George Rautenbach asks how President Jacob Zuma has changed from a promising leader to one a growing band of critics wants out.
It was a cold grey Monday morning in Paris in 1999. Being in charge of a presidential visit is a logistical nightmare but this one was easy. No escorts, no bells, no whistles, a low-key visit to address a meeting of the international socialist movement. Our VIP was a very relaxed and no-nonsense person.
When we booked then deputy president Jacob Zuma into his hotel at 7am, just off the Champs-Elysees, his entourage informed us that his suitcase was misplaced and he had a very important presentation to make at 9am, and that without a suit.
In the cold Parisian morning breeze I volunteered and set off on the Champs-Elyees to find a tailor. At first Zuma was fine with the idea that he would be able to explain his relaxed attire to the gathering of renowned international socialists. Zuma came across as a sort of decent fellow, not asking the impossible from those around him.
After covering the length of the Champs-Elysées I found a tailor and brought him to the hotel.
A suit was adjusted for Zuma on the spot. Zuma was friendly, not aggressive and very easy-going and expressed a deep humble appreciation for the effort we made to find him a suit in those early hours in Paris.
I later met him again during negotiations between the Hutus and Tutsis in Bujumbura, Burundi.
He was facilitating direct talks between them at the time.
Nelson Mandela was getting old and Zuma was instructed to assist him.
I remember I once briefed him in Kigali on the position of President (Paul) Kagame. He always listened patiently like a true elder.
Some in his entourage were convinced that these qualities of patience, humbleness and an open consultative approach made him a perfect fit for a candidate to be the next Nelson Mandela.
When we finished the briefing in Kigali we waited patiently to hear what Zuma had to say. After a moment of silence Zuma threw back his head in a sort of contemplating manner sighing: “Oh Africa, my Africa”.
This act was a clear indication of his disillusionment at the time with his African counterparts who entertained themselves with petty politics. I was impressed and liked him. I defended him on many occasions as I came to know him in those days as a down-to-earthhumble person, a sort of likeable fellow.
Returning recently to South Africa after years abroad and seeing how things have developed, I am concerned. I am concerned about the man I met many years ago.
The elder, the sage, the potential wise leader of a nation and, needless to say, the question begs itself what happened to that man? Is it possible that a man who was so gifted in leading discussions for hours between the Hutus and the Tutsis and get them to reach common ground in Burundi would eventually fail so dismally at governing a nation?
What happened to that man?
I think we need to dig deeper and try to understand the flaws that come with democracy. It is not the magic answer and certainly not the answer in many African countries and cultures.
In itself, democracy is dependent on a culture that questions things.
We can safely assume that in some cultures questioning things is just not a priority. We have to accept we are all different. Democracy becomes a system and not an individual.
When I first arrived in Bujumbura, Burundi, where I eventually lived for five years, I was picked up at the airport by an acquaintance of the South African embassy in Kigali.
We had not gone far when the traffic came to a stop. There we sat and the man in the middle of the road held an AK-47, so no sense in getting upset. Asking my new driver what the hold-up was I was told that the president was travelling to the airport.
My next impatient question as a South African almost came naturally: “Why would you allow this?”
The answer was clear almost as if it was a silly question: “He is the president…”
How does this happen then? I have seen it too often in African countries where the leader initially starts out as a father of the nation and is eventually reduced to the head of a clan.
It always starts with good intentions but somewhere along the road they lose that direction and leadership.
The only man I know who would go beyond those around him was Kagame. He, like Mandela, is a leader of a nation and not of a clan, as the interests of his people override that of even his closest confidants.
What does this mean for those who want the head of Zuma? Does it matter if the Republicans or the Democrats win in the US? No, it does not really as democracy creates a system and it is that system that takes over, the lobby.
The same goes for Africa with a small difference. Presidents normally do not find the cream of the crop to surround them, but are normally surrounded by people who want something and who benefit from his presence.
I think back to a time in Bujumbura where I had to brief Zuma on talks with the Hutu rebels. The hallway in front of his humble suite was a buzz with security detachments, protocol people, private secretaries all over the place screaming and shouting, “cancel that meeting”, “the chief should not be bothered!”, “step out of the way”, “the chief cannot talk to him now, he must wait!” - a real beehive.
Once inside it was dead quiet, and Zuma was eating dinner alone.
It dawned on me that he is not the master and commander, the busy outside was dictating his fate.
Makes you wonder what if he falls?
The system will remain and a new chief will take that quiet spot in the suite. For now the masses want blood, and they will get it. Imagine the moment, Zuma falls, but the culture; the system remains. It will take very strong leadership to turn things around. If we do not get that, will we then want more blood?
* The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.
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