Macías Nguema Part 1: The Dachau of Africa
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But we're half a world away from the North Pole. We're on an island off the west coast of Central Africa. It's home to Santa Isabel, the capital of Equatorial Guinea. Tonight the city's football stadium is lit by powerful floodlights, but the restless crowd packed into the stands is not here to watch a match. Despite the upbeat pop music emanating from the tannoy system, they're not here to party either.

The onlookers have been herded here to witness as macabre a spectacle as many of them will ever see. On the dry, dusty pitch, 150 men are led out along the whitewashed markings of the halfway line. Their bodies bear the scars and bruises of the beatings they have already endured. They are political prisoners, accused of opposing the government and, more importantly, the president. Francisco Macias Nguema.

They've all been sentenced to death. Summary executions are not exactly rare in Equatorial Guinea, but mass killings don't often take place so publicly. Even rarer is that the president is here in person, but an example must be made. The music stops abruptly. The prisoners are all in place, dust devils swirling around their feet. The crowd is restless, uneasy, but to look away might just put you in the firing line yourself.

On the pitch the executioners lower nooses over the dozens of heads. In the firing squad, weapons are checked and primed. Then the music starts again. From the speakers come the first strains of Mary Hopkins' recent hit, "Those Were the Days, My Friend." With the president smiling on, the killing begins. And just like the lyrics of the song, many watching must think they'll never end. The event is a celebration of the crushing of dissent.

It instills the fear of God, or Macias, into the hearts of those forced to be here. No one in the crowd dares express horror or revulsion, though some will know the victims personally. Not a word can be uttered, or even a thought held against their leader. This is life under Macias' regime. This is a story about a country not often discussed or even encountered in the West.

Once a remote colony named Spanish Guinea, it was more recently the location of one of the least known, yet most disturbing dictatorships of modern times. From 1968 to 1979, Equatorial Guinea, as it became, was helmed by its first and, to date, only freely elected president. Francisco Macías Anguema was a man of limited academic standing.

He had little money, few social connections, no military background, and no great political movement behind him. And yet, protected by a wall of silence, he managed to seize control of a fledgling state, turning it into what was once dubbed the Dachau of Africa. His is a tale of sheer opportunism on the way up, and drug-fueled paranoia and senseless destruction on the way down. From Noisa, this is part one of the Masia story.

And this is real dictators. Equatorial Guinea consists of several different territories, spread across a large geographical area. Borders in sub-Saharan Africa are often the product, at least in part, of the straight lines drawn on maps by colonial administrators. The tribal heritage of the various indigenous peoples did not always fit neatly into modern nation states. And here it's no different. In the Atlas,

Equatorial Guinea is a visually awkward agglomeration. There's a large rectangle of land on the western edge of Central Africa, and then there's a group of islands out in the adjacent bight of Biafra. The biggest of these, Bioko, is just off the coast of Cameroon. The mainland part of Equatorial Guinea is called Riomuni. It's covered in dense rainforest, home to gorillas, chimpanzees, forest elephants and leopards.

The trees occasionally give way to imposing volcanoes and fade to stunning beaches along the coastline. The eastern part of Riomuni, close to neighboring Gabon, is where Meso Mengueme is born. He is the boy who will become known as Francisco Macías Mengueme. We will refer to him throughout by his later mononym, Macías. The year is 1924 or thereabouts. We don't know exactly. Very few records exist of his early life.

We do know that his family belongs to the Fang tribe, the dominant group in the area. Indeed, among the Fang, Macias' father is a man of particular renown. He's known as Santo Padre, saintly father. He's both a dispenser of medicine and a religious leader. It's rumored he once sacrificed his own son, Macias' brother, to the ancestors to strengthen his powers. Whether or not that's true, his reputation precedes him.

But this is a desperate moment for the Fang. Their ancient rural way of life is coming under attack. The Spanish have laid claim to "Spanish Guinea", as they call these territories, since the late 1700s. In that time they've kept mostly to the islands, but by the 1920s they've begun exploring and occupying mainland Riomuni, which means coming into contact with those who already live there. Oscar Scafidi is a travel writer, risk consultant, and international educator.

and the author of The Brat Guide to Equatorial Guinea. So Macias was born at a time of great upheaval for the Fang tribe in Equatorial Guinea's mainland. Basically, the Spanish had only just decided that they were going to extend their colonial control to the interior of this territory that they already had. So the Spanish had already been pretty well established on Bioco Island.

and they had some presence on the coast but not much. So it wasn't until about 1926 that they actually got an army together and decided we need to head into the jungle, into the interior and take control of this place. But the Fang are skilled fighters and not easily pushed aside. Bloody skirmishes break out as the tribal resistance coalesces. There are heavy losses on both sides, including for Macias' own family. At nine years old, he watches on as his father is beaten to a pulp by Spanish officials.

