Ladies and gentlemen, adjust your chairs, grab your popcorn and settle in—because Lydia Mutyebele Ngoi, a Belgian Member of Parliament of Congolese descent, has just premiered a tragicomedy in the august house. Forget Wole Soyinka’s The Trials of Brother Jero—this new act of finger-pointing at Rwanda over €20 million is the real drama of the season. Mutyebele, with all the conviction of someone uncovering a grand conspiracy, chastised her country for not blocking funds meant for Mozambique’s fight against Islamic terrorists. Apparently, Rwanda is the bogeyman pulling invisible strings, and the EU has been hypnotized into submission. Cue the violins. But wait! The real influence isn't Rwanda's over Europe; it's Mutyebele and her ilk, acting as vocal mouthpieces for President Felix Tshisekedi and his propagandist-in-chief, Patrick Muyaya. With the finesse of a stage magician, they've imported Congolese political theatrics straight into Belgian diplomacy, transforming legislative chambers into a circus of baseless accusations, wild figures, and shameless hyperbole. DR Congo’s Magical Math: Who's Counting? In Mutyebele’s latest monologue, she lamented the 10 million deaths allegedly caused by Rwanda’s supposed influence in eastern Congo. The absurdity reaches dizzying heights when you realize that her figure falls short of the 15 million proudly touted by Ambassador Zenon Ngay Mukongo—the DRC’s Permanent Representative to the UN. Either someone forgot to synchronize their talking points, or they’re treating death tolls like auction bids. “Do I hear 20 million? Going once, going twice...” What’s truly remarkable about these numbers is their utter detachment from reality. It’s like a sick game of roulette, where the numbers are spun to suit the propaganda needs of the moment. The population of both North and South Kivu combined doesn’t even come close to these inflated figures. By their logic, entire provinces must have not only perished but also been resurrected several times over to sustain this propaganda. Equally laughable is the claim of 7 million displaced persons because of M23. A cursory glance at reports from the International Organization for Migration (IOM) and UNHCR shows that this figure represents displaced persons across the entire DRC, from Kinshasa to Kasai, not just the eastern provinces. For North Kivu alone, the number is 1.78 million, with 865,000 having already returned home in the past 18 months. But why let facts ruin a good story? Tshisekedi and his cheerleaders, like Mutyebele, have no qualms about distorting reality to sustain their anti-Rwanda rhetoric. They know that playing victim is far easier than addressing the root causes of the crisis in eastern Congo: corruption, state-sponsored militias, and a refusal to confront the genocidal FDLR. A Solution Buried in the Sand The tragedy of eastern Congo isn’t Rwanda—it’s Kinshasa’s reckless policies. While Mutyebele and her Congolese allies howl about Rwanda, the humanitarian crisis in eastern Congo worsens daily. The real culprits—the genocidal FDLR, FARDC, and countless other militias—continue to terrorize civilians. Tshisekedi’s government, instead of neutralizing these groups, arms and glorifies them as “patriots” or “Wazalendo,” allowing chaos to fester. The solution to this crisis is neither Mutyebele’s performative outrage nor Tshisekedi’s military bravado. The proper response isn’t the endless spewing of fabrications but the courage to address root causes: It lies in direct political dialogue with the M23 to address legitimate grievances and dismantling the FDLR—a genocidal group responsible for atrocities in both Congo and Rwanda. But that would require Kinshasa to admit its failures, something it seems pathologically incapable of doing. Instead, Kinshasa buries its head in the sand, blaming everyone but itself. Meanwhile, officials like Mutyebele play cheerleader from the sidelines, amplifying this farce in foreign parliaments. It’s as if the DRC government is a chef blaming their burnt dish on the neighboring restaurant, while their kitchen remains engulfed in flames. A Belgian Ancore In the end, Mutyebele’s tirade in the Belgian Parliament is a microcosm of Congolese politics: loud, theatrical, and completely detached from reality. Her antics may earn applause from her peers, but they do nothing to address the suffering of millions in eastern Congo. If anything, they expose the cynical manipulation at the heart of Tshisekedi’s regime—a regime that would rather shuffle numbers and assign blame than face the truth. Let us return to the august house in Belgium, where Mutyebele’s grandstanding plays to an audience that probably doesn't know (or care) about the intricacies of Congolese politics. One might think that a parliamentarian representing a European nation would prioritize thoughtful, evidence-based debate. Instead, we get a comedy of errors, where every speech is a desperate attempt to paint Rwanda as an omnipresent villain. If Mutyebele and her Congolese allies truly cared about the humanitarian crisis, they’d concentrate on the DRC’s glaring failures. They’d demand accountability for the creation of criminal militias, the emboldening of the FDLR, and the persistent refusal to negotiate with the M23. Instead, they opt for the easier route—spreading propaganda that collapses under the weight of its own absurdity. So, here’s a suggestion: instead of exporting propaganda to Belgium, perhaps Tshisekedi and Mutyebele could focus on fixing the broken system in Kinshasa. Until then, the circus continues, with Mutyebele as its star performer and the Congolese people as its unwilling audience. If ridicule or shame could kill, Mutyebele and her colleagues might not survive their next parliamentary session. Alas, they remain impervious, like characters in a satire that refuses to end. In the meantime, Rwanda will continue to do what it does best—pursue practical solutions, partner with nations committed to peace, and ignore the noise emanating from the theater of the absurd. For those still seated in Mutyebele’s Belgian audience, I suggest investing in a fact-checking handbook. You’ll need it.
