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PHOTOS: Haunting photographs of Patrice Lumumba, Congo’s first Prime Minister, alongside his closest allies, Maurice Mpolo and Joseph Okito

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Haunting photographs of Patrice Lumumba, Congo’s first Prime Minister, alongside his closest allies, Maurice Mpolo and Joseph Okito, under guard as they await their fate, January 1961
It was not merely the image of three men under arrest, but of a young nation’s dream being strangled before it could take root.

Patrice Émery Lumumba was born on 2 July 1925 in Onalua, Kasai Province, in the Belgian Congo. By the late 1950s, as the winds of independence swept across Africa, he emerged as one of the sharpest voices against colonial domination. In 1958, he co-founded the Mouvement National Congolais (MNC), the first truly national party calling for unity in a country divided by ethnicity, class, and Belgian influence.

When Congo held its first elections in May 1960, Lumumba’s party triumphed, and on 24 June 1960, at just 34 years old, he was sworn in as the country’s first Prime Minister. At the independence ceremony on 30 June, before King Baudouin of Belgium and international dignitaries, Lumumba refuses to follow the expected script of polite gratitude. Instead, he delivered a speech that resonated with Africans everywhere and unsettled the colonial establishment. He spoke openly about the hardships of Belgian rule and reminded his people that independence had been won “through struggle and sacrifice, not a gracious gift.” That moment marked him as a symbol of African pride, and a target for those who opposed his vision.

Barely weeks after independence, Congo plunged into crisis. The army mutinied, their colonial officers supported the secession of the mineral-rich province of Katanga under Moïse Tshombe, and chaos spread. Lumumba turned to the United Nations, appealing for help to preserve Congolese sovereignty. But the UN limited its role to peacekeeping without challenging their colonizers involvement directly.

This left Lumumba increasingly isolated as his opponents consolidated power.

Seeking assistance elsewhere, Lumumba approached the Soviet Union. In the Cold War climate, this move raised concern in Western capitals. Western officials described Lumumba as a serious risk to Western interests, and their colonizers also worked with Katangan leaders to weaken him.

Internal betrayal cut deepest. Joseph Kasavubu, the ceremonial President meant to share power with Lumumba, announced Lumumba’s dismissal on 5 September 1960. Lumumba refused to step down, insisting on his legitimacy as the elected head of government. But days later, on 14 September, Colonel Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, an officer Lumumba himself had elevated seized power in a coup. Mobutu presented himself as neutral, but he was aligned with external backers. Lumumba was placed under house arrest by the very men he had trusted.

Still defiant, Lumumba attempted to escape in early December 1960 to Stanleyville (Kisangani), where his supporters had declared the Free Republic of the Congo. Betrayed en route, he was captured on 1 December by Mobutu’s soldiers. His humiliation began immediately: soldiers mocked him, paraded him through villages, and, according to some accounts, even forced him to swallow the written text of one of his own speeches.

On 17 January 1961, Lumumba and his closest allies; Maurice Mpolo and Joseph Okito were flown under guard to Katanga, then controlled by his rivals. During the flight, they were beaten by Congolese soldiers. In Élisabethville (today Lubumbashi), they were taken to a villa where Moïse Tshombe, Katangan officials, and colonial authorities awaited. That night, they were executed by firing squad.

In the days that followed, efforts were made to conceal what had happened. The authorities initially claimed that Lumumba had escaped custody and been killed by villagers. Few believed this, and when the truth emerged, it triggered outrage across the globe.

Protests and demonstrations broke out in many countries. In Belgrade, Yugoslavia (now Serbia), crowds gathered outside the Belgian embassy chanting slogans in Lumumba’s honor.

In Nigeria, demonstrations erupted in Lagos, Enugu, and Onitsha. In Lagos, protesters converged at Rowe Park in Yaba, and anger spilled over into attacks on foreign-owned businesses before being dispersed by police. Across Africa and beyond, Patrice Lumumba had become more than a man, he was a symbol of independence and dignity.