His supposed crime is unclear, perhaps just being a prominent fang. The beating is so severe that he dies from his injuries shortly after. Macias' mother is distraught. She takes her own life just a week later. As an orphan now, the raising of Macias falls to others. He spends the rest of his childhood under the auspices of the Spanish authorities and the Catholic Church. He takes on their religion and learns the Spanish language.

It's likely around this time that his name is Hispanicized. Paul Kenyon is a BAFTA-winning journalist for BBC Panorama and the author of Dictatorland: The Men Who Stole Africa.

When you look at Masayas's younger years, so little is written about it. I mean, so little is written about Equatorial Guinea in this era anyway. We have Masayas growing up in the Catholic Church, going to a Catholic school. There would have been an awful lot of rules and regulations and a lot of discipline. This incorporation into European customs and traditions is the result of family tragedy. But, as we shall see, it will give the young boy the inside track on the colonialists.

This will prove a crucial advantage in the years to come. Having established their authority on the mainland, the Spanish, keen to shore up their position, launch a series of infrastructure initiatives. Almost no one in the area spoke Spanish and the Spanish state had almost no interaction with your average Fang resident of the interior. So this is the context that Macias was born into.

Unfortunately, many of the Fang men, their first interaction with the Spanish was essentially being press ganged into forced labor groups. And if you misbehaved while you were working free of charge on these public works projects, you'd then be put on a boat and you'd be shipped over to Bioco Island where you'd be used as essentially indentured labor on some of the farms that the Spanish ran over there. So this is a very, very negative beginning of interactions between the Fang and the Spanish colonial authorities.

The colonial occupation of the mainland also sees the advent of a new legal framework. This creates different tiers of citizenship, relegating the local population to official second-class status. It put down in writing that the Equatoguineans couldn't purchase property, they weren't allowed to buy luxury goods, and the Spanish definition of what was luxury was pretty laughable by modern standards. So you were not allowed to buy things like olive oil or wheat bread as an Equatoguinean in the territory.

You weren't allowed alcohol, or at least you weren't allowed to buy Western bottled alcohol. You had no rights or legal status as a Spanish citizen. And sexual relations between Equetagoneans and Spanish citizens were completely forbidden. So this is not really a very good time to be living in Riomuni as a member of the Fang ethnic group. The school curriculum for those of Macias' background is extremely limited. One thing he does learn by rote...

is a series of chants and phrases that praise the ruling class. All children must imbibe these. His is a peculiar, half-baked education, one that instills obedience to the Spanish, while suppressing his own tribal heritage. But in a roundabout way, his school years actually put him right on the eventual path to success.

He wasn't very academic, but he knew that the pathway to success was to get himself into the civil service. So he tried again and again and again to pass this civil service exam. Finally, does pass it on fourth attempt, I think, in the 30s, becomes a court clerk. And then where he really hits the jackpot is when he becomes a Spanish to Fang language translator in one of the racial courts in Mongomo in 1951. Mongomo is a town in the jungle, straddling the border with neighboring Gabon.

It's an important seat of Spanish power. The market square is dominated by an impressive newly built church and a tall clock tower. The rest of the town is comprised of the wooden shacks that house the local population. Children play outside, hens peck at the dirt roads. The air is filled with the smell of plantain grilling. It's an odd blend of tribal and European elements, much like Macias himself, who's doing very well here. If we know little about Macias' upbringing,

detailed just as scarce about his private life. At one time or another he's got married to a woman probably called Maribel. She may or may not be half Spanish. Together they'll go on to have at least four children. Professionally, however, the picture is coming into focus at this time. His role as a translator in the local court has embedded him firmly within the establishment. So positioned, he can observe the machinery of colonial government up close.

and he's perfectly placed to capitalize should further career opportunities arise. Masaias was a very minor official during the Spanish colonial regime. He was actually so minor that he was just a translator at the local courtroom. And it doesn't sound like big shakes at all, but what happened was that he became quite an important figure to the local population. So they all rely on him because he can speak a second language.

