Real Dictators - Jean-Bédel Bokassa Part 3: A Coronation for the Ages

Episode Date: December 31, 2025

The new emperor of the Central African Republic is introduced to the world in a totally surreal manner - with white horses from Belgium, finery from France and songs from a Broadway musical. The CAR��s finances continue to tumble. A controversial policy about school uniforms leads to one of the most tragic episodes in the country’s history. And as the emperor loses control, old friends become foes, old foes return from the dead, and Bokassa’s day of judgement is at hand… A Noiser podcast production. Narrated by Paul McGann. Featuring Louisa Lombard, Richard Moncrieff, Gino Vlavonou. This is Part 3 of 3. Written by John Bartlett | Produced by Ed Baranski and Edward White | Exec produced by Joel Duddell | Fact check by Heléna Lewis | Sound supervisor: Tom Pink | Sound design & audio editing by George Tapp | Assembly editing by Dorry Macaulay, Rob Plummer, Anisha Deva | Compositions by Oliver Baines, Dorry Macaulay, Tom Pink | Mix & mastering: Cian Ryan-Morgan | Recording engineer: Joseph McGann. Real Dictators will be back in the new year with the story of Marshal Tito. Get early access and ad-free listening by joining Noiser+. Click the subscription banner or go to noiser.com/subscriptions Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's October the 23rd, 1986. In the dim light of the early morning, a plane swoops down to land at Bangi Airport in the Central African Republic. With a couple of quick bumps, the aircraft comes to a halt on the runway. On board, passengers unfasten their seatbelts, gather their belongings, and shift their way towards the exit. Among them is a man in his 60s. Ostensibly he is unremarkable. Inconspicuous, in a dark suit, the brim of his hat shielding his eyes from view. The Central African Republic is his homeland, though it's been many years since he was last here.

Once off the plane, the passengers trapes inside the terminal building. There they wait to reclaim their luggage. luggage. The man in the hat glances around him, scanning the faces of his fellow travellers. As he does so, he notices several pairs of eyes staring directly back at him. Despite his low-key demeanour, he's attracting attention. But then how could he not? He is the most famous and infamous person in the short troubled history of this country. More and more people in the crowd recognize who he is. Then somebody says it aloud.

It's Boccasa. No one can quite believe it. Jean-Bedele-Bocasa, the man who once ruled this land, hasn't set foot inside the CAR for seven years, having been turfed out by a coup. Ever since, he's been living abroad in luxurious but embittered exile. In his absence, Bacassar has been found guilty of heinous crimes against his own people, for which he faces the death penalty. For that reason, it's been assumed he would never dare to return.

But here he is. Unmistakably, a lone, aging man stood in an airport, waiting for his suitcase. Technically, he's public enemy number one, the most notorious criminal in the nation's history. yet as his identity is revealed something extraordinary happens the people around him begin to shout his name not in anger but in joy he's come home they say the boss is back Boccasa beams with delight it's vindication proof of what he's always thought the people love him And it's his destiny to rule over them. Maybe the impossible is within his reach, the chance to defeat his enemies and reclaim his throne. Jean Bedel-Bocasa, the once and future emperor.

From the Noiser podcast network, this is the final part of the Boccasa story. And this is real dictators. Let's wind the clock's back, a decade. At the end of our last episode, we left Bacasa in December, 1976, just after the stunning announcement that he's turning the Central African Republic into the Central African Empire. Now, a year on, he's keen to emulate his hero, Napoleon Bonaparte, and elevate himself to the status of emperor.

Despite his nation's ailing economy, Bacasa envisions an expensive, elaborate ceremony in the CAR's capital city. His preference is to stage at Bangy's own Notre Dame Cathedral, and for it to be officiated by Pope Paul VI. The Vatican quickly rebuffs them. It will have to be Plan B, the city's multi-purpose sports stadium,

The man chosen to bring the ceremony to life is French sculptor Olivia Brees. Breeze builds a special workshop near his home in Normandy, where 30 craftsmen execute his design for an enormous throne. They also set about constructing a carriage and the appropriate accoutrement. He purchases an antique coach in Nice and refurbishes it with velvet, gold trim and eagle symbols. He finds eight elegant white horses in Belgium to pull it, as well as a few dozen Normandy greys for the imperial escort. To ensure everything goes to plan, a troop of Central African soldiers spend the summer in the countryside of northern France, learning equestrian skills.

On visits to Bengi, Breeze busies himself decorating the stadium with tapestries, curtains and banners in the national colours, blue, white, green, yellow. and red. The costs mount at breakneck speed. Swathes of the country may be in terrible poverty, but Boccasa needs a coronation fit for an emperor.

