Kristien Geenen’s research while affiliated with University of Liège and other places

On the basis of fieldwork in Kinshasa, this essay makes a link between riots, the recent anthropology of "surplus populations," and distributive politics in low-income countries, especially Africa. Tracing the history of a political demonstration turned riot, it shows how distribution structures the interactions between rich and poor in the city. Situating the riot in a context in which subjects are dependent on the market for goods but are not able to sell their labor, the essay shows the riot to be a rational intervention in a place where elites do not see popular support as especially important and where occupying space and controlling circulation and distribution are the primary political-economic imperatives.

The relationship between urbanization and mining is a precarious one; the latter often expands at the expense of the former. The incautious urban planning of a mining city in southeastern DR Congo, however, has opened up opportunities for residents with artisanal mining skills. Since the city is constructed on top of mineral deposits, the residents are able to dig ore in their own backyards to draw their subsistence. Based upon archival and ethnographic research, Geenen argues that, by self-generating the livelihoods they expected their resource-rich soil to bring forth, these artisanal diggers take advantage of the urbanized mineral deposits and write their own narrative of capitalism.

This article examines which factors influenced the votes of the workers during union elections in the mining companies in the Democratic Republic of Congo in 2018. Although incumbent and challenging candidates recurred to lavish spending during the electoral campaign, this behavior had turned out hardly decisive on election day. Rather, workers voted for those candidates who had managed to become perceived as a patron. Patronage was acquired above all by improving the labor conditions and securing jobs. As such, workers voted following an evaluative rationale, although social proximity turned out an important factor as well. Regardless of these free elections and the secret ballot, however, the grip of the management upon the chosen union delegation remains very tight, both during and after the elections.

This chapter investigates the everyday hospital life in the largest hospital of Kinshasa, DRC, throughout the colonial and postcolonial period. Doing so, we interrogate the contrast between the persistent reputation of Belgian Congo's colonial healthcare infrastructure as an acclaimed colonial success, and the alleged incapability of postcolonial Congolese healthcare regimes. Rather than rupture, we stress continuities of ambivalent spatial practices and hybrid governance in the medical complex during this longue durée, questioning if and to what extent African healthcare infrastructure effectively fits the often-used, yet perhaps too narrow definition of neocolonial sites.

This article deals with the Belgian colonial authorities’ obsession with classification and categorization, and explores how this obsession affected medical care in the city of Coquilhatville. Whereas the authorities aspired to medical care that was strictly segregated along ‘racial’ lines, providing separate hospitals for Europeans and Africans, in reality such rigorous segregation was unsustainable. I argue that it was the authorities’ inclination to categorize patients that eventually blurred the lines. Indeed, this article shows how the administrators became thoroughly enmeshed in their taxonomic zeal when members of the African upper class, the so-called évolués , demanded different treatment from other Congolese, to reflect their status. Furthermore, these upper-class patients insisted on being differentiated among themselves too. Responding to more and more claims to be discerned from yet another ‘lower’ évolué , and in an attempt to translate social space into physical space and thus provide the applicant with a more sophisticated hospital room, the authorities gradually ran out of options. As a consequence, they – albeit unwillingly – opened the doors to évolués of a hospital that was initially reserved exclusively for Europeans.

This article deals with the way urban planning during colonial times affects the mobility of pedestrians today. In Kinshasa, a green belt cuts the oldest part of the city right in two, and this hinders a smooth traffic flow. The belt is what remains of the neutral zone the colonial authorities implemented to separate the European from the African neighborhoods; it consisted of several large walled-off facilities, such as a zoo, a park, and a hospital. In this article, we explore how pedestrians in Kinshasa deal with these obstructions to their mobility. We show that they forge their pedestrian itineraries through walls designed to be impermeable, in particular by shortcutting through a hospital. These alternative itineraries have solidified through time, revealing the effectiveness of their persistent daily walks. As we argue, the pedestrians actively redefine the mobility patterns of their city.

Despite its major importance in international trade, the city of Butembo in the North Kivu province of the Democratic Republic of Congo is deprived of such basic urban infrastructure as electricity. Private and public actors have attempted to bring power to the city, but their efforts have remained fruitless. Analysis of these failed projects to electrify the city offers a glimpse of local power relations. Why, rather than cooperating, do various local power holders counteract each other? Will gaining credit for bringing electric power to the city in turn yield political power over its future? With a special focus on a hydroelectric dam that was built but never functioned, this article sheds light on the way in which the citizens of Butembo relate to different bodies of authority. I argue that the hydroelectric dam gradually became a tool in a larger political strategy.