He becomes somebody who you can rely on to represent you, who's going to not defend you, but give you a positive translation, if you like, in the face of the enemy, which is the Spanish colonialists. So there's Masayas shuffling into court each morning, helping people. And he suddenly realizes, of course, that actually this is something he can monetize.

So what he should be doing really is acting as an impartial translator. But what we know he was actually doing was being quite corrupt and he was essentially mistranslating between the two languages depending on whether he was receiving payments from the Spanish party or the Fang party or sometimes depending on whether he thought he needed to curry favor with the particular Spaniard involved or the particular Equator-Guinean involved.

The Spanish, they completely misinterpret this situation. All they see is groups of people flocking around him in the morning, everybody a huge amount of interest and excitement, almost a frenzy each morning around Macias. And they think this man is of some local standing. This man has some popularity. People listen to him when he speaks without realizing that the very reason that the locals had some interest in him was that he was essentially corrupt to the core, even at that very early stage.

In parallel to Macias' story thus far,

Another dictator to be, called Francisco, has been on a journey of his own. January 1939. The Spanish Civil War is in its final days after three years of bloody conflict. Tens of thousands have lost their lives in General Francisco Franco's battle to overthrow the Republicans. Barcelona, a Republican stronghold, has fallen to the Nationalists. Fires rage, windows shatter, the streets are lawless. Within days, Franco will have won.

He is about to take power in Spain and begin his own long dictatorship. But what bearing does this have on Macias' homeland, some 3,000 miles away? Barely six months after Franco assumes office, World War II breaks out in Europe. Needless to say, this brings extreme disruption to global trade, even phenomenally neutral Spain. So, to make up the shortfall in imports, the order goes out from Madrid to expand production in the colonies.

Spanish Guinea suddenly takes on a new economic importance. Production of coffee, timber, palm oil, copra, dried banana and rubber are all hugely increased. Later, in the aftermath of World War II, imperial powers across Europe find themselves under increasing pressure to relinquish control of their overseas territories. But with Spain's economy much more closely linked to Spanish Guinea now, Franco is not in the mood to hand it over to the locals just yet.

Instead, in an attempt to sate the demand for autonomy, he comes up with a fresh series of laws. These will grant varying degrees of emancipation to some Equatoguineans. Fortune shines on Macías. With his job as a court translator and his proficiency in Spanish, he's in pole position to benefit from this new improved status. Macías himself was desperate to be part of the emancipated class.

Everything he did in his early career implied that he loved Spanish colonialism. He thought Spain was amazing. He was desperate to learn the Spanish language. He looked down on members of the Fang ethnic group who did not learn Spanish.

Essentially, if you managed to tick all the boxes and become a fully emancipated Equetaguinean under Spanish rule, you would enjoy most of the same rights and privileges as a white Spanish citizen. So that meant you could get loans from the bank, you could buy and sell property, you could act as a witness in court. Finally, you could buy your delicious olive oil and wheat bread and alcohol. And you could even go to European bars to drink in Equatorial Guinea, although you still were not allowed to have sexual relations with white Spanish citizens in the territory.

But Franco's limited concession to the wind of change proves to have far-reaching unintended consequences. Instead of extinguishing calls for unconditional freedom, it fuels them. The emancipated peoples can aspire to better living standards. They're getting a taste for how the colonial classes have been living. Indigenous and tribal leaders across Spanish Guinea begin to voice a desire for total independence from Spain. Across Africa, through the 1960s and 70s,

A whole generation of politicians, both democratic and otherwise, will rise to power on waves of nationalism. Not so Macías. He is no nationalist, not yet. He's still quietly towing the line, playing the role of the biddable, trustworthy Spanish supporter to perfection. It's seeing him rise further and further up the ranks of the civil service. Soon he's appointed at the prestigious position of mayor of Mongomo.

When Spain joins the United Nations in 1955, further pressure is exerted on Franco to relinquish his colonies. At the same time, nationalist voices in Spanish Guinea are getting louder. El Codillo is still reluctant to concede ground. He's already made sure to silence the loudest voices, forcing many into exile. But Franco's got himself in a bit of a bind. In the Mediterranean, he's desperate to reclaim Gibraltar from the British.

His problem is that many of the arguments he's advancing in international forums involve criticizing British imperialism. This leaves him wide open to the charge of hypocrisy. If he wants the UK to even consider relinquishing the rock, he needs to get his own house in order. He's going to have to engage with nationalism in the colonies himself. Diplomatically, he must at least be seen to be moving Spain's remaining territories towards independence.