Damn the expense. Dr. Gino Vlabano For the coronation to succeed and be as impressive as Bocasa wanted, relied on many items that he couldn't find in the

Central Africa over Park Creek. And some of these items, he had to import them literally from France. Dr. Louisa Lombard. The coronation was an amazing blend of all the kind of regal symbolism and pageantry that Bocasa saw as important and worthy. And it involved white horses. You know, this is a kind of regal imagery that we would. maybe associate with Europe and European royalty, and similarly some of these capes that included ermine and furs,

which are definitely not appropriate to the climate of the Central African Republic, but are part of the kind of image that I think Bocasa had of what a true leader looks like. The heat is oppressive in Bangi, as guests begin to descend on the empire of her. the occasion. Unprepared for the humidity, two of the white horses from Europe keel over and die before the coronation. The big day arrives on December 4, 1977.

Early in the morning, 60 brand-new Mercedes-Benz limousines, ferry guests along the Bangy Boulevard to the coronation venue. By half-past eight, all four thousand. are in situ, entertained by tinny music piped into the sports stadium over a tannoy system. On a raised platform at one end of the stadium, before a sea of blazing red curtains, stands the throne designed by breeze. It's quite the sight. A velvet seat surrounded by a giant golden eagle, its shining wings three and a half metres wide. To the right is a slightly smaller throne reserved for Picasso's wife, soon to be the Empress Catherine. On its left is a

stool of gold-trimmed, crimson velvet for the crown prince, Picasso's four-year-old son, Jean-Bedel Jr. Just after 10 a.m., a marching band is heard in the distance, playing a specially composed imperial march. Two guards dressed in Napoleonic military uniforms bearing the national flag an imperial standard, make their way up the carpeted aisle. They are followed by the preschool heir apparent, Prince Chambedel, in a white naval uniform. The boy's visored cap is far too big for his little head, slipping this way and that. He looks around, bemused. Next is the Empress Catherine in her shimmering dress of gold lame, dotted with 935,000 sequins, sporting a gold, laurel wreath on her head. Then the emperor himself strides into the stadium. He wears an ankle-length

toga-style garment, decorated with hundreds of thousands of grey and white pearls. There are pearls on his slippers as well, on his hands, white antelope-skin gloves, and, like Catherine, a golden laurel wreath rests on his head. Two of his favourite medals, proudly displayed on his chest, glint in the rising sun. A sword is then handed to him, as is a scepter, encrusted with gemstones. A whopping 30-foot-long velvet and ermine mantle is placed with some difficulty around his shoulders. Finally, Bacasa removes his wreath and plants a heavy gold crown on his own head. A 21-gun salute rattles the windows of the stadium, and the audience applauds applauds, politely. There is no evident enthusiasm nor spontaneous outbursts of Vive L'Ompereur

as Picasso might have hoped. When the guests file out of the stadium, an orchestra entertains them not with traditional local music, but La Cougaracha and songs from the musical Jesus Christ's superstar. More than anything, the coronation has been an exercise in opulence and excess. The throne and golden eagle atop it cost two and a half million dollars. The emperor's costume, designed by the 200-year-old firm which had embroidered Napoleon's uniforms, comes to $145,000. The total jewelry bill is $5 million. More than 240 tons of food and drink have flown in from Europe for the post-coronation banquet at the Presidential Palace. 40,000 bottles of wine, plus caballar, crayfish, sturgeon, antelope and foie gras.

Shiva's regal whiskey, Bacassas' favorite, is in plentiful supply. He was just projecting power. He was projecting obedience. He was projecting stress. and he was also putting the country on the maps for his coronation. People in Bangi were kind of in awe of what was in front of them, but they couldn't really be against what was happening. It's estimated that the total cost of the coronation comes in somewhere in the region of $25 million. A staggering outlay, considering that the majority of the Empire citizens surviving, on less than $1 a day.

But, intriguingly, it's actually France who pays for most of it, keen to ensure that Boccasa cuts ties with Libyan leader Colonel Wama Gaddafi and keen to secure Central African uranium deposits for itself. South Korea, desperate for diplomatic support in its bitter rivalry with the communists to the north, sends a $50,000 cash donation. The Empire's private companies are all pressured to make appropriate donations, knowing that their future depends on it. International press reports are bemused, sarcastic, or disapproving. Le Monde describes a tragicomic, surrealist spectacle, a caricature of French colonization and history.

