Practical Work: Sapeuses (Women Sapeurs) in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo

During a conversation in the summer of 2019 in Kinshasa with the sapeuse La Princesse, she said that she tells her son repeatedly, “You eat money from La SAPE.” We sat at an outside table of a nganda (bar) underneath the shade while her son sat within earshot of our conversation.1 I was struck by La Princesse's assertion because it had framed La SAPE as a source of money that enables one to eat. This is significant in light of academic and media (mis)representations of La SAPE, which often concentrate on the elegance, extravagance, and escapism of sapeuses and sapeurs. Speaking of La SAPE in terms of earning income shifts the focus to practicality rather than reinforcing its sensationalism.La SAPE stands for Société des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Élégantes (Society of Ambiance Makers and Elegant Persons), and its members are called sapeuses (for women) and sapeurs (for men).2 While its exact origins are unclear, La SAPE today is associated generally with Brazzaville and Kinshasa. Separated by the Congo River, the histories of these twin capitals are entangled yet distinct, as Republic of the Congo was colonized by France and Democratic Republic of the Congo was colonized by Belgium. In conversations that I had with sapeuses and sapeurs in Kinshasa, they consistently claimed that they are born members of La SAPE and that it is in their blood; in cases in which people want to become members of La SAPE, they have to work hard. They also describe a handful of qualities that make one recognizable as a member of La SAPE: being clean, behaving well, dressing well, and having a good attitude towards work. Kadhitoza, a member of La SAPE (Fig. 1), showed me his identity card, which listed sapeur as his occupation. This emphasis on work has been lost in academic and media representations of La SAPE in the United States and Europe.Therefore, my aim is to offer a reading of La SAPE as work in a few respects: as connected to public performance, as a way to earn money, and as a means of support for its members, their families, and individuals affiliated with (but not members of) La SAPE. I move the focus away from sensational readings of La SAPE to show how it is not escapism from one's reality of living in Kinshasa; rather, it is a response to the very challenges of living in the city. In particular, I discuss how membership in La SAPE is a practical strategy for sapeuses in Kinshasa, as the experience for sapeuses and sapeurs is distinct due to existing gender expectations and attitudes towards women working in public. However, this is not to exclude the idea that sapeurs consider La SAPE as a form of work. Instead, I deliberately narrow my focus to sapeuses, as sapeurs dominate academic and media representations. I begin by introducing the origins and history of La SAPE, and then discuss previous scholarly interpretations that depict it as a means of escapism. Then, I turn to the urban realities of living in Kinshasa, concentrating on the informal or second economy in the postindependence period and the history of women's work in the city. Afterwards, I consider La SAPE as work by utilizing conversations with sapeuses and sapeurs and by drawing from performance studies.While members of La SAPE have been around since the early twentieth century, their introduction to the United States and Europe via advertisements (such as Héctor Mediavilla's short documentary for Guinness Beer in 2014), videos (such as Solange Knowles's “Losing You” music video in 2012), and online articles has been mostly within the last decade. Members of La SAPE have a reputation for their extroversion and expensive outfits, consisting mainly of suits said to be from Europe, as well as leather shoes, sunglasses, pipes, and walking canes (Fig. 2). Due to their particular style of dress and ostentatiousness, they are referred to as Congolese dandies, as evinced by the title of Justin-Daniel Gandoulou's 1989 study, Dandies à Bacongo: le culte de l'élégance dans la société congolaise contemporaine (Dandies of Bacongo: The cult of elegance in contemporary Congolese society), which is one of the first academic works on La SAPE.While exactly when and where La SAPE started is debatable, Didier Gondola asserts that it dates back to the first years of the colonial period in Brazzaville, which housed the French colonial administration and Europeans (Gondola 2010: 159). Congolese houseboys and servants working in European homes began to dress in the styles of their employers, as they would receive secondhand clothing as compensation (Gondola 1999: 26, 2010: 159). Phyllis M. Martin's research on colonial Brazzaville indicates that the importation of European cloth, clothing, and accessories into what became known as French Equatorial Africa3 had entered a culture of dressing well, which is one of the values held by members of La SAPE. Martin points out that