快猫短视频

Bill Close was set to become a well-paid New York surgeon but suddenly had a change of heart and went off to work in the war-torn Belgian Congo. There he met Joseph-D茅sir茅 Mobutu, an ambitious soldier who some years later was to seize power in a bloodless coup in what was by then the Republic of the Congo (and later, Zaire). Through Mobutu鈥檚 support for Close鈥檚 medical work, they became friends, but dangerous tensions lurked beneath the surface. Close talked to Curtis Abraham.

It was 1950s America and you were a young surgeon at a good hospital 鈥� what changed?

My wife Bettine and I met a man from the Moral Re-Armament movement, who told us about MRA鈥檚 four standards: honesty, purity, unselfishness and love, adding that if people wanted to change the world they had to change themselves first. The idea of a 鈥渨orld mission鈥� to change people and nations led me to resign from New York鈥檚 Roosevelt Hospital and commit to MRA full-time.

What did your professors think of your decision?

Two of them took me for lunch at their clubs to talk me out of it. But I got bitten by the bug. They understood but were disappointed. I would have ended up with a typical, quite successful surgical practice in New York.

How did you end up in Africa?

In 1960, MRA was assembling a team to go to the Belgian Congo at the invitation of Kalamaba, a chief of the Lulua tribe, who believed MRA might help end bloody conflicts between that tribe and another, the Luba. I was chosen because I was bilingual in French and had a medical black bag.

What were conditions in the hospital like?

Difficult, to say the least. I met the last Belgian surgeon there, Marcel Priquin, and he asked me if I could take X-rays. I told him that I couldn鈥檛 but was willing to learn. The old man had a simple X-ray machine and tanks of developing fluid. He showed me charts with the settings for various X-rays and said: 鈥淚f the picture is too dark, give it more volts. If the contrast is not clear, give it more amps. But try to get it right the first time 鈥� we may have a hard time getting film if this chaos continues.鈥�

How was surgery?

We were often at gunpoint when we operated, so it was extremely tense. Once when I was operating on a Congolese soldier, we ran out of catgut. I asked my Congolese assistant to get some from next door. He refused, so I set off. Two soldiers stopped me. One said: 鈥淵ou can鈥檛 leave. If you don鈥檛 save our man, I鈥檒l kill you.鈥�

What were resources like?

We used every millimetre of suture material, and gauze pads were retrieved, washed and used again. I had to improvise techniques, like the time a kid was brought in with concussion after falling out of a mango tree. When his blood pressure shot up, I realised he must have a subdural or epidural bleed, but couldn鈥檛 tell which. The only way to save him was to make a burr hole through the skull to relieve the pressure. We had no trephine so I asked the sister to get a brace and a drill bit from the carpentry shop. She had to wipe them off with alcohol, but they worked 鈥� the kid recovered.

When did you first come across Mobutu?

I had been told that Colonel Mobutu was the most effective guy in the army. So, in 1960 as a naive American I waited for him, introduced myself as the surgeon at the hospital, and asked if he could do something about the violence so we could catch up in the operating room. He raised his eyebrows, said: 鈥淵es, it鈥檚 possible,鈥� then sped off. Later he sent for me to see one of his great-aunts who had a fish bone stuck in her throat. Luckily I managed to pull it out.

What was Mobutu like?

I was struck by his charm and thoughtfulness. He loved his family, but was tough on his sons. Mobutu鈥檚 voice was clear, strong and often passionate. He had little patience with fools. I learned that his tolerance of people on the take, especially his own family, was normal in Africa. A successful leader must provide. He was also a voracious reader: Machiavelli鈥檚 The Prince had an honoured place at his bedside, along with heavy volumes with soporific titles about economics, geopolitics and history. Napoleon and de Gaulle were his mentors.

Did you become friends?

We drank cognac at his home and talked. In 1969 Bettine and I realised we didn鈥檛 have the cash to pay for our daughter Glenn鈥檚 wedding. Mobutu suggested paying me $20,000 as an annual retainer. He offered $40,000, two years鈥� worth, for the years I鈥檇 already done. It was a lot 鈥� enough for a lovely wedding and a down payment on a ranch in Wyoming.

Did becoming his personal doctor change things?

If you become a physician for a head of state you can do a lot for the people. Mobutu asked me to be the administrator at the hospital. The place was a death trap, and nepotism was rife. I thought about it, then gave Mobutu a written statement saying I would reorganise and rebuild the hospital on condition I reported to him only, and had hire-and-fire without interference. Surprisingly, he agreed. I knew almost nothing about managing a large public hospital but I did hire extraordinary men and women. By 1972 we did 10,000 operations a year, double the previous total, and we delivered about 130 babies every day.

What was it like when Mobutu visited the wards?

The intensive care unit was a special place. On one visit, a woman who could only watch us through a peephole in a heavy bandage, because her husband had thrown acid at her, grasped Mobutu鈥檚 hand and pressed it to the slit in the gauze by her swollen lips. He said to her: 鈥�Mama, bon courage,鈥� and then said that he would pay for some of her hospital care.

Why did your relations with Mobutu go sour?

During a trip with Mobutu to Germany in 1974 when I expressed my disgust to the man in charge of his security about all the hangers-on. The president got really annoyed that I had criticised him to somebody else. He told me to go back to Kinshasa. I hated being fired but on the train ride along the Rhine I was relieved not to carry that heavy black bag any more.

Did you ever go back?

Yes. In 1994 鈥� and again in 1996. The prime minister, a former patient, phoned to say he鈥檇 told the press I was returning to Kinshasa to rebuild the emergency service and nine operating rooms at the old hospital. When I got there I found listless, bedraggled people: it was nearly as bad as 1960. Mosquito screens were torn. The place reeked of sweaty bed sheets and purulent dressings. The hospital had received no funds for nearly a decade: there were no syringes, dressings, plaster, sutures, and so on. Patients had to buy their own operating room supplies, anaesthetics and intravenous drips at inflated prices.

鈥淏y 1994, the hospital had received no funds for nearly a decade鈥�

Did Mobutu do any good at all in those years?

In the mid-1980s, most governments didn鈥檛 want to deal with HIV and AIDS because it was limited to politically insignificant outcasts. As evidence of heterosexual spread emerged, Mobutu was told that Zaire badly needed an information programme. He was sceptical and apprehensive about negative publicity, but a few weeks on he launched an aggressive campaign. This was responsible for keeping HIV prevalence at an astonishingly low 5 per cent despite prolonged years of conflict.