On 9 February, Ali Bongo Ondimba celebrated his 66th birthday alone in his huge villa at La Sablière in Libreville, Gabon’s capital. Well, almost alone: his mother Joséphine Kama, known as Patience Dabany in her musical heyday, was by his side as always.
His sister Pascaline, one of the few people who can visit him whenever she wants, was in Los Angeles, where she has a residence. As for his sons – Jalil and Bilal, who were still living with him a few months ago – they have left Gabon for London.
No doubt, Gabon’s former president, who was deposed on 30 August 2023, compulsorily retired and placed under house arrest, was hoping to be able to celebrate in the company of his wife Sylvia and his son Noureddin, who were imprisoned the day after the putsch.
He was able to speak to them on the phone a few days beforehand, at the end of January, but he was expecting more – that they would be released. He thought that the current president, Brice Clotaire Oligui Nguema, had committed to this on 15 January. Nothing came of it, and he remains alone.
He has had no news from former close associates, including his then-chief of staff Maixent Accrombessi, for example. No one is rushing to visit, no doubt for fear of drawing disapproval from the new authorities. Only his former prime minister Alain-Claude Bilie-By-Nze came to talk with him recently.
Armour and machine guns
After making an official request, The Africa Report was able to visit him, arriving at the entrance of the gigantic, ultra-secure compound at the far end of this quiet, upmarket district of Libreville.
Civilians, likely employed to maintain the villa, wander here and there. A few yards from the large black wrought iron gate that gives access to the residence, an armoured vehicle equipped with a heavy machine gun stands watch, as does another securing the service entrance. Members of the Republican Guard screen visitors.
A soldier in civilian clothes greets us in a small car park, having been informed of our arrival. He leads us down a driveway that runs alongside Bongo’s house, past a tennis court that has clearly not been used for a long time, and then up a slate staircase to a large terrace with a huge rectangular swimming pool in the middle.
As far as the eye can see, the lawn is immaculately mown and the vegetation lush, as if we were in the middle of a tropical forest.
Bongo is waiting on the terrace, seated at a long wooden table. Dressed in a blue polo shirt, jogging bottoms and trainers, he’s killing time with sudokus and crossword puzzles. We shake hands and say hello.
‘Enough is enough’
“I’m fed up… Sylvia and Noureddin have been in prison for a year and a half now. They’ve taken everything away from them. I want them to be here, with me,” he says, noting that their presence wouldn’t make a difference to the current powers.
“I guarantee that we’ll behave ourselves, but at least my wife and my son would be living in more decent conditions, with me,” he says.
The former head of state is convinced that they have been subjected to degrading treatment and even torture, and although a complaint has been lodged in Paris by his lawyers, who have been able to see their clients as have the consular authorities, there is no evidence of this at the moment.
“We once had a meeting at the Palace with my family and Brice [Clotaire Oligui Nguema, the president of the transition]. They showed me accounts that supposedly belonged to me and Sylvia. One was in South Africa and the other in Malaysia, but I never opened them!” he says.
“If we had stolen as much as we’re accused of, oil money or whatever, the various successive finance ministers would know about it! Everything my wife is accused of is false, the embezzlement, the appointments in my place. She never had that power, being absent most of the time,” he says.
A white Chihuahua runs discreetly across the terrace, along the damp-blackened wall of the villa. Bongo orders two carrot juices with ginger from an Indian butler, a sign that a new hunger strike is not on the agenda, contrary to a persistent rumour and the statements of his lawyers.
“That meeting was useless. Since then, I’ve asked five or six times to see Brice Oligui, to no avail. Enough is enough! If he doesn’t release them…” he says, his statement trailing off.
How is he treated? “Better,” he says. “I’ve been able to get my doctors and a speech therapist back. Pascaline is working to improve my day-to-day life and the food I eat.”
Bongo speaks more fluently than when we last spoke to him in May 2024 (Bongo suffered a stroke in October 2018). His speech is better and faster. In terms of his motor skills, however, there has been no improvement. His right leg is still recalcitrant, so he has great difficulty getting around, even though he refuses any assistance and insists on walking alone.
Aside from weariness, there is a definite sense of annoyance about the former president. There is also a certain disconnection.
Bitterness
He acknowledges neither his electoral defeat nor the jubilation that swept through the streets of Libreville when he announced his downfall. He also complains about the Parti démocratique gabonais (PDG), of which he was the undisputed leader. And what about Blaise Louembé, once his minister, who was appointed president of the party on 30 January?
“All this is contrary to party texts. Only I could have called this congress. I had given my instructions to the leaders who came to see me – I was still running the PDG, with a deputy in an executive role – they left my house, rushed to the Palace, and this is the result,” he says.
Bitter, Bongo sighs once more. Night falls gradually. We leave him to return to the car park. He gets up with difficulty, taking his sudokus with him.
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