In London, the Sunday Times awards Bacasa an Oscar for bad taste. It's no different in Africa. Kenya's Sunday Nation calls the coronation Bacassas clowning glory. But for all the undeniable oddness and egocentrism, the coronation can also be seen as a response to the immense challenges that central Africans face in a post-colonial world. It's actually kind of a shame that the view, view that we have of the event is almost entirely French. It was one of these few moments where

Central Africans got to shine on the international scene, but not necessarily for all the good reasons, because it was also obvious that this country was trying to, I guess, begin its development, but nothing that's substantial to show for it. So the coronation was kind of covering it off kind of masquerading this. Richard Moncrief. This very strange ceremony does represent some of the dilemmas and difficulties of nation building with almost no material to build a nation with, and therefore over-relying on symbols because you lack the material means to build the institutions

that comprise modern countries. Monarchical or imperial power is a kind of shortcut to confirming their power. In a way, it's no more fanciful to pronounce yourself the emperor of Central African Republic than it is to pronounce yourself the elected head of Central African Republic. In a way, they're both rather fanciful ideas in the end because the country has a short, unstable history, so there's very little more solid to rely on. Despite invitations, almost no foreign leaders attend the event. The only aristocrat to accept is Prince Emmanuel of Liechtenstein. The Prime Minister of Mauritius is the most prominent politician who attends.

Even French president Valéry Gisgastain, the emperor's hunting body, gives the coronation a mess. This December, on the Noiser Podcast Network, it's a busy month with the launch of a brand new show. Join Sir David Soucher for Charles Dickens' Ghost Stories, a selection of Dickens' most spine-tingling tales. In Jane Austen stories, Pride and Prejudice. When all said and done, will pride get in the way of true love? Short history of Texas onto the historic canals of Venice and beyond the courtrooms of the Nuremberg trials. On real survival stories, we'll follow an emergency chopper as it goes down in the Labrador Sea and traverse the mountain bike trails of Patagonia.

In Sherlock Holmes short stories, Holmes unpicks a mysterious string of sculpture-related crimes in The Adventure of the Six Napoleons. And Real Dictators returns with the extraordinary story of Jean Bedel-Bocasa. Get all of these shows and more early and ad-free on Noisa Plus. And if you're still on the hunt for Christmas presents, then why not grab a copy of A Short History of Ancient Rome, available in all good bookshops? Nevertheless, Jean-Bedel Boccasa, or His Imperial Majesty Bacassi,

Apostle of Peace and Servant of Jesus Christ, Emperor and Marshal of Central Africa, as he is now known. is buoyant. He claims that creating an imperial monarchy will help Central Africa stand out from the rest of the continent. But the shift from Republic to Empire makes little difference to most Central Africans, struggling to make ends meet. Indeed, the imperial economy is in rapid decline. Diamond, coffee and cotton production is falling precipitously, and the national debt stands at around $280 million, about five years of national revenue. Spirling inflation is hitting incomes, and civil servants have not been paid for months.

The financial consequences of his economic mismanagement started to be felt in these very essential pocketbook ways by many, many Central Africans, and particularly by young Central Africans who had perhaps come up in the era that he had created of having a sense that there was some future for them in the country. People did not have much scope for protest. One of the things that he did was build up the military and kind of security services, particularly the ones who were his close guard. And protest was not part of the picture of this beautiful Central African dream that he was trying to build. The spectacle of the coronation might suggest that Picasso's grip on power is secure. Yet, there are those who challenge

his supremacy, not figures within the military or any established political faction, but school children. Over more than a decade in power, Picasso has sponsored the establishment of a number of secondary schools and founded the country's first university in Bangi. Throughout the 1970s, there have been only occasional strikes and uprisings among the student body. But in 1977, the Emperor expresses dissatisfaction with the nation's secondary school exam results, which he attributes to laziness and a lack of discipline. His solution is to introduce a universal school uniform. During visits to China and other communist states,

Bacasa has been impressed by the discipline and attire of parading schoolchildren, something which he believes holds the key to raising standards in Central African education. So on February 2nd, 1978, the Education Ministry makes a sudden announcement. As of October 1st, uniforms will be required for all primary and secondary students in the empire. Girls are to wear navy dresses and boys dark blue trousers with light. blue short-sleeved shirts. Those failing to abide by the new dress code will be excluded from class. The announcement neglects to mention that the uniforms will be manufactured by a company run by one of Bacassas's wives, and they will be sold in shops belonging to the emperor

himself. Thus, Baccarso will reform the school system and turn a profit at the same time. For many Central Africans, the scheme is intolerable. During the 1970s, as the Central African economy was dwindling, Bocasa was living more and more lavishly, and he was passing on the costs to Central Africans. Most Central Africans, both then and now, feed themselves to a large extent from crops that they grow themselves. So in that respect, they have a lot of challenges to deal with, but rising prices are a little bit less important because they're not buying all of their food.