many Central Africans have always understood the power of fashion and its ability to signify identity and status, even prior to European colonization (1994: 401, 405).In colonial Brazzaville, the existing clothing culture was transformed in two ways: the increased access to imported clothing and accessories to anyone who could afford them; and the interactions with people from various places in Africa. The colonial administration and trading companies in Brazzaville hired and brought to the city educated and skilled laborers from countries in West Africa and Gabon (Martin 1994: 405-407). These workers, referred to as the Bapopo or Coastmen, were regarded by Congolese people as models of success (Gondola 2010: 159). In the 1920s, men from Gabon and Loango donned “suits and used accessories such as canes, monocles, gloves and pocket watches on chains,” while women from Gabon wore “short dresses, silk stockings and high heeled shoes” and carried “handbags and umbrellas” (Martin 1994: 407). Women from West Africa also modeled new ways to wear clothing, such as belting a long dress at one's waist. However, the new styles of clothing and accessories had a more significant impact on Congolese men than on Congolese women. For women, wearing pagnes (wrap skirts) conveyed value in a way that the imported styles could not (Martin 1994: 407, 419). In contrast, from the 1930s onward, Congolese men in Brazzaville and in Kinshasa were attracted to the European fashions worn by the Bapopo. They were no longer satisfied with their employers’ secondhand clothing and desired to obtain the latest fashions from Paris. They acquired clothes by ordering them through the mail or arranging for them to be purchased and sent to Brazzaville by people they knew in France. In the 1940s and 1950s, La SAPE intertwined fashion with popular music and with youth. Young people flocked to venues such as nightclubs in Brazzaville and Kinshasa to hear and to dance to Congolese rumba. In these spaces, members of La SAPE would display and discuss their fashions, often engaging in competitions with one another to see who dressed and performed better (Gondola 2010: 160, 164; MacGaffey and Bazenguissa-Ganga 2000: 140).However, La SAPE in Kinshasa came under attack with President Mobutu Sese Seko's rise to power in 1965, following Democratic Republic of the Congo's tumultuous transition from Belgian rule to independence in 1960. His regime received significant support from Western powers, which preferred his authoritarian rule over a Soviet-controlled state. During his dictatorship, he insisted on indigenizing the country, changing its name to Zaïre. His backing by foreign countries enabled him to cling to power until 1997 and amass wealth at the expense of the majority (Nzongola-Ntalaja 2002). During Mobutu's dictatorship, he instituted the policy of authenticité in the 1970s, which mandated a return to so-called traditional African values and institutions (Wilson 1982: 160). This policy forbade men from wearing Western-style clothing, promoting instead the aba-cost (“short-sleeved suit worn without a tie”). Given that Mobutu desired the people to be rid of outside influence and be more “authentic,” the choice of word for the suit is ironic. Abacost comes from the French phrase à bas le costume, which means “down with the suit” (Thomas 2003: 958).Authenticité's limits on clothing not only impacted what sapeuses and sapeurs could wear, but also the way La SAPE functioned in Kinshasa. The oldest sapeuse I met, Clementine Batia, said that there were no competitions or events held in public under Mobutu's dictatorship.4 Mama Mineur, another sapeuse, described this time as having no noise (Fig. 3). When I asked her to explain what she meant, she said that it was like having coffee without sugar (i.e., it was bad).5Sapeurs who refused to comply with authenticité's strictures on clothing were beaten (Wrong 1999: 27). Despite the threat of punishment, La SAPE persisted. One of the most famous Congolese musicians and sapeurs, Papa Wemba, advocated against donning the abacost (Thomas 2003: 958-59). Moreover, he popularized La SAPE in Brazzaville, in Kinshasa, and for Congolese living abroad in Europe during the 1970s and 1980s. All the sapeuses and sapeurs I spoke with said Papa Wemba is a source of inspiration and influence. Another musician, Stervos Niarcos, impacted La SAPE with his song, “Religion ya Kitendi,” advocating that obtaining and wearing kitendi (cloth) should be the first priority in life (Gondola 2010: 164). This has been taken with utter seriousness by sapeuses and sapeurs, to the point that La SAPE today is perceived by audiences in the United States and Europe for the obsession with designer clothing.Scholarship and media circulating in the United States and Europe tend to interpret La SAPE as a form of escapism in two respects: a literal escape by embarking for Europe and a figurative escape by donning griffes (designer labels; French slang for “labels”). These