25 December 1975 -- Malabo Football Stadium Massacre

“Those Were the Days” -- Mary Hopkins

It may be that only historians, stamp collectors, and those who profit from its rich oil reserves give the small Republic of Equatorial Guinea the attention it merits … well they and the population whose misfortune it is to inhabit this land largely forsaken by benevolence and hope. United Nations agencies, NGOs, international studies have again and again pointed to that unfortunate nation’s record of forced labor, sexual slavery, political violence, and government corruption. Its human rights record is among the world’s worse, and despite Equatorial Guinea being per capita the wealthiest nation in Africa, the overwhelming majority of its people are confined to bone crushing poverty. One in every five children born here perishes before reaching his or her fifth birthday. Less than half the population has access to safe drinking water. Freedom of the press is virtually nonexistent.  

And, believe it or not, things are far better now than they were a generation ago.

On 12 October 1968, the Republic of Equatorial Guinea sprang into existence. Before then the region had been Spanish Guinea. Even as African nations began to shake off the shackles of colonialism, Spain attempted to retain its hold on this rich West African land, but its native population, never realizing its own people could give rise to leaders every bit as brutal as their former colonial overseers, chose the path of independence.

Francisco Macías Nguema became president of the new nation on the very day it came into existence. It would be he and those abetted his regime who damned the unfortunate people of Equatorial Guinea to a hell from which they are yet to escape.

Born Mez-m Ngueme, the future president was one of at least eleven children born to a reputedly fratricidal tribal chief and witchdoctor. At the age of nine, Ngueme witnessed a colonial administer beat his father to death after the chief invoked his tribal status while attempting to negotiate better wages for his people. The following week, Ngueme’s distraught mother took her own life. The young boy and his ten siblings were left to fend for themselves. Somehow, Nqueme not only survived, but thrived.

As the Spanish gradually reduced their presence in Spanish Guinea, Ngueme, better known by the hispanized Francisco Macías Nguema, stood for office in the only free presidential election his tortured country would ever know. Standing on a strongly nationalistic platform, he won a contested runoff vote. His main opponent would later vanish, his fate still a matter of controversy.

Francisco Macías Nguema

Macías Nguema initially seemed content to follow the well-trod path of the typical tyrant: He soon repealed the Constitution, delegating to himself all executive, legislative, and judicial powers. All political parties save his own were prohibited, and he was anointed president for life. All political dissent was made illegal. These changes when submitted to the population of Equatorial Guinea in the form of a plebiscite implausibly passed with 99.9% approval.

But Macías Nguema was no mere tyrant. He was a tyrant whose insanity rivaled that of the most improbable comicbook villain. For example, he bestowed upon himself absurdly flattering titles as "Unique Miracle" and "Grand Master of Education, Science, and Culture." Equatorial Guinea’s national motto was changed to "There is no other God than Macías Nguema." Not one to bother with trifles, he could not be troubled to use any rational means to account for government funds. Rather, after murdering the governor of the national bank, he had the entire treasury moved to his rural home. The use of Western medicine was outlawed and use of the word “intellectual” banned. Perhaps Macías Nguema’s fondness for hallucinogens prompted his eccentricity or perhaps he was simply mad. Perhaps both played a role.

Macías Nguema’s insanity ran far beyond the ludicrous and deep into the genocidal. Over 20% percent of Equatoguinean natives are thought to have been murdered by his regime. Another third of the population fled the nation to avoid sharing their fate.  It should not be thought that leaving leaving Equatorial Guinea ensured safety, however: The dictator ordered routes leading from the country seeded with mines to slow the exodus of potential victims. Approximately half of the country’s educated class were slaughtered or escaped into exile. Equatorial Guinea has not yet recovered from this crippling loss of talent and expertise. Murder replaced rule of law. Even the wearing of glasses warranted death. It was not for nothing that Macías Nguema’s Equatorial Guinea was known as the "the Dachau of Africa."

Sometimes whimsy and terror overlapped in unimaginably horrifying manners. Consider, for example, Christmas Day of 1975 -- the date of the obscenely grotesque Malabo Football Stadium Massacre. About 150 of Macías Nguema’s opponents were led into a soccer stadium in the nation’s capital. There soldiers gunned down the condemned prisoners as the stadium’s public address system blared Mary Hopkin’s wistful anthem to the idealism of youth.

“Those Were the Days” -- Mary Hopkins

Once upon a time there was a tavern

Where we used to raise a glass or two

Remember how we laughed away the hours

And dreamed of all the great things we could do

Those were the days my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

For we were young and sure to have our way.

Then the busy years went rushing by us

We lost our starry notions on the way

If by chance I'd see you in the tavern

We'd smile at one another and we'd say

Those were the days my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

La la la la...

Just tonight I stood before the tavern

Nothing seemed the way it used to be

In the glass I saw a strange reflection

Was that lonely woman really me

Those were the days my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

La la la la...

Through the door there came familiar laughter

I saw your face and heard you call my name

Oh my friend we're older but no wiser

For in our hearts the dreams are still the same

Those were the days my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

La la la la...

On 29 September 1979, it came Macías Nguema turn to stand before a firing squad. Even his inner circle, his own clan and kin, discovered they were not immune to his unhinged paranoia and vicious brutality. Abandoned by his soldiers, he was hunted down, captured, tried, and condemned. The former strongman faced his executioners bravely and calmly. Perhaps in his last moments, he was remembering days he thought would never end.