Some of it they are growing at least. But when it comes to things like school fees and school uniforms, those are costs that all Central Africans who dream of a future for their children, well, they're going to have to pay those school fees and going to have to pay for those school uniforms. and the prices of these school uniforms became exorbitant during this time. Piles of uniforms lie unpurchased in Picasso's shops. When the schools reopen for a new term, only a small minority wear the attire decreed by their emperor. Nothing much happens until a couple of months later in January 1979, when secondary schools in Bangi suddenly refuse admission to students who are not in uniform.

The protests begin. School pupils are joined by university students and a mass demonstration is arranged. On the 19th of January, 1979, 3,000 students of all ages gather at the university in Bangi. Megaphones, blare and chanted slogans fill the air. At 10 a.m., the demonstrators arrive at the presidential power. Lining up face to face with a menacing cordon of soldiers. Things get tense. The inexperienced guards begin to break up the demonstration with batons.

Students scatter out into the city, smashing the windows of offices and shops, including the Emperor's clothing store. By 11.30 a.m., the police and military have restored order downtown, but the suburbs are a different story. There, students are joined by disaffected workers. The atmosphere is febrile. Cars are overturned and tree trunks laid out as barricades. At his palace in Borengo, Boccasa is incensed.

He sends his elite imperial guard into action, airlifting 135 men to the capital, heavily armed with Kalashnikov assault rifles. The emperor himself dons combat. gear and drives to the front line to take command. At midnight, Bacasa addresses the nation on the radio, calling for the return of peace. But it's not until the following afternoon that Bangi is back under control. A day later, the school uniform regulation is quietly dropped. The government admits that six people have died and 60 injured in the fighting.

It's likely those numbers are far higher. Crucially, the French government still backs Boccasa. But among the people, the bloody reprisals are not easily forgotten. When schools and colleges reopen, many teachers and professors refuse to attend, leading to further strikes, arrests and boycotts. Pacing the marble halls of his imperial court, Bucasa resolves to act decisively. Arrests will be carried out, examples made. punishments administered, a strongman's response. A dragnet is pulled through the local schools,

and by the morning of April the 18th, the police stations of Bangi are stuffed with prisoners. Many are sent to the feared Ungaragba prison. Garagba is like the prison in the Central African Republic, and it continues to be a place that elicits a shudder because it is terribly under-resourced, decrepit. It was built for about 350 prisoners and has frequently throughout its history housed more than 2,000. So it's really quite a bleak place. It's April the 18th, 1979. 18-year-old student, Simon Judi, is being pushed up the corner.

concrete steps in one of the wings of Mungaragba. Earlier today, he was swept up by the Imperial Guard along with dozens of others. The students were stripped naked, forced to lie on the ground and beaten by the guards. Now Simon and around 40 other detainees are crammed into a tiny windowless cell. There's barely any room to move. Some are struggling to breathe. According to Simon, at around 10 p.m., a familiar gruff voice echoes down the corridor. It's Emperor Boccasa himself, and he's in a rare fury.

He growls of the terrified youths, now I will teach you a lesson. The cell's steel door is forced open. Simon, whose arm is already broken, watches on in horror as Bacasa begins thrott. the students in front of him with his ivory-encrusted cane. The Emperor kills several young boys by striking them viciously on the back of the skull. Simon can do no more than lay still, playing dead. Finally, Boccaccaza leaves. Simone listens, his heart pounding, the screams emanate from the other cells down the corridor.

At 5.30 in the morning, when the cell doors are opened, Many of the students are dead, suffocated in the crush or succumbing to the beatings. The remaining inmates at the prison load the bodies onto a truck to be taken away for secret burial. Throughout the morning, parents turn up at the presidential palace, demanding to know the whereabouts of their children. But government representatives feign ignorance. In the wake of the protests and violence, Emperor Bocasa declares a national day of peace. But reports of the Ungaragba massacre fly around the world. On May the 14th, Amnesty International releases a report, which includes sickening testimonies of the abuses.

It's particularly embarrassing to Baccairsa's champion, French president Valéry Giscardistan. Under pressure from France, Bacassar, agrees to co-oper. operate fully with a five-nation African commission that is set up to ascertain the truth. The investigators find terror to be widespread in the empire. Often they must interview witnesses secretly in bars and backstreets beyond the reach of Bacasa's agents. There were quite a lot of stories of Bocasa being personally involved in the physical punishment of people who were being held. The most lurid of these involved charges like cannibalism, that he had a refrigerator or a freezer that was full of human flesh

from the people he had executed, that he had crocodiles that were at the ready to dispose of the bodies of people who he had killed or who he wanted to get rid of. The emperor is beset by problems. The repression of his regime is under increasing scrutiny. The coffers are empty, and his subjects are far from supportive. Then, the defections begin. Bacca's cousin David Darko, whom he ousted as president in his coup d'etat, and who served as a

reluctant advisor since the end of 1976, escapes to France. The empire's ambassador in Paris resigns, citing Bacassas' personal involvement in the violence at Dengaragba. The French government send word that the game is up. The forthcoming report will implicate him directly in the massacre. It's time for the emperor to step aside. An indignant Picasso responds that Central African affairs are no longer controlled by foreign powers.