Even in his final hours, Lumumba remained unbowed. In his last letter to his wife Pauline, he declared that though he might not survive, the Congo’s dignity and freedom would endure. He wrote that history would not be written in Brussels, Washington, or Paris, but in Africa itself, by peoples who had thrown off colonial chains. “Africa,” he promised, “will write its own history, a history of glory and dignity.”

Patrice Lumumba was only 35 when his life was cut short. His death was the result of a web of betrayals: by Kasavubu, who dismissed him; by Mobutu, whom he had promoted but who seized power; by the United Nations, which failed to intervene; and by foreign powers who opposed his leadership. Yet in death, he rose higher than his enemies. His name adorned streets and monuments from Lagos to Belgrade, Accra to Cairo, and beyond.

For decades, his family pleaded for the return of his remains. In 2002, Belgium formally acknowledged its role in his killing, but no amount of recognition could erase the injustice. In 2022 they handed back one of his teeth, the last physical fragment of the man.

Patrice Lumumba’s life was brief, his time in office shorter still, but his vision for an Africa united in dignity and independence endures. He remains not only Congo’s first prime minister, but one of the immortal martyrs of African freedom.

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1965: Joseph Mobutu Sese Seko, President of Congo

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1965: Joseph Mobutu Sese Seko, President of Congo, rolls up sleeves in a pose that seemed he was passionate about his country.

However, the man turned out one of Africa’s worst dictators ruling from 1965 to 1997 a period he changed the country’s name from Congo to Zaire.

He also served as the fifth chairperson of the Organisation of African Unity from 1967 to 1968. During the Congo Crisis in 1960, Mobutu, then serving as Chief of Staff of the Congolese Army, deposed the nation’s democratically elected government of Patrice Lumumba. Mobutu installed a government that arranged for Lumumba’s execution in 1961, and continued to lead the country’s armed forces until he took power directly in a second coup in 1965.

In 1997, when tension in his country got worse, Mobutu went into temporary exile in Togo, until President Gnassingbé Eyadéma insisted that Mobutu leave the country a few days later.

From 23 May 1997, he lived mostly in Rabat, Morocco. He died there on 7 September 1997 from prostate cancer at the age of 66. He is interred in an above ground mausoleum at Rabat, in the Christian cemetery known as Cimetière Européen.

In December 2007, the National Assembly of the Democratic Republic of the Congo recommended returning his remains, and interring them in a mausoleum in the DRC, which has not yet taken place. Mobutu remains interred in Morocco.

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Francisca Nneka Okeke: First female Physics Professor From Eastern Nigeria

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Francisca Nneka Okeke is a Professor of Physics at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN). She has contributed to the development of physics at the secondary and tertiary levels in her country Nigeria, writing several textbooks and articles that have enhanced the teaching and learning of the subject in the country.

A trailblazer, Prof. Okeke was the first female Head of the Department of Physics and Astronomy (2003-2006), the first female Dean of the Faculty of Physical Sciences (2008-2010), the first indigenous woman who became a Professor in the Faculty of Science and Engineering of the UNN and the first woman Professor of Physics in East Nigeria. She currently serves as the Director of ICCSEE-UNN, where she continues supporting Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics (STEM) and mentoring women and girls in science.

Prof. Okeke received several awards and recognitions for her contribution to her field. She is a laureate of the L’Oreal-UNESCO 2013 Award for Women in Science for Physical Sciences. She also received accolades from Nigerian academia in 2016 as one of the 10 Most Influential Nigerian Women in Science and among the top 10 lecturers in research and publication at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN).

She has supervised 25 doctorate and 38 master’s students, including two who won the AU-TWAS Young Scientist Award in 2010 and the PG First VC’s Award for 2015-2016, respectively, while publishing 140 papers in international journals.

