Diamonds and Guns

Todd Cleveland conducted his fieldwork while sometimes carrying an AK-47.

How many researchers can say that?

Cleveland, assistant professor of history at the University of Arkansas, traveled to Africa in the mid-2000s – funded in part by a Fulbright-Hays research fellowship – to study the history of diamond mines in Angola. He was a graduate student at the University of Minnesota at the time.

In the aftermath of World War II, the governments of newly independent African states, both democratic and despotic, joined industry giant De Beers and other corporations to oversee and profit from diamond mining activity on the continent.

Cleveland navigated bureaucratic red tape to gain access to villagers who had worked in the mines under Portuguese rule.

He is the author of Stones of Contention: A History of Africa’s Diamonds (Ohio University Press, 2014) and Diamonds in the Rough: Corporate Paternalism and African Professionalism on the Mines of Colonial Angola, 1917-1975 (Ohio University Press, 2015).

I sat down with him recently as he shared some of his experiences.

From 2004 to 2006, I periodically traveled, under the aegis of private mining corporations, government or church organizations, to the diamond-yielding area of Angola, an area difficult to access because the Angolan government wasn’t keen on outsiders touring around. The only way to get out there at the time were Antonov cargo planes flown by Russians who had stuck around after the Angolan civil war ended in 2002. There was no seating on these planes and more than once they had just slaughtered goats prior to takeoff to take for food to the mining operations. The first time I flew to the mines, I found myself leaning against one of these recently slaughtered goats for the duration of the flight. That was my introduction to traveling to the diamond mines.

But it got worse. The Russian pilots arrived and they couldn’t be more of a cliché. They were smoking and drinking vodka and had their shirts unbuttoned down to their waist. Black socks pulled up to their knees. You’d fly for about two hours in pitch darkness and as you started to descend it was unnerving because you knew you were approaching the ground but you had no idea where you were in relation to it. Eventually, you would slam down on a dirt runway. First, the Russians would emerge from the cockpit, still smoking, and open the door to the outside. You would walk down the stairs and immediately an individual would demand your passport and disappear with it. My passport would often disappear for weeks at a time and they’d expect money for it to resurface.

Out on the mines, it was very much like a “wild west” scenario. You had artisanal miners, ranging from one man or a group of kids who go out with rudimentary equipment to small groups of well-armed individuals who traveled and worked together. They didn’t have a legal stake to mine any of these areas. Layered on top of that are all the private security firms run by Angolan military generals. This area is awash in guns. There would be gunfire and fighting every night. The legal mining companies hire private security – all former battle-tested commandos in the Angolan civil war. These companies also have an inner-circle of security made up of ex-special forces for Portugal and South Africa, among other places. These were rough individuals. One guy had killed black protesters in South Africa. Another asked me what my favorite bomb was. They were alarming, but often amusing to talk to. There were no other Americans out there, so they would all tease me and talk into their collars like I was CIA.

My project was to find and interview individuals who had worked in the mines during the colonial period, so I would spend my days doing that. At times, I was required to carry an AK-47, which is the only gun I’ve ever fired and may well be the only gun I’ve ever held. I got used to it, but the first time I thought, ‘What in God’s name am I doing here?’

The scariest moment came when I was invited to go for a drive by a mine manager who was convinced his head of security was permitting illegal operations to come in at night and he would then look the other way in exchange for a hefty payment. We packed our guns and there were two or three guys in the back of the truck and a mounted machine gun on top. Eventually, we stumbled upon a full-fledged illegal operation. That was remarkable. It felt like you found a small settlement in the middle of nowhere. The mine manager was extremely upset. Word had spread that we were in the area and all of a sudden we were surrounded by guys who were very well-armed. There were many more of them than there were of us. That’s when I was really, really concerned about what was going to happen next, and so was he. He told the guys on the truck to put their arms down. We stared at each other for what was probably only about 15 seconds but it felt like a lifetime. They could have easily taken us out.

He put the truck in reverse – I can remember this like it happened yesterday – and we slowly began to back up. It took a while before we got far enough away from them before you could see them relaxing a little bit. Eventually he found a spot where we could turn the truck around and we made it back to headquarters. I think I left a few days after that. At that point, I was really happy to head home, which at that time was Luanda, the capital city of Angola.