Massacre at Quitexe Bernardo Teixeira

NOTE: Quitexe is a village and a small commercial center located about forty kilometers south of Carmona, the capital of the coffee-rich Uige district in northern Angola (Portuguese West Africa). On the morning of March 15, 1961, Quitexe was the target of bands of African terrorists, disguised as early shoppers. Only the village butcher and his family escaped the massacre. A year later I visited him in his house, and this is how he described to me the events of that morning.

“From these two windows in this room I can see most of the houses in the village,” the butcher began, pointing to specific places as he spoke, “I can see the doors of the two grocery stores, the clothing store, the pharmacy, the hardware and farming store, the gas and oil station, the trading post, the post office . . . We open our doors for business at eight o’clock sharp, but I get up at six every morning to feed the animals and to cut the meat and sort out the fish. I always eat a good breakfast at seven-thirty, at least a bowl of soup, eggs and sausage, bread and coffee. I always eat well in the morning. That morning, when my wife Maria, my daughter Lourdes and I sit down at the table for breakfast, I cannot even eat my soup! My stomach feels funny, nervous, I think. I say to myself, ‘I am not sick, why do I not eat?’ . . . My wife turns to me and says, ‘Why do you not eat, man, are you sick?’ … I am not sick but something is wrong. My daughter Lourdes says, ‘It is so quiet outside,’ and that is indeed funny because at seven-thirty the natives and farmers who come up from the sanzalas and farms to do their shopping or trade are usually talking loud and laughing in groups outside while waiting for the stores to open. I go to the window to see. There they are, as usual, the natives and a few white farmers in front of the doors of the stores. But the funny thing is that the natives are not talking loud or joking or laughing. They are kind of huddled in groups, looking sullen or talking low. Even funnier, most of them are wearing their heavy coats, but the morning is warm.

Featured Tags

Manage following

Africa

Terrorism

NOTE: Quitexe is a village and a small commercial center located about forty kilometers south of Carmona, the capital of the coffee-rich Uige district in northern Angola (Portuguese West Africa). On the morning of March 15, 1961, Quitexe was the target of bands of African terrorists, disguised as early shoppers. Only the village butcher and his family escaped the massacre. A year later I visited him in his house, and this is how he described to me the events of that morning.

“From these two windows in this room I can see most of the houses in the village,” the butcher began, pointing to specific places as he spoke, “I can see the doors of the two grocery stores, the clothing store, the pharmacy, the hardware and farming store, the gas and oil station, the trading post, the post office . . . We open our doors for business at eight o’clock sharp, but I get up at six every morning to feed the animals and to cut the meat and sort out the fish. I always eat a good breakfast at seven-thirty, at least a bowl of soup, eggs and sausage, bread and coffee. I always eat well in the morning. That morning, when my wife Maria, my daughter Lourdes and I sit down at the table for breakfast, I cannot even eat my soup! My stomach feels funny, nervous, I think. I say to myself, ‘I am not sick, why do I not eat?’ . . . My wife turns to me and says, ‘Why do you not eat, man, are you sick?’ … I am not sick but something is wrong. My daughter Lourdes says, ‘It is so quiet outside,’ and that is indeed funny because at seven-thirty the natives and farmers who come up from the sanzalas and farms to do their shopping or trade are usually talking loud and laughing in groups outside while waiting for the stores to open. I go to the window to see. There they are, as usual, the natives and a few white farmers in front of the doors of the stores. But the funny thing is that the natives are not talking loud or joking or laughing. They are kind of huddled in groups, looking sullen or talking low. Even funnier, most of them are wearing their heavy coats, but the morning is warm.