In time, this will all play perfectly into Macias' hands. The real turning point for Macias is that there was a referendum on the 15th of December 1963 on autonomy from Spain.

So essentially, the Spanish are seeing the writing on the wall at this stage. They are realizing that there's a lot of pressure from the UN. They're looking up at West Africa and North Africa, and they're seeing all of these countries getting independence. And they're thinking, right, we need to do a little bit more in terms of the carrot than just offering these people assimilated status. So what they decide to offer is autonomy. So they actually draw up a new sort of autonomous constitution and say, look, do you guys want to vote on this? And

And then that splits the nationalists completely with some nationalists saying, okay, fantastic, we're in support of this autonomy. And other nationalists saying, no, no, no, we recognize this for what it is. This is a bung to keep us quiet. We want full independence. And Macias finds himself on the correct side, rather opportunistically, of this political debate in December 1963. The new autonomous constitution is passed with Macias among its supporters.

The atmosphere in the colony is fraught in the days following the referendum. The people are divided, but the Spanish believe they have in Macias an ultra-loyal buffoon who will help them stave off any serious bids for independence down the line. Those phrases learned at school, when he and other pupils were forced to repeat slogans praising the Spanish, are coming in handy now. Macias has been parroting them to his bosses, presuming it's what they wanted to hear.

And it's worked. They've underestimated him terribly. Under the new autonomy plan, there's a provision for greater self-rule in domestic affairs. This means that locals can now apply for more senior positions in government. Macias has only recently become the mayor of Mongomo, but with his collaboration as pedigree, he's a natural candidate for a top role. In this recalibrated colony, there's an autonomous prime minister now,

A man called Bonifacio Ondo Edu Macias has appointed his deputy. The Spanish still call the shots, but he is now, on paper, the second most powerful Equatoguinean in the land. It's an extraordinary rise, from orphan to ward of the state, through multiple failures to join the civil service, then his time as a court interpreter, and now from mayor to deputy prime minister in less than a year.

Accounts from the time document Macias' interactions with his colleagues. They paint a picture of a man who is awkward and prickly, especially around more educated Africans and Europeans. He is, it seems, someone who is aware of his own intellectual shortcomings. In cabinet he clashes regularly with his prime minister, Edo. The Spanish interpret Macias' frustration as displays of passion for his country. To them, he is still a vital ally. Little do they know.

Macias is wrestling with substantial personal problems. He was always a somewhat sickly child. By this point, in his early forties, he has developed some significant health issues. His eyesight isn't great, his hearing is worse. He is prone to giving long, loud rambling speeches which veer between Spanish and his native Fang. These give rise to rumors about the state of his mental health, but they are not spoken aloud.

By 1967, after the successful experiment of the autonomous constitution, full independence is in the offing, just another referendum away. With the vote widely expected to pass, Macias travels to a conference in Madrid, part of a delegation that will create the founding laws for what will become known henceforth as Equatorial Guinea. It's here in the Spanish capital on November 3rd that he first reveals his fervent passion for Adolf Hitler.

"I consider Hitler to be the savior of Africa," he declares in a speech, then launches into a tirade befitting of his hero. Hitler had wanted to stop colonialism, not further it. He just got sidetracked by trying to take over Europe. The Fuhrer made mistakes, Macias says, but only because he was human. One might assume this would set alarm bells ringing, but if the Spanish are concerned, they're doing nothing about it. No one at the conference bats an eyelid.

Macias returns home to continue his political journey unchallenged. You would think after a speech like that, the Europeans who were there, representatives of European governments would say, "This is absolutely abhorrent. This man can't be allowed anywhere near power." The idea that this wasn't a very early indicator and alarm as to where he might go later seems ridiculous now. This is the first brick in the wall of silence that will surround Macias.

shielding him from scrutiny throughout his time in power. Out of sight, out of mind, in Africa, he'll be left almost entirely to his own devices. They knew at some stage that he was at the very least not a particularly bright individual and at the very worst somebody who had pretty disturbing views, but he was still controllable.

