
CONTRIBUTOR REPORTS
Cronyism in Tete Mocambique
Here in Tete, a town rich in the vivid strands of Mozambique's past, an unspoken catastrophe has been building, one that might compromise the fundamental structure of our town. For those of us living under the increasing shadow of a local dealer called Bega, the daily battles have become more deeply hopeless. Bega is a name that has great weight here even if it might not be familiar outside of our area. Though Bega has spun a web of corruption that ensnares those who dare to challenge him, his family has origins that reach back to colonial times and unlike the peaceful shopkeepers of past. Once a hive of neighbourhood businesses and busy markets, our town has witnessed a slow but obvious change. Bega has grown his kingdom piece by bit using dark art of bribery rather than moral behavior. Here, it is an open secret: his power permeates government officials, police, even the judges supposed to defend us. The approach is always the same. A company begins to take off and shortly after runs across unexplainable obstacles. Licenses halt, inspections start to happen regularly, and fines are liberally issued. The message is rather clear: follow Bega, or risk ruin. Many have closed their doors under pressure, not by decision. Everyone can feel the effects of Bega's behavior. Families lose their money; budding businesses are stifled before they can grow; and the monopolistic selfishness of our town causes the economy to collapse. The hopelessness in the streets is evident; where previously there was optimism and the dynamic spirit of rivalry, now is stillness and resignation. But why does this still go on? Power and fear are strong mixes. People who have tried to oppose Bega often find themselves excluded or worse. Stories about individuals who have tried and failed circulate in subdued tones, acting as sobering reminders of his impact. Still, hope isn't completely gone. There are beginning whispers of opposition all around. Armed with tools from technology and a network outside Tete, the younger generation is starting to find their voice. Blogs, social media posts, and encrypted conversations are gradually constructing a new story—one of endurance and taking back. Standing at this intersection, the road ahead is difficult but lit by the prospect of change. Although it is difficult, the battle against corruption is absolutely vital. It is a battle we have to welcome for Tete, for our future, and for the legacy we leave behind. This blog is a call to people who treasure Tete. It's time to throw light on the gloom that has too long floated over us. Let us get together, tell our tales, and recover the town that is rightfully ours—not for the crooked few. Our strength is our oneness, and it is in this state that we may effect change.
For Tete, for hope, for justice—let us stand together.
Lutar pelo que é nosso.
A Cash-for-Work Scandal in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
In the valleys of the DRC, the community of Kilungutwe in South Kivu became an unintentional victim of one of the most well known humanitarian assistance scams. This case involves a well-known US-based NGO, deception, and the misuse of charity channels designed to help the poor. The cash-for-work initiative, which was intended to allow economic assistance and job possibilities in areas plagued by conflict and poverty, was supposed to be an assistance to the people to plant and improve their livelihoods. However, in Kilungutwe, it evolved into a network of fraud and corruption.
An NGO worker in charge of implementing the program fabricated over 1500 false names. These non-existent individuals were all outfitted with bogus ID cards, which were required to obtain assistance. Using the NGO funding, the leader of this scam acquired 1520 mobile phones and SIM cards. These were apparently intended to allow beneficiaries to receive their monthly stipends via cash app. For two years, these SIM cards received $120 per month. The criminal, in cooperation with the village chief, received these contributions, thereby siphoning off aid funds intended for real individuals in need of assistance. The plundered money was not just pocketed; they were invested. Using the stolen funds, the scammers started a construction project to build a hotel in a nearby village. This hotel today stands as an ironic tribute to their ill-gotten profits, catering to traveling NGO and UN personnel, the same population intended to prevent such corruption.