The tale of a brave woman

It’s the afternoon of July 1, 2005 and I receive an SOS from the Northeastern town of Cafunfo, in the diamond-rich Cuango Valley, via satellite. A contact person has called for help claiming the police had gone on a shooting rampage against garimpeiros (diamond diggers). The caller says that two diggers have already been killed.

 

The person called me back after midnight in despair, but got the voice mail. A member of his own family, a woman, had been hit in the raid. Later in the day, July 2, he phoned again to request immediate assistance to evacuate 34-year-old Manasseja Lituaia, to the Angolan capital Luanda. She had lost her child who had been strapped to her back when a bullet was fired at the child’s head. The bullet passed through her son and into her own back. She was in urgent need of medical assistance.

 

It was a familiar story. As Angola emerges from a 27-year long civil conflict, the country is in a vulnerable position as citizens struggle to come to terms with a country no longer at war. It’s damaged infrastructure as a result of the quarter-century war means that in the scramble for scarce resources civilians are often pitted against the authorities. Even in times of peace, life is still fragile.

 

The death of Amorzinhino, Manasseja Lituaia’s son was evidence of this fragility.

 

On July 6, as I lay the table for breakfast, Manasseja Lituaia stood by my doorstep, a lean and bent frame with a wrap covering her head. She had a swollen face and a penetrating look. She carried all her travel possessions in a bundle wrapped around her waist.

 

“Before you take me to the hospital or whatever happens, I want to speak to the radio first so people may know how Vadinho [a police officer] shot me in the back and killed my son Amorzinho [Little Love],” she said before sitting down.

 

I felt strange and helpless to invite such a wounded person, who had not received proper medical care in five days, to have breakfast. In fact she had not eaten properly for days. She had a one way ticket for the only plane that regularly flies to that area, a shabby Russian cargo.

 

Manasseja Lituaia explained how it happened: Several police officers, who filled up three Land-Rovers, arrived at the informal mining area of Lucola, Cafunfo, besieged the area and went on confiscating dredging materials, diamonds, cash, etc.

 

There was an informal market at the mining area where Manasseja Lituaia was selling meat and fish stocks. A police officer, she identified as being an investigator at Cafunfo Police Command, named Vadinho, got out of the car with a pistol at the ready and went to question the market vendors.

 

“I told the police officer that we were on a survival scheme. If he wanted us out of the market, all he had to do was to tell us to leave and we would do so, but he could not threaten us, because we had done nothing wrong,” she said.

 

“I took my son Amoriznho from underneath my meat and fish stand, and I wrapped him on my back and walked three steps out of the place when I heard a gunshot and felt my arm cold.” As she looked back, she saw a stream of blood running from Amorzinho’s head. Her son was dead.

 

The garimpeiros reacted immediately by throwing stones and bottles at the police officers. “Thus, the ‘war’ started. The police opened fire against the youth and I saw two of them falling dead. Then, the police retreated,” she related.

 

Early that evening, a man passing through, with a vehicle, transported Manasseja Lituaia along with the body of her son close to the Cafunfo Police Command. “I took my son to the police station and told them they were responsible for his fate and it was up to them to dispose his body,” she said.

 

In response, the police took her to the hospital to spend the night, where she did, next to her dead son. According to her, the hospital staff refused her treatment or to take care of her dead child’s body and forced her out of the hospital early in the morning.

 

After her release, she immediately walked back to the police station carrying her son’s body. She met with police resistance and eventually laid down the cadaver at the station’s veranda and walked away. The local police commander then ordered his rank-and-file to prepare the body, and buy a casket for burial.

 

The child was buried without a single member of his close or extended family in attendance, but only police officers. He lay in a cemetery, in Bairro Gika against the family’s will who wanted it to happen in their neighborhood cemetery of Bala-Bala. The local police command gave the family a total of US$500 for the wake expenses.

 

After breakfast and hearing her story, I called Superintendent Carmo Neto, the spokesperson of the General Command of the Police (Comando Geral da Polícia Nacional – CMGPN) about the case who promised to see me in two hours.

 

I explained to Manasseja Lituaia that the best thing to do would be to report the case to the police who would find a solution. She stressed that the police killed her son and that she would rather go to the radio to tell the story of Amorzinho.

 

At the CMGPN Manasseja Lituaia’s case received full attention. A meeting of its top brass was underway. They all saw her, sitting like a bundle next to the VIP elevator used by all senior officials. They could not miss her.

 

Finally, one of the top police commanders gave his assurances that she would have the best care possible and her case would be handled properly. A formal report of the crime was made and Manasseja Lituaia was then finally taken to the military hospital for treatment.

 

An x-ray showed that the bullet had hit her and fallen out. It was probably due to a loss of impact after piercing her child’s head. Amorzinho’s death had saved her life.

 

The grieving mother traveled back home, escorted by a police delegation, which now has the task to conduct an enquiry. She is waiting to be served with justice; but there is no compensation for the pointless death of her son.