She is a Fellow of the World Academy of Science (FTWS), the Africa Academy of Science (FAAS), the Nigerian Academy of Science (FAS), and the Japanese Society for Promotion of Science (FJSPS).

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Chief Abraham Salako (Afilaka) and the Peugeot 404 in 1960s Nigeria

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The photograph of Chief Abraham Salako—popularly remembered as Afilaka—standing beside a Peugeot 404 in the 1960s is more than just a family heirloom. It is a cultural snapshot of post-independence Nigeria, where tradition and modernity converged in striking ways.

Chief Abraham Salako – Afilaka

Chief Abraham Salako was a respected Yoruba community leader whose nickname, Afilaka, became inseparable from his identity. In Yoruba tradition, such epithets often outlive the individual, capturing achievements, traits, or community influence. Over time, Salako’s nickname grew into a family identity, adopted proudly by his descendants as a surname—an enduring marker of heritage.

As a chief, Salako embodied the hybrid role of mid-20th century Yoruba leaders: guardians of custom on one hand, and pioneers of modern lifestyles on the other. His position reflected the aspirations of a Nigeria newly freed from colonial rule in 1960, when chiefs and elites sought to blend ancestral authority with contemporary sophistication.

The Peugeot 404 in Nigeria

The Peugeot 404, produced between 1960 and 1975 by French automaker Peugeot, quickly became one of the most recognizable cars in Nigeria. The car in Salako’s possession, identified by the license plate WL6404A in family memory, was more than a mode of transportation—it was a symbol.

Prestige and Affluence

In 1960s Nigeria, to own a Peugeot 404 was to declare success. Chiefs, politicians, and prosperous traders often used the vehicle to showcase their social standing.

Durability in Africa

The 404’s reputation was cemented by its performance in tough conditions, including multiple victories in the East African Safari Rally (1963, 1966, 1967, 1968). In Nigeria, where roads were still developing, the Peugeot was celebrated as a car that could withstand both rough terrain and long journeys.

Economic Ties with Europe

The Peugeot also mirrored Nigeria’s trade relations with France. In later years, Peugeot Automobile Nigeria (PAN) was established in Kaduna (1972), ensuring that the 404 and its successors became a fixture of Nigerian motoring life.

Nigeria in the 1960s – The Backdrop

Chief Salako’s photograph cannot be divorced from the larger context of 1960s Nigeria:

A New Nation

Nigeria had just gained independence in 1960. Cars like the Peugeot 404 were embraced as markers of modernity and progress.

Tradition Meets Modernity

Chiefs like Salako stood at the crossroads of two worlds. They retained the respect of traditional leadership structures while embracing the tools of modern life, from Western education to imported automobiles.

Cocoa Wealth and the Rise of an Elite Class

In Western Nigeria, the cocoa boom of the 1950s–60s fueled prosperity. Elites and community leaders invested their wealth in modern housing, education, and cars like the Peugeot 404—symbols of both personal success and communal pride.

The Legacy of Afilaka

Chief Abraham Salako’s legacy did not end with his lifetime. The adoption of Afilaka as a family name illustrates how Yoruba nicknames can evolve into permanent identities, linking generations to ancestral memory.

His photograph beside the Peugeot 404 captures a defining moment in Nigerian history: when chiefs personified both cultural continuity and forward-looking aspiration. It is a visual testimony of ambition, prestige, and the embrace of modern sophistication in a rapidly changing nation.

Cultural Significance

This single family photograph is more than a keepsake. It is a window into post-independence Nigeria—showing how imported cars became symbols of modern status, how Yoruba chiefs navigated between tradition and progress, and how heritage can be preserved in a single name.

The license plate number (WL6404A) should be treated as a family detail rather than a confirmed archival record, since 1960s Nigerian license plate registries are not publicly digitized.

The link between cocoa wealth and elite car ownership is broadly accurate, but Chief Salako’s direct connection to cocoa trade is part of the wider Yoruba elite narrative rather than a verified individual record.

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