He won't be going anywhere. This whole France-Afric dynamic where they could say, oh, Central African Republic It's part of our former colony where we still exercise power and control. We were starting seeing cracks in that system. The French, I think, realized that they couldn't predict the next move of Bocasa. Bocasa is not someone that we think we can entirely control. Two weeks later, the 133-page report is released. The commission has managed to gather photographs, testimonies, death certificates, and a list

of those killed by the security forces. It estimates that at least 150 people of all ages die in the January troubles. Three witnesses say Bukasah personally joined in the maiming and killing at Ungaragba in April. According to the report, of the 250 students detained, between 50 and 200 died. Boccasa is now a serious liability to President Giscar. The French media label the Emperor as the butcher of Bangi, pressurizing their government to withdraw support. With Bacasa refusing to leave power voluntarily,

the French began to plot his overthrow. Giscar and his advisors decide to reinstall the former President David Daco. now exiled in France. The trouble is Daco is weak, nervous and in poor health. Even as president, he never inspired confidence as a leader. But French officials visit him regularly to flatter him into agreeing to come to his country's aid. And eventually he concedes. Daco says he wasn't too sure if he would go back to power, but at the same time he did not want Bocasa to continue on his trajectory. So something needed to be done.

It's not just French colonialism, it's also a little bit of a sense of responsibility as well. Now, was this also beneficial to them as they saw it? Well, yes, but they sort of saw it more as a doubly beneficial kind of move to remove Bocasa from power and put in place someone who would be more reasonable, which also meant somebody who would be more amenable

to taking direction and advice from the French. Daco is moved into an apartment just of the Chancesilese and told to await further instructions. Then an opportunity presents itself. In September, Boccasa flies to Libya for talks with his old pal, Colonel Gaddafi. With the emperor away from Central Africa,

it's the perfect time to launch Operation Barracuda, the overthrow of Bacasa. Events unfold rapidly. In Paris, a grey citron pulls up opposite Daco's apartment, and an agent steps out of the vehicle. A trembling Daco is taken to a nearby airbase and flown down to the Spanish border, where two airplanes are ready to take off.

Already on board are France's finest special operations forces. The paratroopers play cards and study maps of Bangi, as Daco, Ashenfaced, sits silently in a corner of the cockpit. The planes touch down at Bangi Airport in the dead of night. Minutes later, the paratroopers are in the terminal building. The astonished night guards put up no resistance. With the airport secured, the French special forces climb into armored vehicles and head out. into the night to discreetly occupy strategic locations across the city. Darko remains at the airport, fidgeting and asking questions about the progress of the mission.

His mind has ignored him. Finally, word comes through that the Central African soldiers have surrendered. Bangi has been taken. Darko is driven to the radio station. At ten minutes to midnight, he announces that the rain of Boccasa is over. In less than an hour, the Central African Empire has fallen without a shot fired in its defense. At 2.30 a.m., a bleary-eyed Boccasa is roused in his Libyan hotel room.

He's informed about reports of a coup in Bangi, supported by the French. flabbergasted. Bacasa asks to see Gaddafi, but the Libyan leader can't be reached. The ousted emperor Muls his options. He cannot possibly return to Bangi. There's only one thing for it. He must go to France and hole up in one of his several chateau. The irony is deep and strange. Bacasa is fleeing to the old colonial power, in whose army he served decades and who propped up his regime. Yet it is France that is also now responsible for his downfall. Although everything has gone to plan so far for the French, Boccasse's sudden arrival in their airspace is a spanner in the works. As the Imperial plane approaches Orly

airport, permission to land is denied. The pilot heads for another airfield, but the But the message is the same there, too. Dismayed, Boccasa threatens air traffic controllers that he will land the jet on a highway. Several panicked phone calls later. Permission to land is granted at Ebrua military base west of Paris. Armed soldiers immediately surround the aircraft. Nobody can disembark. The mood is tense.

