A
derelict reactor echoes Congo's lost energy
National ambition fueled the nuclear
effort.
It is a victim not of the war, but of neglect.
KINSHASA, Congo - Just off a crumbling side street at the University of
Kinshasa campus, Africa's first nuclear reactor quietly decays in a
whitewashed concrete building.
It's not a big reactor: The research facility generates a fraction of
the energy produced by a big commercial power reactor in industrial
countries.
Still, when Laurent Kabila's rebels entered the capital this month,
officials from the International Atomic Energy Agency silently held their
breath, fearful that a stray mortar round might hit the containment
building and cause a radioactive leak.
``We were bracing for the possibility, but luckily that was not the
case," said David Kyd, a spokesman for the atomic agency in Vienna.
The university's reactor instead is more of a long-term casualty, a
victim of the damage inflicted upon Zaire by former President Mobutu Sese
Seko.
``We are in a regretful state as far as money is concerned," said
Professor Malu wa Kalenga, 60, who has run the reactor for 34 years.
The Zairean government stopped funding the reactor nine years ago. It
was shut down in 1992 after the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission blocked
shipment of an essential replacement part, citing the ``economic and
political collapse in Zaire."
Nowadays researchers activate the reactor only at a low level when
inspectors from the international atomic agency make their annual
pilgrimage to count the fuel rods to ensure that no uranium has
disappeared.
``They come here to make sure we are not making the bomb," said
Malu, who received a master's degree from the University of
California-Berkeley in 1962.
The reactor had been largely forgotten until recently, when nearby
residents expressed worries that Mobutu would explode the reactor in an
apocalyptic attempt to take the capital's five million residents down with
him. Even the U.S. Embassy in Kinshasa was unaware of the reactor's
existence until a few months ago.
Malu offered to show the reactor to several visitors this week. But he
was unable to unlock the metal-framed glass doors that seal off the
five-story reactor building, despite trying a handful of keys he had
retrieved from his desk drawer. The visitors had to settle for peering in
through the windows.
The professor, a slight man who has headed Zaire's atomic energy
commission since 1965, said the reactor was a metaphor for the country now
renamed the Democratic Republic of the Congo - a nation with enormous
untapped human and natural resources, squandered by years of neglect.
``It is symbolic of the fact that Zaire is capable of mastering a
difficult technology," said Malu. ``But we are broke. You have to
emphasize: The nation is broke."
Congo wasn't always a basket case.
The University of Kinshasa, founded in 1954, was a formidable
institution when Belgium gave Congo its independence in 1960.
``In the year of independence, this country was stronger economically
speaking than South Africa - even Canada," said Butsana bu Niungu,
63, a physics professor who was drawn to the university's nuclear program.
Butsana said he turned down a post-doctoral fellowship at the
University of Maryland in 1970 to return to Zaire, which was then
undergoing an upsurge in national confidence under Mobutu's leadership.
``At that moment, I believed we had a great deal of things to do in my
country," he said. ``When I see it now from a great distance, I see
it was a big mistake."
Now the university is underfunded and overcrowded - almost 20,000
students are enrolled in a school designed for a third that number. The
official salary for a professor is about $20 a month, which the government
last paid in December. Professors survive on fees paid by parents - and by
moonlighting. Butsana teaches courses at five other universities, allowing
no time for research.
``When you see the reactor, it is the remains of our past
ambition," he said. ``We have to start again. Everything."
The university's first reactor was built in 1959, during the Eisenhower
administration's Atoms-for-Peace Program. Local legend says that Congo
received the Triga I reactor as a reward for producing the uranium that
went to the Manhattan Project, though officials in Vienna say the story is
a myth.
There is little dispute, however, that it was the first reactor built
on the continent. (There are now reactors in Ghana, Egypt, South Africa,
Algeria, Libya and soon in Morocco.)
The university retired the first reactor in 1970 and replaced it with a
more powerful Triga II reactor in 1972. Both reactors were designed by a
California company, General Atomic.
``We built it ourselves," said Malu, pointing to a large picture
of the reactor on the wall behind his desk. Another photograph has been
turned to face the wall - it shows Mobutu wearing his leopard-skin hat and
pressing a button to start the Triga II in 1972.
The current reactor has a capacity of one megawatt of thermal energy,
and Malu said it generated up to 1,600 megawatts for a fraction of a
second when it was permitted to surge or ``pulse." It is unclear what
practical purpose is served by ``pulsing" the reactor, but Malu seems
very proud that the reactor can generate such a strong jolt.
The reactor was primarily used for agricultural research and for
creating radioisotopes for the university hospital. Agronomists irradiated
corn and peanuts with the hope of altering the genetic structure of the
plants and producing improved varieties. Unfortunately, it produced few
meaningful results.
The government's commitment faltered over time.
The university abandoned construction of a three-story laboratory after
running out of money to buy equipment. A rusting construction crane is
still poised over the unfinished building, 20 years later.
The reactor itself also began to deteriorate. The reactor's electronic
systems are 25 years old. Malu said the air purification system designed
to prevent radioactive leaks into the atmosphere is questionable. And the
fuel rods are in danger of corroding.
The international atomic agency is not worried.
``The reactor's perfectly OK, as long as no one without knowledge tries
anything funny," Kyd said from Vienna. ``It can remain dormant
happily and does from year to year."
Despite the university's hopes, Kyd said that the international agency
had no plans to finance the reactor's repair. ``It was an interest of only
a few aging scientists," Kyd said. ``For the time being, it's not a
priority."
But Malu would like to restart the reactor as soon as possible, now
that the country has new leadership.
He said the reactor needed only a new device that measures the core
temperature - an ``instrumented fuel element." Without the device, he
cannot tell if the reactor is overheating. He has been waiting for the
U.S. government to lift the restriction on exporting the part, but the
United States has indicated it will not consider that until there is
political stability in Congo.
``I would be grateful if you can ask President Clinton to send the fuel
element so I can start pulsing the reactor again. . . .," Malu told
an American visitor. ``We know our job. I've been in charge of the reactor
since 1963. We know what we are doing."
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