In this article, I map out spaces of social encounters and elaborate upon the once openly exposed but now hidden nightlife of the city of Butembo, in eastern Congo. I explore what moves the people of Butembo, where they go to have fun, and what “fun” means in a war torn place. The main focus lies on the city’s countless cabarets, as these seemed the places where people mostly met. A cabaret is a private dwelling where a single woman offers home-brewed alcohol and sexual services alike. Usually, a cabaret bears no signage at all, so from the outside, they are hard to discern from an ordinary house. Yet, their sheer invisibility stands in sharp contrast to their major importance. Cabarets have multiple functions: pleasing clients, exchanging job offers, and sharing frustrations and beers. On top of that, they provide a reliable source of information. Particularly in this climate of violence, being well informed can be a matter of live or death. To the women involved, running a cabaret is both a means to provide an income and to secure future prospects. As I proceed through the article, it will become clear that these obscure cabarets are in fact spaces of sociability with an undeniable importance that contribute to the functioning of the city in many respects. It are places where pleasure and danger meet.

In this article, I translate local narratives about one particular event into a reading of a city as a whole. The city concerned is Butembo, a secondary city in the North Kivu province (DRC). The incident relates to the appearance of a foreign flower in the late 1950s. This water hyacinth — named ‘Congo ya Sika’, which means ‘the New Congo’— caused severe damage to the waterways of the Belgian Congo, and the colonial authorities mobilized the population in an effort to eradicate the plague. Pamphlets and posters were spread, with the request to destroy the pictured flower when spotted. People of Butembo reacted in a most particular way to the appearance of these posters in their city, ascribing the Congo ya Sika flower mythical proportions right from the start. In their interpretation, the appearance of the flower was a sign that ‘the new Congo’ would rise in their town, endowing their place exclusively with a particular force. I scrutinize the myth's origin and analyse its social meaning, in an effort to gain a better understanding of Butembo's society. Throughout my analysis, special attention is paid to (self) representation, and to noise stuck to colonial messages. Résumé Ce travail part de récits locaux à propos d'un événement particulier pour restituer une lecture de toute une ville. Il s'agit de Butembo, une ville secondaire de la province congolaise du Nord‐Kivu. L'incident est liéà l'introduction d'une fleur étrangère à la fin des années 1950. Cette jacinthe d'eau appelée Congo ya Sika, qui signifie ‘Nouveau Congo’ a proliféré dangereusement dans les voies d'eau du Congo belge, incitant les autorités coloniales à mobiliser la population afin d'éradiquer la plante. Des brochures et affiches ont été diffusées, demandant de détruire la fleur représentée dès qu'elle était repérée. La population de Butembo a alors réagi d'une manière très singulière, donnant à la fleur Congo ya Sika une dimension mythique dès le début. Selon l'interprétation des habitants, l'apparition de la fleur était le signe que le ‘nouveau Congo’ naîtrait dans leur ville, conférant à ce site une force spécifique. Après avoir étudié l'origine du mythe, cet article analyse sa signification sociale afin d'appréhender au mieux la société de Butembo. Une attention particulière est accordée à l'(auto)représentation et aux signaux parasites qui se sont raccrochés au message des autorités coloniales.

This article deals with issues of territoriality, public space, the microphysics of power and street gang life in the current urban context of Kinshasa, capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo. In this city, a growing number of street children invade the public places. They team up in gangs and scour the streets in search of a location to settle (for a while). Along with their appropriation of public space, these gangs encounter several actors such as the city authorities, shop owners, tenants or rival street gangs. Before any settlement, deals have to be closed since every inch of the city is negotiable. All participants get involved in these negotiations, for no one is considered marginal, certainly not the street youth who are inextricably bound up with Congolese society. This contribution considers this dynamic field of negotiations through a focus on space and analyses it from a Foucauldian angle. It explores how gang members develop particular ways to control their territories and exercise power in them. Additionally, it examines how street youths manage to construct a home in the streets and make sense of their urban environment in the process.