two types of escapism are connected, as one of the ways members of La SAPE can find griffes is by traveling to Europe and acquiring them there. When Congo-Brazzaville and Congo-Kinshasa gained independence in 1960, many urban youth in both countries struggled to find work in the cities due to economic, social, and political chaos (Gondola 2010: 165). Viewing Europe as a land of opportunity, many young people fled to Western European cities such as Paris, Brussels, and London. However, it is important to point out that traveling to Europe was considered an adventure undertaken by men. The term mikiliste was used in reference to men, “designat[ing] the young Congolese who live in Europe and, to a lesser extent, in North America … Mikili in Lingala is the plural for mokili, the ‘world,’ and has become synonymous for Europe. When the French suffix is added, the word identifies the young who made it to Europe” (Gondola 1999: 28). However, mikilistes living in Europe became disillusioned, as they faced discrimination and found themselves settling for the most unwanted jobs and poor living conditions. For them, turning to La SAPE became a source of empowerment that enabled them to create new identities away from home and in Europe (Gondola 1999: 28, 30, 2010: 165).Likewise, Dominic Thomas asserts that young people from both Congo-Brazzaville and Congo-Kinshasa have a fascination with France, which had colonized the former. In particular, the city of Paris is construed as a place where young Brazzavillois (residents of Brazzaville) could fulfill their dreams.6 For members of La SAPE, this means traveling to France to obtain griffes. Eventually, they return home and expect their social status to be improved since they have traveled abroad (2003: 948-49). This is marked visually by their display of cleanliness, elegant manners, and most conspicuously, the donning of griffes.7As mentioned earlier, dressing in griffes from brands such as Versace, Dolce and Gabbana, Yohji Yamamoto, and Yves Saint Laurent is interpreted by scholars and the media as a form of figurative escapism. Gondola writes, “[w]ithout the griffe, the sape would not exist … If the sapeur believes that clothing makes the man, he also believes that griffes make the clothing … By acquiring the griffe, which he will do at any cost, the sapeur buys himself a fragment of his dream” (Gondola 1999: 34). The dream that is referred to is the desire to have wealth and affluence. Thus, griffes signify their wearers have riches and power, even if in reality they do not. However, the value attached to clothing by members of La SAPE is evident. The sapeuses and sapeurs I met took pride in pointing out each article of clothing and accessory they wore, detailing the brands of each item (Fig. 4). I also found that they value clothing for reasons other than the prestige and power they can communicate. La Princesse said that a husband can divorce you, but clothes cannot.8 Clementine Batia pointed out that because of La SAPE, when she sleeps she wakes up with clothes.9 These descriptions seem to portray clothing as a source of stability in the face of the precarity of living in Kinshasa. This seems to contribute to the idea that dressing in griffes enables members of La SAPE to escape their circumstances, which might include hardship and poverty (Jorgenson 2014: 38-39).However, this imaginative escape from reality could also be perceived as selfish ambition. In photographs and videos of sapeurs posted online, escapism through dressing well has been viewed with compassion on the one hand, and contempt on the other. For example, Russian Television Documentary posted a video on YouTube entitled The Congolese Dandies: Living in Poverty and Spending a Fortune to Look like a Million Bucks (2015).10 The documentary follows sapeurs in Brazzaville, giving the audience glimpses of their wardrobes and their reasoning behind the acquisition of griffes. On the webpage, commenters largely criticize sapeurs for their spending habits, as they choose to purchase clothing over supporting their families. These reviewers’ comments indicate their disgust with the sapeurs for not having their priorities in order. They condemn the sapeurs for appearing materialistic and superficial, causing those who they are responsible for to suffer. In contrast, some reviewers see the sapeurs’ lifestyle and choices with sympathy, recognizing that designer clothing gives its wearers a sense of empowerment and pride. Both sets of comments reflect the view that La SAPE is not a form of work; it is dismissed as impractical or seen as a source of comfort or a coping mechanism in the face of hardship.Janet MacGaffey and Rémy Bazenguissa-Ganga's study of Congolese traders in Paris (including sapeuses and sapeurs) is distinct from previous scholarship on La SAPE because it focuses on a diverse range of activities traders do to make money. As with urban youth in the postindependence period of Congo-Brazzaville and Congo-Kinshasa, young