Monday, Oct. 13, 1958

No Time for Dancing

At 6:30 one morning last week, 50 Guinean maidens clad in pink robes and blue turbans gathered outside a large white house in Conakry to serenade the man who had just brought them independence. Alone among the territories of French West Africa, Guinea (pop. 2,500,000) had voted no to the new French constitution. But the young man responsible was hardly in a mood for jubilation. At a brief ceremony, Premier Sekou Toure, 36, took over as chief of government, then faced the outsized task of setting up a government for a new nation that had not even taken the time to think up a flag or an anthem. "This," said Toure glumly as he banned all public demonstrations, "is no time for dancing."

All his life, Marxist-leaning Sekou Toure has dreamed of the day when he would finish the work of the man he claimed as his grandfather--the legendary Chief Samory who fought so fiercely to drive the French out of West Africa. As head of the powerful (700,000 members) Union Generale des Travailleurs d'Afrique Noire, he ruthlessly slashed his way to power, often quieted his opponents by the simple expedient of burning down their houses. Though he was a constant troublemaker, French officials grudgingly admired him as the brightest of West Africa's rising young black men. Furthermore, since Guinea sends 67% of its exports to France, and French capital has been pouring into the territory's industries and bauxite mines, Paris never dreamed that Toure would dare to cut himself loose from France entirely.

De Gaulle learned otherwise on a speaker's platform six weeks ago in Conakry, when, as De Gaulle sat in icy silence. Toure thundered: "We prefer poverty in liberty to riches in slavery!" That night the outraged general abruptly canceled a diner intime with Toure. Outraged in turn, Toure went all out in his campaign against the constitution. Result: more than 95% of his people voted non.

De Gaulle lost no time in showing Guinea the price of saying no. A special envoy rushed down from Paris, ticked off to Toure the dreaded list of things to come. All French public servants, technicians and army units would leave within three months. Financial aid would cease, and Guinea's exports (coffee, bananas, bauxite) would be subject to the same stiff tariffs as those of other foreign countries. As the French tricolor vanished from the land, Toure began to hope that, having slammed the door, he would not find it irrevocably locked behind him. He hailed France as "a friend and generous brother," called for economic negotiations. Though some Frenchmen wanted to teach Toure a lesson, others counseled the dangers of driving him to appeal to Nasser or his old Marxist masters for help. They thought that France should continue "a generous brother," only not so generous as to those who had fraternally voted oui.

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