My name is Rafael Marques de Morais. I am an Angolan investigative journalist, and this week I may be jailed for a book I wrote in 2011 exposing human rights abuses in Angola’s diamond-rich areas of the Lundas.

Tomorrow seven powerful generals, including the minister of state and head of the intelligence bureau of the president, General Kopelipa, will take turns in testifying against me at the start of my trial on nine charges of defamation.

They co-own the private security company whose personnel were the executors of many of the cases of murder and torture I reported in the book. They are also significant shareholders, in a joint venture with the state, of the diamond concession in which all the abuses reported took place.

Champion of freedom defies Angola’s president, generals and the power of diamond companies Read more

I am not afraid, but proud of my work. The first time I sat in a court of law was for calling the president a dictator and corrupt man in 1999. He first had me jailed, and then charged me on the day of my release. I earned a reputation in and out of jail as a human rights defender, simply because, during the 43 days I was incarcerated, I kept exposing the abuses to which I bore witness inside. Jail schooled me on human rights.

Last year, my 13-year-old son asked me why I couldn’t get a job. He was concerned that I was spending so much time in the kitchen on my laptop, although he praises my cooking. Years of government effort to destroy my ability to be independent have confined me to my kitchen. That’s where I do my job nowadays, mindful of the permanent surveillance outside the house and on my communications equipment to ensure my social isolation and cut me off from my sources. It is while chopping onions and crushing garlic that I investigate high-level corruption and human rights abuses in Angola. This is my job. Some wanted me to feel ashamed of being honest, a sentence to poverty and social exclusion. My son felt that pressure too.

I have to explain why these two issues are paramount to me. Human life – unless it is that of a member of the ruling elite – is debased in Angola. This country was one of the 10 fastest growing economies in the world for several years, until 2014. Now it has “achieved” the highest child mortality rate in the world. Because of its abundance of oil and diamonds, used for corruption and PR, such a paradox does not seem to matter at home or abroad.

Where neither political leaders nor the people respect human life, very little else can be attained for the common good. It perpetuates a disconnection between those at the helm, the people and reality; and the rulers feel entitled to abuse power, loot national resources and oppress.

I fight corruption because it is the most sophisticated weapon the regime uses to subdue society, to subvert citizenry.

Being a journalist in Angola is rather problematic whichever way one looks at it. For the majority, who work for the state media, propaganda is the benchmark that guides their work. The regime rewards generously those who act as propagandists, however much these individuals may be loathed by the public.

Then there are the journalists for the small, private media, most of which is under the indirect control of the regime thanks to family connections between the media owners and the political elite. Self-censorship defines this journalism and allows its protagonists to live well. Others criticise to raise the prospects of being co-opted. They cause general indifference.

Finally, there is a third category, of misfits. These are the ones who openly and consistently challenge the regime, and they are polarising figures.

Nevertheless, trying to distinguish fact from fiction in the Angolan media is an everyday exercise. Journalists are mistrusted, but I have committed to investigative journalism to help set a standard of professionalism and create a space for its independence.

As I answer to nine separate charges of criminal defamation, I meditate on the Kafkaesque situations that embroil me. Now, I am not officially being prosecuted for the content of the book but for having lodged a complaint against the generals for their moral responsibility in the events, and it is the state versus me. The generals initially filed a criminal complaint against me in Portugal, and their case was dismissed in 2013. They filed it again in Angola, but under the Angolan constitution I cannot be tried twice for the same facts, even if the earlier case was in Portugal.

Now, my son understands that I have a job and asks: “How can you change this situation?” Although, he also asks me to style the presentation of the food I cook for him. “It should look like gourmet food,” he says.

I have new recipes and I am honing my skills for both of my kitchen activities.