way to liberation. In his book Guerrilla Warfare (Ocean Press) Che defines the revolutionary combatant, the guerrilla, as a “social reformer” who “launches himself against the conditions of the reigning institutions at a particular moment and dedicates himself with all the vigor that circumstances permit to breaking the mold of these institutions.” Che emphasizes the importance of ideological motivation and further argues the guerrilla movement can only survive with the support of the local population and, for that reason, the behavior of individual guerrillas must be strictly ethical at all times. In analyzing the Cuban experience in his essay “Socialism and Man in Cuba,” Che stressed the importance of example, noting, “in the attitude of our [Rebel Army] combatants could be glimpsed the man and woman of the future.”
For further reading on Che Guevara’s views on revolutionary combatants, see: “What is a Guerrilla Fighter?” in the newspaper Revolución, February 19, 1959; “Morale and Discipline of Revolutionary Combatants,” Verde Olivo magazine, March 17, 1960; and “Guerrilla Warfare: A Method” in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press) as well as his book, Guerrilla Warfare (Ocean Press).
6. Here “Rhodesia” is used in a geographic not political sense to refer to the area occupied by Zambia and Zimbabwe. In 1910, Northern Rhodesia (today Zambia) separated from Southern Rhodesia, which was called Rhodesia after 1964. In 1980, it became known as Zimbabwe, after independence following the Lancaster House (London) agreements of September and December of 1979.
The second act opens in the Congo and includes some incidents whose meaning, for the time being, still cannot be explained, such as my appointment at the head of the Cuban forces, even though I am white; the selection of the future combatants; the organization of my secret departure, the limited possibility for leave-taking, the explanatory letters, the whole series of secret maneuvers that it would be dangerous even today to put on paper, and which can anyway be clarified at a later date.1
After the hectic round of bittersweet farewells, which in the best scenario was expected to be for a number of years, the last step was the clandestine journey itself, the details of which also cannot be revealed.
I was leaving behind nearly 11 years of work alongside Fidel for the Cuban revolution, and a happy home, if that is the right word for the abode of a revolutionary dedicated to his task and a bunch of kids who scarcely knew how much I loved them. The cycle was beginning again.
One fine day I turned up in Dar es-Salaam. No one recognized me, not even the ambassador—an old compañero [Pablo Rivalta] who had been with us in the invasion [of central Cuba during the revolutionary war in 1958] and was a captain in the Rebel Army—or was able to identify me.
We installed ourselves on a small farm, rented as temporary accommodation as we waited for the group of 30 men who were to join us. At that point there were three of us: Commander Moja, an Afro-Cuban, who was the official head of our force; Mbili, a white compañero with great experience in these matters; and Tatu—myself, presented as a doctor—whose color was explained by the fact that I spoke French and had guerrilla experience. Our names meant: one, two, three, in that order. To save ourselves headaches, we decided to number ourselves by order of arrival, and to use the corresponding Swahili word as our name.
I had not told any Congolese of my decision to fight in their country, and opted not to inform them of my presence for the time being. I didn’t mention it in my first conversation with Kabila because nothing had been decided; and once the plan was approved, it would have been dangerous for the plan to be known before I reached my destination as I had to travel through a lot of hostile countries. I therefore decided to present my arrival as a fait accompli and to proceed from there, according to how they reacted. I was not unaware that a negative response would put me in a difficult situation as I could no longer return [to Cuba], but I also calculated that it would be difficult for them to refuse me. I was blackmailing them with my physical presence.
But an unexpected problem arose. Kabila was in Cairo with all the members of the revolutionary government, discussing aspects of combat unity and the new constitution of the revolutionary organization. His deputies, Massengo and Mitoudidi, were there with him. The only person left with authority was Tchamlesso, later to acquire the Cuban nickname “Tremendo Punto.” Tchamlesso accepted on his own responsibility the 30 instructors that we offered initially, but when we told him that we had some 130 men, all black [Afro-] Cubans, ready to begin the struggle, he took responsibility for accepting this also. This slightly changed the first part of our strategy because we had assumed we would be operating on the basis of 30 Cubans accepted as instructors.
A delegate headed off for Cairo to tell Kabila and his compañeros that the Cubans had arrived (but not that I was there), while we waited for the arrival of the initial contingent.
Our most urgent task was to find a fast boat with a good motor, so that we would be able to cross in relative safety the 70 kilometers that was the width of Lake Tanganyika at the crossing point. One of our good experts had arrived in advance to take charge of both buying the launches and exploring the way across the lake.
After waiting several days in Dar es-Salaam—a wait which, though short, made me anxious because I wanted to get to the Congo as soon as possible—the first group of Cubans arrived on the night of April 20. Fourteen of us then set off, leaving behind four new arrivals for whom equipment had not yet been purchased. We were accompanied by two drivers, the Congolese representative (Tchamlesso), and a Tanzanian policeman to clear up any problems en route.
Right from the start, we confronted a reality that would vex us throughout the struggle: the lack of organization. This greatly concerned me because our passage must have been detected by imperialism, which has power over all the airline companies and airports in the region, apart from the fact that the purchase of unusual quantities of backpacks, nylon sheeting, knives, blankets, etc. must have attracted attention in Dar es-Salaam.
Not only was the Congolese organization bad; ours was too. We had not thoroughly prepared for the task of equipping a company, and had obtained only rifles and ammunition for the soldiers, all armed with Belgian FALs.
Kabila had not arrived and announced he expected to remain in Cairo two more weeks, so that, as I had been unable to discuss my own involvement with him, I had to carry on incognito, not even announcing myself to the Tanzanian government in order to ask for its acquiescence. To be honest, these problems did not bother me particularly because I was eager to play a role in the Congo struggle and I feared that my offer might arouse an extremely sharp reaction and that the Congolese—or the friendly government itself—might ask me not to become involved in the conflict.
On the evening of April 22 we reached Kigoma after an exhausting journey, only to find the launches were not ready and we had to wait another day to make the crossing. The regional commissioner, who received us and organized accommodation, wasted no time in telling me of the Congolese complaints. Unfortunately, all indications were that many of his judgments were correct: the commanders in the area, who had received our first exploratory delegation, were now in Kigoma; and we verified that they were granting passes for men to go there from the front. That little town was a sanctuary where the fortunate ones could go and live away from the hazards of the struggle. The nefarious influence of Kigoma—its brothels, alcohol and especially its secure refuge—would never be sufficiently understood by the revolutionary command.
Finally, at dawn on April 24, we landed on Congolese soil and met a surprised group of well-armed infantry, who solemnly formed up into a little guard of honor. We were shown into a hut that had been specially vacated for us.
Our original information, obtained (I have no idea how) by our inspection agents, had been that on the Congolese side there was a 10-mile-wide