Congolese people were motivated to migrate to Europe in the 1980s and 1990s to look for opportunities that were otherwise unavailable at home. Due to the political and economic crises in Democratic Republic of the Congo during Mobutu's dictatorship, many Congolese people acknowledged that they could not depend on the government for aid; they had to take it upon themselves to improve their situation and search for employment elsewhere. The attitudes regarding what counted as work transformed over time:The perspective on work changed from meaning “salaried employment” and expanded to signify any means for obtaining income, including those “outside the law.” This shift in meaning suggests that salaried employment was much more prevalent in 1945 than in 1994. During Belgian rule, the colonial authorities provided and regulated jobs in Kinshasa (Shapiro, Gough, and Nyuba 2011: 489). Prior to independence, Congolese people viewed entering the civil service as an esteemed, respectable profession. Trading was looked down upon and farming was preferred (MacGaffey and Bazenguissa-Ganga 2000: 10-11). However, during Mobutu's dictatorship, the number of civil servants drastically decreased, and their spending power waned (Iyenda 2005: 57). The erosion of the civil service's prestige and the increased estimation of trading was due to a variety of factors:The corruption, incompetence, and cutthroat measures reflective of Mobutu's dictatorship caused the majority of the population to struggle to find work and to survive. Since people could not rely on Mobutu and his regime to relieve poverty and the country's ongoing crises, people had to search for ways to earn money outside stable, salaried employment by entering the informal or second economy.11 According to Guillaume Iyenda, the informal economy “involve[s] the production and trade of goods and services outside all legal trade and economic regulations (i.e., no licence, no insurance, no minimum wage, no health and safety standards), and bureaucratic rules.” Without these regulations and rules, people can start enterprises without the education, qualifications, and resources that characterize jobs in the formal economy (2005: 58, 63). MacGaffey and Bazenguissa-Ganga emphasize that activities in the second economy evade taxation and are not necessarily sanctioned by the law (2000: 4). However, in a situation in which options for work are slim, earning income through the informal or second economy is a strategy to fend for oneself. Historically, women's work in Kinshasa has been in the informal or second economy.Today, trading is considered an acceptable occupation for women in Kinshasa, though it was not a lucrative practice initially. In the examination of the shifting attitudes towards women's work in Democratic Republic of the Congo, Francille Rusan Wilson recognizes that prior to colonization, women residing in rural areas in general had rights to the lands that they cultivated crops upon and could do what they wished with any excess. Since they took a central role in farming and growing food, Congolese women's work in rural areas was greatly esteemed. However, during Belgian rule, colonial authorities and missionaries denigrated farming by women, claiming that it made men unproductive. Since the colonial administration sought to diminish the importance of farming by women, the status afforded to women engaged in crop production was consequently relegated (1982: 153-55).When Belgian colonists expelled the indigenous inhabitants from the area that became Léopoldville (Kinshasa) in 1881, they encouraged only young Congolese men to migrate to the city to serve as the workforce. While they were needed to build the city, these so-called HAV, or hommes adultes valides (able-bodied adult men), were forced to live in poor areas away from European residences. Women were discouraged from moving to Léopoldville by both Congolese men and by the Belgian authorities until World War II (Gondola 1997: 66, 69). Despite the colonial administration's disparagement of women's farming, women were compelled to stay in rural areas because they remained the primary crop producers and helped to supplement the low wages earned by Congolese men. Though Congolese women were dissuaded from coming to cities, those who went to places such as Léopoldville had found that they had few options for survival. Trade was unprofitable at first and the crops brought to the market were confiscated (Wilson 1982: 154-55). Moreover, since the Belgian authorities controlled and regulated the labor market, the informal and second economy was small at this point, and employed women were exceptional (Shapiro, Gough, and Nyuba 2011: 489). This drove many women, single and married, to engage in prostitution to earn income. Since prostitution was heavily stigmatized, cities like Léopoldville were considered places of iniquity (Wilson 1982: 154-55).Jean La Fontaine's study of prostitution in Kinshasa in the post-independence period of the 