And perhaps what they didn't really want was an individual who was a genuine independence fighter who would really take on the Spanish. And perhaps they thought the Masai was somebody that once they could puppeteer, that they could continue dabbling in the affairs of Equatorial Guinea, not fully pull out as the Belgians didn't fully pull out of Congo, and that there would be something left for them there. On August 11th, 1968,

The long-awaited independence referendum is held. Nearly 65% vote in favour of removing their Spanish rulers. All that's left to do now is to choose Equatorial Guinea's first president. Macias duly puts him so forward as one of the candidates, though few expect him to win. There are more esteemed independence fighters whose hats are in the ring, but their problem is their lack of support from Spain.

Even if Franco is taking his hand off the tiller, Madrid still intends to retain an ally in power. And they still have cards to play. We have a lot of far more prominent Ecuadorian who you would have expected would perhaps end up as the first president, or at least would have had a more prominent role in the post-independence history of Ecuador-Guinea.

Unfortunately, the Spanish had quite an effective strategy of divide and rule. So they deliberately sowed dissent amongst the different ethnic groups in Equatorial Guinea to make sure they didn't kind of unify behind one independence leader and cause them real problems. And the actual Equatorian themselves, as in a lot of cases, they actually coalesced around ethnically based political parties, which made it very easy for the Spanish to then kind of pick them off by supporting some and not others.

This presidential election will be broadcast on television. The Spanish set up transmitters and hand out free TV sets to be placed in public areas, so the people can all see the candidates speak for themselves. This is another stroke of luck for Macias. He proves to be a natural on-screen talent. His hypnotic monologues, delivered in Spanish and Fang, are extremely well received.

Television played pretty well actually for Masayoshi. He looked presentable, he looked like a young fashionable dude. I mean, you know, he had a wedge haircut, he had a skinny tie and skinny suit on, and he sort of looked the part like a 1960s rock star or mod if you like. So it played well for him. It also played well for him because he realised that he could use this medium to reach huge amounts of people very quickly as opposed to just the limited amount he would have met with a normal walk around.

And so he made these speeches which, in hindsight, you would say were sort of wild ramblings. But at the time, some people would say they were sort of fearless, sort of wildly charming individual who was able to make promises on the hoof, who could speak off the top of his head. Macias's oratory, full of unchecked passion and promise, is beamed across the nation, while the performance is all his doing.

The speeches are not. They are in fact being written for him by a Spanish lawyer, a man called Garcia Trevijano. He essentially paid a Spanish lawyer to write all his speeches. So he had a pretty coherent policy platform that he presented in his speeches because it was all put together by somebody else. And a lot of it was very, very populist. There was no way he could have kept a lot of the outrageous promises he made on the campaign trail in 1968.

Flitting between his two tongues, Macias is able to escape proper scrutiny, tailoring his message to Spanish and Equatoguinean audiences, giving everyone what they want: a trustworthy friend of Madrid, Czech, but also for the first time and increasingly, a fervent, even violent nationalist.

He had a series of stunts, if you like, which were very easy for people to understand when it came to being against the Spanish. So he would, he cut to the chase. He didn't bother with lots of political jargon. He would stand in front of a crowd whilst being televised, point to a bungalow where one of the Spanish officials had lived, and he would say, "See that house over there? You can have that house. Do you see that house over there? That other Spanish house over there? You can have it. I will give you all the properties from the colonial regime."

Francisco Macias Nguema wins 68% of the popular vote. On October 12, 1968, he's sworn in as president, which is how a Fang orphan from rural Riomuni came to power in newly independent Equatorial Guinea. How he goes on to destroy it is another story. The country Macias inherits is pretty stable. Its economy is relatively healthy. His rule starts out quite positively.

He offers senior roles in his cabinet to some of his opponents from the presidential campaign. He continues his collaborative relationship with the former colonial power, but if the Spanish think he'll gift them rule by proxy, then they are sorely mistaken. "Franco commands in Spain, and I command here," Macias makes clear shortly after his victory at the ballot box.

It's still not entirely clear whether things were always going to go wrong under Macias or whether there was some sort of moment that changed his mind about how he was going to run Equatorial Guinea.

whatever the case, things started going wrong almost immediately. So, you know, he's in charge. 12th of October 1968, Macias actually begins on a slightly positive note. He actually gives his rival, Atanasio Miano, the position of foreign minister. He gives his other rival, Edmundo Dioco, the vice president spot. That all looks good. That's actually quite surprising to the few foreign commentators who actually took an interest in this newly independent country.

