Zairian Flag Fist and Flame

The Fist and the Flame flew over the chunk of land called Zaire from 1964 to 1997, under President Mobutu Sese Seko Da Wa Bongo. Mobutu was supported in his assent by the United States, because he was stanchly anti-communist, but toward the end of his reign, his excesseses embarassed even the Americans. From Grains of Golden Sand, a joke circulated:

"It so happened, that when Mobutu and the leader of a Western nation were both puppy politicians, Mobutu was invited to visit the foreigner’s home. Noting the manicured lawn, swimming pool, and modern furniture, Mobutu was bursting with curiosity. But he held his tongue until they were seated in the den and the door was closed. “Forgive me, but I can't help noticing that, as a politician, you live like a wealthy man. In my country, public servants go hungry. Is there a secret you can share with a poor African? I would be most grateful.”

"At this, the Westerner chuckled. “My friend, it’s quite simple. Come here and I’ll show you.”

He led Mobutu to a window, pulled the drape, and pointed. “Do you see that four‑lane highway there?”

"“Sure I do,” replied Mobutu.

"“Well,” said the politician with a conspiring wink and a patting motion against his side, “ten percent—in the pocket!”

"The enlightened Mobutu returned to his country. Years passed and both ascended the political ladders of their respective countries. They were Heavy Dudes now. One day an aide presented the Westerner with a gilded invitation to visit his old friend President Mobutu.

"The Western leader was met at the airport: red carpet, military band, native dancers, the works. His friend Mobutu pumped his hand enthusiastically. In the car, flanked by a phalanx of security, the convoy raced to Mobutu's mansion. Vast expanses of estate flashed past, and finally, the Mercedes pulled up to an enormous palace. The Western politician was astonished to note the opulence of the villa lined with rare porcelains, Gauguin masterpieces, and priceless hanging tapestries. Poor African indeed, he thought.

"Finally, the formalities were over. The liveried servants retired, and the two were left in peace in the posh library, partaking of a fine vintage. “Excuse me, President Mobutu,” the Westerner said, “but wasn't it you who asked me for help years ago? I can see you don't need much help. As a matter of fact, from you, I could learn a thing or two.”

"“My dear friend.” Mobutu beamed. “After all these years, I wanted to thank you for your advice. Everything I learned, I learned from you!”

"“Goodness, Mobutu, what are you talking about?”

"“Come, let me show you.” Mobutu stepped to double doors and opened them wide. The two strolled out onto a grand, flower‑draped terrace overlooking the mighty Zaire River. Mobutu gestured, “Look there. Do you see that suspension bridge across the river linking the eight‑lane highway?”

"The Westerner squinted. “What bridge? What highway? I see nothing!”

"“Of course not! One hundred percent—in the pocket!”"