1960s further sheds light on why women might turn to prostitution to earn income. Since options for women in the city were already limited and exacerbated by the Belgian authorities excluding them from education other than learning domestic work, women had to choose between marrying, trading, or prostituting themselves. Women who were prostitutes were labeled as femmes libres:Whether or not they actually engaged in prostitution, femmes libres had a reputation for being immoral. Femmes libres were not constrained by familial or marital duties, so they were free to pursue relationships with multiple men. Paradoxically, the source of their stigmatization enabled them to potentially elevate their social and economic status. Highly successful femmes libres, known as vedettes (stars), were also admired by Congolese women because they could become wealthy through their relationships with men of means (La Fontaine 2004: 98). Moreover, some women used their earnings from prostitution to own and open a nganda, which serves food and drinks. Since the 1960s, operating a nganda became one of the most lucrative opportunities for Congolese women (MacGaffey and Bazenguissa-Ganga 2000: 73, 143).In contrast to femmes libres, women who were married were considered respectable. Instead of going out in public to bars like femmes libres, they were expected to remain at home, except to shop at the markets, go visit their kin with their husbands, and attend events such as weddings. At home, they were supposed to maintain their house, raise children, and be hospitable towards guests. In short, the societal expectation for married women was that they should be devoted to their husbands, children, and their home (La Fontaine 2004: 93-94, 96). This attitude seems to persist today. In a conversation I had with the sapeuse Barbara Yves, she mentioned that she has been criticized for being a member of La SAPE because of the expectation that she should work at home since she is married.12Furthermore, the view that married women were successful if they were subservient to men was undergirded by the policy of authenticité, which idealized a patriarchal structure ruled by an “absolute chief” (i.e., Mobutu). Ironically, authenticité reinforced Belgian colonial attitudes towards Congolese peoples by simplifying the diversity and complexity of precolonial societies in Democratic Republic of the Congo in favor of a structure which prescribed that men be the sole providers of their families and women bear and raise children (Wilson 1982: 160-61). According to authenticité, “[t]here are two authentic images of women. The ideal woman is a mother and housekeeper firmly under the authority of her husband, kinsmen, and ultimately the president himself … Existing alongside … is the image of woman as prostitute and breaker of traditions” (Wilson 1982: 162). The representation of the ideal woman as controlled by men is also reinforced by Pentecostal-Charismatic Christianity (one of the most dominant versions of Christianity in Kinshasa), which portrays virtuous Christian women as femmes soumises (submissive women). The home and the church are considered the acceptable spaces for these women to occupy. While Pentecostal-Charismatic Christianity allows for social mobility and expansion by enabling women to hold leadership positions and by encouraging women to network with other women, these allowances occur only in the church community and not in the general public (Pype 2016: 393, 402, 407). This reinforces the idea that women's places outside the home and church are unacceptable.Further academic literature on women's work in Kinshasa suggests that women who are independent from male kin and work in public tend to be regarded as women of questionable morals. Tom De Herdt and Stefaan Marysse point out that cambisme, or informal foreign currency exchange, was dominated by women from the early 1970s to early 1990s in Kinshasa. Initially, cambistes (people who take up cambisme) engaged in smuggling between Brazzaville and Kinshasa; the profession later changed to just changing money for clients. Significantly, De Herdt and Marysse call cambistes “free women,” explicitly referencing La Fontaine's aforementioned study. Since cambistes tend to be “single, widowed[,] or divorced,” they fit (in the authors’ view) La Fontaine's description of femmes libres as independent from fathers and husbands, and dependent on business with men who were not kin (1999: 244-46, 248). As with prostitution, cambisme offered women the opportunity to accumulate money, though it came at a cost to their reputation. While camvbistes are described as physically attractive, they were seen as “speculators” and “insincere people” (De Herdt and Marysse 1999: 250). Lesley Nicole Braun adds that the work cambistes perform is highly visible and public; therefore, they require protection from thieves and policemen. Thus, women who are cambistes might depend on sexual relationships with influential men to gain support