President Gisker is desperate not to accept his former friend in France. France. Boccasa is too much of a liability. French diplomatic staff begin to offer the unwanted guest around. Argentina, Brazil, Mexico, and several African countries are approached, but all refuse. Finally, there's a taker. President Felix Uffert Wani of the Ivory Coast has agreed to take in the former emperor as an act of, quote, Christian charity. Once Bocasa was removed, his stock was pretty low, but he was not completely without friends. And I think other African leaders, even those who thought that he had gone too far, felt like, no, they have to look out for their own at least a little bit.

And that was part of why he was able to stay in Ivory Coast. By midday, Bacasa is settling into his new home, a spacious mansion overlooking the wealthiest suburb of the Ivory Coast's capital city, Abidjan. Back in Bangi, Ocasa's empire is being stripped for parts. Gangs of youths roam the city, jubilantly tearing down the numerous statues of the emperor. They find the imperial throne and rip out its velvet upholstery. The imperial carriage is pulled through the streets, locals kicking it as it passes. The carriage ends up twisted and broken in a residential district, becoming a curious climbing

frame for local children. Before long, the only real reminders of the imperial age are the three triumphal arches constructed for the coronation. Most foreigners leave Bangi as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, the French forces remain in the CIR to support the restored Daco government, not before they've taken a look around for themselves. Four Puma helicopters fly a squadron of curious paratroopers to Beringo. They stroll around the deserted palace, taking away the coronation paraphernalia as well as cash,

diamonds and jewelry. They also remove a dossier of 40 letters from President Gisker. At another imperial residence, they discovered that Bacasa has transformed one room into a personal museum, featuring souvenirs of his military career and trips abroad. While all this is happening, a rumor spreads that during their ransacking, the French have discovered two bodies trussed up in a walk-in freezer, apparently awaiting the attentions of the imperial cook. It's also alleged that human bones have been found at the bottom of a pond,

the remains of enemies whom Picasso fed to the crocodiles. For many, these outlandish claims are hard to swallow, and yet still, the cannibalism allegations quickly find their way into the international press, much to Picasso's fury. The cannibalism charges were so sensational that, you know, Lots of people talked about it and still in some circle talk about it, but it was never proven. So I wouldn't give much steam to that rumor or sterote. But it kind of helped him being seen as this kind of brutal person during his power.

Exiled in Abidjan, Bacassar largely remains indoors, wallowing in depression and despair at the sudden loss of everything dear to him. Not that he is totally bereft of other comforts. Free of charge, his meals are wheeled over to his villa each day from a nearby hotel. He's brought steak, fried potatoes, camembert and beaujolet, some of his favourites. Unable to make withdrawals from his European bank accounts, he lives on his monthly pension of 6,000 francs from the French army. Boccasa broods over his betrayal by Giscar.

The French president continues to distance himself from the former emperor. But in October 1979, reports emerged that remind everyone how close Giscar once was to the fearsome dictator. As well as their numerous hunting trips together, it's uncovered that Giscai received an extravagant gift from Boccasa. $250,000 worth of diamonds. The president tries to dismiss the whole affair, but the revelations torpedo his reputation,

playing a key role in him losing his re-election bid in 1981. Boccasa is delighted. Ghiskar betrayed me, he tells those around him, but now we're on the same footing. It draws a line under the complex relationship between these two powerful men. In many ways, a relationship that encapsulates the messy ties left between France and its former colony. The figure of Bacasa was used in different ways. In some circles in France, that was a way of confirming that France should never have left

and that what France was doing was right, because those who followed the French rule were unable to run the country properly. For other people, the very presence of Bacasa in power was demonstration that the French would not allow an educated and independence-minded elite to emerge and was actively trying to block that elite and were impeding the development of the country by placing inept leaders and therefore blocking more competent leadership in these countries. For a time, Bacasa enjoys the public downfall of his erstwhile French ally. But what the former emperor doesn't know is that he is about to receive some bad news of his own. Now it seems there are fingers pointing at him. Back in the CAR, it's announced that Bacasa is to face a series of charges,

lurid, damaging, horrific charges of murder, embezzlement and cannibalism. Boccasa is tried in absentia. Seemingly, he's eager to be there, to clear his name in court. But the Daco government won't allow it. With Bucasa back in the country and on the stand, chaos is sure to follow. The objective of this trial is not so much to hold the accused to account, but to banish him to the past. The trial begins on December the 19th, 1980, in the very stadium where just three years earlier he'd crowned himself emperor.

But if anything, this lacks the seriousness of that dubious occasion. There are no cross-examinations or lawyers for the defence. The atmosphere is one of excitement, even celebration. The 50 witnesses are able to speak totally freely to make sometimes wild accusation. without fear of reprisals or contradiction. Even the more credible witnesses are often vague or non-committal. Very little documentary evidence is produced to back up their claims. The cannibalism charge results in the most extraordinary testimony of all.

