stock and ruin the bloodline. (I wonder if the heifers dream about the wild long haired bulls who live in the woods.)

There was another aircraft there piloted by a real old time Congo pilot. He was flying Seneca now but he flew 707's in the old days.

He said in the last days of Mobutu they would fly the 707, a great large intercontinental jetliner, to Rio de Janeiro non-stop. They were empty and could make it. The airplane would be loaded full with Zairean paper currency and back to Kinshasa they would go. The aircraft made two stops on the way. One for fuel because they were so heavy; and one stop in Gbadolite, Mobutu's home town and residence to drop off money, a lot of money for the great man. Then, and only then, could they go to Kinshasa and unload the rest of the paper. They were careful to arrive back in Kinshasa after nightfall.

These shipments of course resulted in soul shocking inflation, but if you were the one bringing in the paper, you could stay just ahead of the game; for a while. It all came crashing down, of course, in a maelstrom of chaos, poverty, destruction and war. But the great man was able to hang on for just a little while longer. And that was the object of the game.