and security. This entrenches the idea that women working in public are morally suspect because they might offer sexual favors to men (who are not their husbands) in exchange for protection (2018: 30-31).Since women in Kinshasa today have access to higher levels of education (which they were historically denied), they are able to enter new professions such as journalism and politics. However, professions such as these require women to be in public, to be mobile, and to extend their social networks beyond their kin relationships. Since they are in the view of the public and are highly visible, women who are journalists and politicians are accused of having resorted to sexual relationships with men in order to obtain these prestigious positions. Thus, the credentials and competence of women working as journalists and politicians are called into question. Interestingly, Braun also brings up the point that not all women exposed in the public experience this suspicion. Women in the markets, spaces which are public, do not face the criticism that women working as journalists and politicians encounter. Since women in the markets are not visible in the sense that journalists and politicians are (i.e., not in the media), they are not regarded as promiscuous and unvirtuous (2018: 31-34).13 Iyenda adds that women also work as street food sellers. Like women trading in the markets, they are also visible to the public eye, but cooking and selling foodstuffs are viewed as acceptable activities for women (2001: 237). Thus, women who want to pursue professions, like journalism and politics, which afford economic freedom, are faced to choose between their career and their reputation (Braun 2018: 23).Since they are highly visible, sapeuses are subject to the scrutiny and criticism other women who work in public encounter. Daniele Tamagni's 2009 photo essay, “Gentlemen of Bacongo,” describes the reluctance women might have in joining La SAPE:Thus, Tamagni suggests that sapeuses are not as prevalent as sapeurs due to societal pressures, and that women who are sapeuses are mainly “wives and girlfriends” of sapeurs. The gender disparity in La SAPE seems to be reflected in the space allotted to sapeuses in Tamagni's photo essay, which consists of the text reproduced above and one photograph of a sapeuse. Moreover, the passage insinuates that they dress up only among other members of La SAPE and do not participate in much more public events, such as competitions, which draw audiences who are not members of La SAPE.14MacGaffey and Bazenguissa-Ganga's analysis of Congolese traders in Paris is an important scholarly source on sapeuses because they utilize the conversations with sapeuses they met in Paris for their analyses.15 However, since the authors focus mostly on the range of strategies of earning money and the networks that traders build and rely on to coordinate and carry out their operations, they emphasize the types of activities sapeuses do in order to make a living. For instance, they mention a sapeuse named Eloise who “exploited differentials in exchange rates as a means of accumulating the money she needed to get to France” (2000: 45). Other sapeuses, Thérèse and Marie, run a nganda (2000: 91, 151). Another sapeuse they discuss is Josephine, who earns money supplying goods for shopkeepers. In her account to MacGaffey and Bazenguissa-Ganga, she describes what she does with her earnings:The last statement in this quoted section is significant, as the authors label her as a “supplier,” yet Josephine insists that she is “an ambianceur and not a trader.” By focusing on her trading activities, the authors frame her role as a sapeuse as being more of a pastime rather than work; in other words, they insinuate that she engages in trade to enable her to purchase expensive, extravagant clothing to wear to events. What is missing from the study is an investigation of the ways in which being an ambianceur, or a sapeuse, might be an income-generating activity characteristic of the informal or second economy. As this passage suggests, in discussions about the relationship between La SAPE and work, work is talked about in terms of acquiring griffes. This is achieved by having another job and/or participating in illicit activities, such as stealing and/or selling counterfeit clothing (Gondola 1999: 39). In my conversations with sapeuses, La Princesse said that in addition to being a part of La SAPE, she sells clothing in a boutique, while Mama Mineur told me that she sells fish in the market, Place de la Victoire.16While these sapeuses have other jobs to earn income, I shift the focus to the idea that being part of La SAPE is a form of practical work itself. To elucidate what I mean by work, I draw on Kaja Erika Jorgenson's discussion on La SAPE and work, which is informed by understandings of eighteenth- to nineteenth-century dandyism in England and France. During this time, dandies were understood to be self-made, White European gentlemen known for the