An aging military man called Philippe Linguisa claims to have been threatened by Bacasa with a revolver and ordered to cook a man's body from the freezer by stuffing it with a man. rice and onions. He even claims that at one point the body sat up and pointed at him, causing him to yelp and stuff it back in the oven. Asperius as such claims appear to be, these new charges of cannibalism captured the attention of those following the case, especially Western journalists. Poucassar is one of the leaders who, like many others, were vilified in the West for being caricatures of dictatorship. The There's a real person and there's a real history here, but there's also so many myths this

is wrapped up with, like Indyamene in Uganda and like other prominent African post-colonial leaders, there's a sense of attraction and repulsion that the international audience has towards these figures. Only four days into the trial, Bacasa is declared guilty and handed a death sentence. Still exiled in the Ivory Coast, he remains safe from execution. yet the verdict and sentence infuriate him. In February 1981, Daco manages to pass a new constitution modelled on that of France. Elections follow in March, which Daco wins with just over half the vote.

But he never really has the country on his side. Chaos is rife, and law and order becomes the prime. concern. Some even yearned for the early years of Boccasa. Early in the morning on September 1st, several hundred soldiers under General Andre Colingba's command surround the presidential palace. They demand Daco resign, and he accepts all too readily. Power passes to Cullingba. In Abidjan, Bacasa has been moved to a larger house, where he lives with 15 of his children. For a man with a death sentence hanging over him, he moves around very freely. Through his nightclubbing, he meets a young Ivorian partner who duly gives birth to another daughter,

but she soon leaves him, driven away by his erratic moods. Most evenings, Picasso makes the rounds of his favorite bars, and usually finds someone to listen to his anecdotes. To fill the daytime hours, He walks his dogs and reads the papers. The afternoons are spent napping, readying himself for another night on the town. A return to Bangi looks almost impossible for the time being. He has no passport, but he does have an Ivorian identity card. His occupation is listed as ex-emperor.

Boccasa complains bitterly over what he calls his imprisonment in Abidjan. The Ivorian government isn't too happy about the situation either. They continually pressure France to relieve them of their unwanted and unwilling guest. Until eventually, on December 4, 1981, Bacasa is escorted aboard an Air-Afrique flight to Paris. He takes up residence at Chateau-Adricor, where a heavy contingent of plain-clothes police officers man the gates. Inside, Bacasa puts up huge portraits of the Empress Catherine and Jean-Biddell Jr. A bust of Napoleon assumes pride of place in the main living room. But the emperor has few sources of funding available to him.

As winter sets in, Bacasa fears that the cost of heating his chateau will be beyond him. In December, the water is cut off as he slips into death. In January, the telephone goes dead. Rather optimistically, he appeals to the United Nations, Pope John Paul II, and even Amnesty International for help. He is roundly ignored. So Bacasa takes matters into his own hands. He sources a central African passport made out in the name of Christian Soleil, a former international footballer. This in hand, he slips out of the chateau and is driven to Brussels airport.

As he flies out, he's barely recognized, this deposed emperor sitting in tourist class. After a connection in Rome, Boccasa is well and truly on his way home. And at dawn, on October the 23rd, 1986, he peers down through dense fog over Bangy as the plane descends. After a long and painful seven-year absence, Bacasa sets foot in the Central African Republic once more. It's while he stood at the baggage carousel that his presence starts to create a hubbub. Points and gasps are followed by cheers and chanting of his name. Bacassar is in his element, buoyed by the acclaim of the people, his people. But the triumph is short-lived.

A squadron of French soldiers is hastily dispatched to the airport, where they find Bacassar still in the terminal building, chatting amiably to admirers. The soldiers bundled him into a blue Persia to be taken to the Camp de Rue. Finally, Boccassar's fate is announced. As is the right of anybody convicted in absentia in the CAR, the former emperor shall stand trial once more. more, this time in person.

There are 14 charges in total. Proceedings will be broadcast live over the radio so that the entire nation can listen. Hundreds of journalists arrive in Bangi to cover the trial. Things kick off at noon on November the 26, 1986. Bacassar appears before a packed courtroom. packed courtroom, wearing a dark gray suit and striped silk tie. Most central Africans have not seen their emperor since his exile. He is aged visibly, his hair and beard now grey. The trial drags on for months. Day after day, the court hears gruesome details of repression and torture.

early in March, the trial turns to the most anticipated charge, particularly among European journalists, cannibalism. Many of the same witnesses who testified in 1980 take the stand again. Under sharp questioning from the defense, these stories now fall apart. That charge of cannibalism was actually made up by a French mercenary who had spent time in the Central African Republic at that time and so was known to be someone in the know. And when he got back to France,

he made up all sorts of stories to tell to the French press. And these were stories about cannibalism and other depravities. Ultimately, Bacasa is found not guilty of cannibalism. But the other accusations against him cannot be dismissed. On the 12th of June, he is found guilty of complicity in at least 20 murders. He's also guilty of embezzling around $10 million from the state. Then comes the sentence. Death by firing squad.

