In Search of Enemies - A CIA Story - John Stockwell

Savimbi [139)
A liberation movement with its own Lear jet? We understood it
was the gift of a London/ Rhodesian investment company which was
betting on Savimbi to win the war. Special access to Angolan minerals
would be prize aplenty. An ideal gift, the little jet gave Savimbi
long legs across Africa. He could drop in on African leaders near and
far-Jomo Kenyatta in Nairobi, Leopold Senghor in Dakar, Julius
Nyerere in Dar-es-Salaam-while maintaining close supervision of
his campaigns in central Angola.
A UNIT A commander was waiting for us beside the small Silva
Porto terminal building, which was festooned with hundreds of polit·
ical posters and painted slogans. His four-door Fiat sedan quickly
carried us over the two-kilometer dirt track into town, where I was
deposited in the living room of a small house. As Sangumba disappeared
into the adjoining dining room, I caught sight of a stocky man
in a dark green utility uniform sitting at the head of the table. His
skin was very black and his beard full and shiny. His wide, prominent
eyes flashed at me briefly.
A few minutes later, he came through the door and introduced
himself as Jonas Savimbi.
"We will have time to talk, but I must first go to a meeting of the
UNIT A Party Congress," he said. "You are welcome to come."
I followed as Savimbi strode several blocks into a crowd of over
one thousand people that closed around him, singing UNIT A party
songs. He mounted the steps of a public building and went inside.
A few moments later Sangumba appeared on a balcony and began
calling to the crowd and beckoning. I was shoved inside, where I
found an auditorium packed with three hundred or more Africans.
The crowd continued to chant "Savimbi," "UNIT A/' "Angola."
As Savimbi began to speak, the assembly stilled to hear a master
of a speaking style once popular in our own society but now as rare
as the deep-throated belly laugh and the barroom brawl. Savimbi's
voice was rich and well-modulated. As he spoke his whole body
turned to different parts of the audience and he leaned forward and
gestured, reaching his hands to the people, then drawing them back
to his chest. When he nodded the crowd agreed; his displeasure was
theirs also; answers to his questions came thundering back in unison,
"UNIT A," "Angola," "MPLA." The performance reflected his mis·
sionary upbringing-his father had been a part-time evangelical
preacher-and the crowd's reaction was spiritual, more like a prayer
meeting than a political gathering. According to my interpreter, he