However, a few months later, March 1969, Macias thinks that a coup was attempted against him. And in particular, he thinks that Miono, his foreign minister, tried to organize this coup and he thought that he did it with Spanish complicity. And this is really, really important. So he thinks that the Spaniards were out to get rid of him and wanted to replace him with a more pliant president. Already paranoid that the Spanish are trying to oust him, Macias promptly turns his wrath on them

In a series of escalating speeches, he demands the removal of all Spanish flags from the country. When this doesn't happen, he orders those flags to be torn down. Gangs of teenagers take to the streets to do his bidding. On February 27, 1969, the president makes another infamous address, this time on state radio. Brandishing a copy of Mein Kampf, Macías decrees, Kill the whites, rape the women. You have the right to the loot.

the death penalty for whoever helps the whites. We are at war against Spanish imperialism. The touch paper is lit. On the 27th, Macias's foreign minister, Meone, finds himself cornered in his cabinet office, surrounded by the president's men. He had called in Spanish National Guardsmen to protect him, but they fled, leaving him to face the music alone. Minutes later, Meone falls from the cabinet office window.

Macias will later claim this was an act of attempted suicide. Eyewitnesses will suggest Meone's legs were already broken before he fell. Others will add that he was shot. In any case, the official line from the government is that Meone has been taken to hospital after trying to kill himself. He will never be seen again. It's the culmination of what will be known as Equatorial Guinea's Night of the Long Knives. It marks the moment that the newly independent nation is purged of Spanish influence.

and falls squarely under the control of President Macías Mgwema. So on the 5th of March, he essentially declares that he is assuming absolute power because of course he has to in order to protect the nation from this threat. On the 22nd of March, he decides he's going to kick out all the Spanish from Equatorial Guinea. So there's over 7,000 Spaniards in the country at this time, most of them on Bioko Island involved in the plantations.

By March 25th, Madrid has begun evacuating its remaining civil servants. On Bioko, the harbor is a hive of activity as those fleeing clamber aboard hurriedly prepared ships. Just four days later, there are only 80 or so Spanish people left in Riomune, and it's not just Europeans looking for a way out. Equatoguineans themselves will soon begin fleeing in considerable numbers.

There was a mass evacuation and almost all of the Spaniards in Equatorial Guinea left. Along with the Spaniards went a lot of the Brits and the Americans who were at the time were working for Mobil Oil. So they were prospecting for oil. There was a suspicion that Equatorial Guinea had offshore oil, but at this time they didn't know that. So there were actually oil companies working there. They all cleared out as well because they didn't think it was safe. I mean, they were right. It absolutely wasn't safe for them.

As Equatorial Guinea's economy stutters, wages are withheld from workers, plantations are abandoned, businesses are shuttered, telecommunications are closed down and television is wound up. Macias chooses this moment to declare that the 1968 constitution is deeply flawed. No mention that he'd help to usher it in. There's too much Spanish rule ingrained in it for his liking. It's time to put his own constitution in place.

And to do that, he needs to ensure that no other political party or leader can impose to challenge him. On the 2nd of February 1970, he decides the country is going to be a single party state. So he kind of creates the Partido Único Nacional de los Trabajadores, the PUNT, or PUNT. And then he creates a youth militant wing as well, Youth on the March with Macias, who are deliberately modelled on the Hitler Youth.

The JMM were, some of them were barely out of their teens. In fact, some of them were teenagers. And these are groups of young men who were utterly loyal to Messiahs. They're individuals who would have been probably out of work with no official positions when it came to the previous colonial regime. So looking for revenge on anybody they thought had put them and their families in positions where they weren't able to earn. This was their time.

Masaias was the man who was their leader, who they would do anything for, and they were there to redress the balance. They were there to punish anybody who'd put them in a position of poverty in the first place.

The British ambassador said something along the lines of, "What I'm leaving is a place that is right on the edge of absolute chaos," or something similar. And had seen people being killed on the street, and had seen the country closed down. Shops closed, factories closed, everybody staying in their homes, nobody daring go anywhere. And the streets full of these marauding gangs that were hired by Masayas to go and hunt down anybody with the slightest suspicion of having something Spanish in their home.

He offered rewards and civil service positions to people who could find any trace or any hint or anything at all about individuals who might still support the Spanish. And obviously, in that kind of situation, people would then start concocting things or be hypersensitive about any conversation they heard that might involve some reference to the Spanish in a positive light.

And he got to the point where there was one individual I've met and interviewed whose father was arrested at home because the security services raided the house. They came in and they saw his mother cooking with Serrano ham and Spanish olives.