To be carried out in Uyghurabah prison. In court, Bukasa retains his composure. A knowing smile plays on his lips. He'd expected nothing less. However, on February the 29th, 1988, he receives a reprieve from President Colingba, who was opposed to capital punishment. Instead, Bacasa now faces life imprisonment with hard labor.

In his cell at Camp de Rue, Picasso rarely receives visitors. He's allowed books and the occasional newspaper, but has no access to a radio. In his old age, religion becomes a major comfort. He comes to consider himself an apostle of Christ. Towards the end of his life, he was born again as a Christian. I do have this image in my head of him being in bright clothes with a big cross and a bribus. and of preaching the word of God.

On September 1, 1993, President Kulingba decides to release thousands of political prisoners in a general amnesty. Among them is Bukasa, free from prison after around half a decade. Ultimately, he's sent to live under house arrest in a crumbling villa, where he's visited infrequently by a few relatives and acquaintances. His final few years are largely solitary. On November 3, 1996, Bacasa, aged 75, dies of a heart attack. He is survived by 17 wives and probably hundreds of children. The former Empress Catherine lives quietly in the CIR, and Bacassas' offspring are spread the world over.

In 1998, one is found homeless, wandering the streets of Paris. Another ends up in jail on firearms charges. At Borengo, Bacassar's former Imperial Court, his tomb is today covered in bathroom tiles and sheltered by six concrete pillars, supporting a dented steel roof. The resting places of many of his victims will never be known. Since his downfall, the C.A.R. has suffered economic turmoil and civil wars, leading to the death and displacement of hundreds of thousands of people. Today, nearly three quarters of Central Africans are in poverty. In the Central African Republic now, yes, there is a president. However, there are so many different actors in the country who all have taken on different kinds of of governing authorities. You have mercenaries organized by Russia. You have a giant United Nations

mission that's in the country. You have different diplomats who are in the country. You have Rwandan soldiers who are in the country. You have this whole mishmash of different actors who are all playing a pretty important role in Central African politics. It's never really clear who actually is really in charge. And that's very different from the era of Bocasa when he was able to stand forward as this kind of visionary leader. A visionary leader whose effects and ability to build institutions turned out to be very small, but nonetheless, I think that's part of why he still holds a lot of appeal for Central Africans, because he was the one time when they felt like they had a chance of sort of standing on their own feet, and that possibility now seems

kind of further away than ever. Despite Bacassas' catalogue of crimes, some older central Africans look back on his dictatorship, or at least the early part of it, as the good old days. Relatively speaking, the most prosperous and secure period in the country's history. Much of the CER's dilapidated infrastructure dates from that time, including the airport, many of the schools, the university, and the television station. The period where he was in power could definitely be seen as one of the most, stable and hopeful, hopeful, right? The university, the bengue, is still standing,

and it's a reminder all the time that without Vokasa, we wouldn't have a national university in this country. In 2010, CAR President Francois-Boszzi attempts to rehabilitate Bocassi. describing him as someone who built the country, but we have destroyed what he built. A fair description of a man who attempted to modernize his homeland in impossible circumstances, or a blinkered, rose-tinted view of a tyrant who committed appalling crimes against his own people. Somehow, with Bocasa, all seems true at once.

Ocasa's legacy is primarily in the stories that people tell about him and perhaps in the fantasies that they have about him. And for me, when I see some of the buildings that were built under his tenure and the most notable one, in my opinion, is the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which looks like a flying saucer, it makes me think that there was once a time in the Central African Republic's history when the leaders were able to, dream big. And nowadays, I think there are a lot of people who feel like if Bocasa had had a little bit more time or if circumstances had been slightly different, then he would have been able to realize that dream, that promise of making this into a great country. But of course, he didn't. So. He's not necessarily remembered for all the brutal things. Not necessarily remembered for the Nkharagabah Dosen Massacre, not necessarily remembered for how he killed his friends, who could threaten his power, or how he removed cacao from power.

But as someone who's strong, fearless, and initiated development project for the country, is something that is missing that people are asking for. Central Africans are still longing for a big or grand project that will give them hope. Thanks for listening to the Bukasa story. Real dictators will be back soon as we travel to Yugoslavia for the story of Marshall Tito. That's next time. Stay tuned. Thank you.