Now, it sounds darkly comical, but I mean, imagine being in a position where you're just innocently making a meal that you've traditionally made for your family. In come a bunch of thugs. They find this. This is enough for him to end up in a road gang. So he's arrested, sent to court, ends up in a road gang, building roads and kept in chains, and eventually ends up going to prison for the very same offense where he's beaten to death.

So the sentence in the end or the consequence of using Spanish-based products just in cooking is being beaten to death in prison. Despite the evacuation of the Spanish and the purging of his rivals, despite the violence spilling onto the streets, Macias is still deeply paranoid that faceless enemies are out to get him. It's widely known that he's an habitual drug user. Like many Fang men of this time, he enjoys a local strain of cannabis.

and he also regularly imbibes a powerful hallucinogenic draft called iboga. The precise impact of these substances on his mental health and his behavior is impossible to know so long after the fact, but that Macias himself perceived that he had mental health issues is clear.

In both 1968 and 1969, he'd visited psychiatrists in Madrid and Barcelona for undisclosed mental health issues. So we know that even before he was in charge of the country, he was having some sort of problem. And then being in power, isolating himself, taking all of these hallucinogenic drugs appear to have just exacerbated that further until obviously by the 70s, he really isn't fully in control of his mental faculties.

So I think his paranoia arising from potentially hallucinogenic potions that he was drinking is something that is not just a good story and a good anecdote, it's something that really began to bend the way that he governed his country. And that level of paranoia does lead you obviously to the point where you're indiscriminately killing people. Under the new regime, torture and execution are now commonplace.

Innuendo and rumor are enough to land you in the hands of the JMM. Whole villages are destroyed in the hunt for single alleged detractors. In the capital city, Santa Isabel, stands the stained, yellow building of Black Beach Prison. Its cells are soon overflowing with those accused of opposing the president. Their screams ring out in the dead of night, while the rest of the capital lies still.

If you ended up in Black Beach Prison, which is the notorious prison on Bioko Island, which is still there today, if you ended up there, sometimes they didn't even have the money for bullets to execute you, so that you just beat people to death with iron bars, or they'd bury you up to your head and leave you to just die because of exposure. Things get even worse for the people when Macias puts his youth militia in charge of the courts too.

So these were the people who would decide who the judges were and make sure that they were in support of their organization, Youth Marching for Masias. And they would decide who the prosecutor and who the defense in courtrooms would be. And of course, they would decide who the defendants were. So they oversaw the courtrooms. And you imagine that you're in a situation in some small courtroom in Equatorial Guinea where whether you're the prosecutor or defense, if you say anything,

at that moment that is seen as anti the regime or pro these defendants, you yourself will be the next in court, which did happen. So there is no defense that you can put up. I mean, it is such unimaginable sort of dark comedy again, that you end up with defenders who in the end, sometimes would end up instead of defending their client, they would end up asking for the death penalty for their client.

So you go in there thinking it's a pretty weak case against you, at least you've got some defense counsel. The defense counsel ends up asking for a bigger punishment than the prosecutor. Where do you turn at that point? Hundreds of people at the time are made to attend mass kangaroo courts. The crowds are forced to watch the immediate public executions. Which brings us back to Christmas Eve 1969 and the scene that opened this episode. At the National Football Stadium in the capital,

Over 150 of Macias' alleged adversaries are let out along the halfway line. And as the mass slaughter begins, the Mary Hopkins hit, "Those were the days, my friend," echoes out over the loudspeakers.

And in the middle of this stadium, all the people who are going to be executed were all lined up and across the tannoy ended up coming out the song, "Those were the days, those were the days, my friend." And you can see that or you can imagine it playing out through these sort of squeaky old 1960s tannoy systems

across the football pitch as these people were executed in front of a crowd, many of whom I would hope were just standing there in absolute disbelief as to what was going on. I can't imagine there were many cheers, but what a spectacle. My understanding is, Masai was there, so he did take some kind of delight in this spectacle of mass executions with music. Somehow found it entertaining. But all of this is only the beginning.

Which imagined foe would the President alight on next? In the next episode, in the second and final part of the Messias story, educated Equatoguineans come under attack as a bizarre vendetta is pursued against teachers, lawyers, and doctors. Things take a turn for the metaphysical as Messias declares himself God. And finally, as paranoia completely overwhelms them, his inner circle will take matters into their own hands.

That's next time.