headache
Mercedes Sayagues
To many Zimbabweans, Morgan Tsvangirai is nothing short of a hero. The man stands up to a repressive government. He denounces corruption, defends workers’ interests and rights, and chairs the movement to reform the Constitution.
For his troubles he is bashed on the head and needs stitches. The attack appears ordered by the ruling party, Zanu-PF. A dozen members of his party, the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), have been killed, some viciously tortured. Undaunted, Tsvangirai (pronounced Changarai) is this week campaigning in Masvingo.
The trade unions cancelled May Day celebrations for fear of violence, but Tsvangirai still addressed two rallies in Harare.
Exhausted and hoarse at the end of the day, he told the Mail & Guardian: “We knew Zanu-PF would get violent but not to the extent of these gruesome killings. We are still committed to fighting the elections on political discourse, not violence. As long as we have the people’s confidence, we go on.”
Tsvangirai was born in drought-prone Buhera, south-eastern Zimbabwe, in 1952, the eldest of nine children. His father was a bricklayer. A bright student at Gokomere mission school, he quit studying in 1972 to support his siblings. He worked at a textile mill in Mutare, then at a nickel mine in Bindura.
In 1980 he became a union organiser. He rose through the ranks and became secretary general of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions (ZCTU) in 1988, a post he still holds.
Under his leadership the ZCTU ceased to be an arm of the ruling party and got teeth. In the early 1990s the ZCTU challenged economic policy and lack of democracy. In well-organised national strikes workers defied the government to protest against erosion of their salaries, runaway inflation, rampant corruption and widespread poverty.
In 1998, the National Constitutional Assembly named him chair – a recognition of his stature as leader of the opposition. He became a household name, a symbol of resistance. When he was attacked in December 1998, workers spontaneously downed their tools.
Tsvangirai’s gift is to articulate a vision and direction that captures people’s imaginations. He is a powerful public speaker who delivers memorable quotes, such as: “[President Robert] Mugabe is a demented bus driver, speeding downhill at 150km an hour on a bus without brakes, and we all are the passengers.”
He is married with six children.
By Tsvangirai’s side for the past 10 years is Gibson Sibanda. Lesser-known, Sibanda is a key element in trade union and party dynamics. The quiet, affable Sibanda brokers negotiations, finds middle ground and builds consensus.
Tsvangirai is more authoritative. Sibanda, more consultative, is the coalition-builder behind the scenes, the one who has time to listen.
Together they bring ethnic balance – Sibanda is Ndebele, Tsvangirai is Shona.
Sibanda was born in 1944 in Filabusi, in Matabeleland. Among other jobs, his father was a miner in South Africa. An only child, Sibanda is schooled up to Cambridge level certificates. In 1965 he joined the railways of Zimbabwe. By 1970 he was an active unionist. He joined Zapu, became its welfare secretary and was jailed by the Ian Smith regime between 1976 and 1979.
In 1984 Sibanda was elected president of the five amalgamated railway unions; first vice-president of the ZCTU in 1988 and its president the following year. He still holds the position today.
People who have worked with the two men in the ZCTU, the National Constitutional Assembly and the MDC say both work well in teams, know how to listen and make compromises. This appears to be true – in spite of internal divisions and many attempts by the Central Intelligence Organisation to infiltrate and provoke divisions, the three organisations have remained strong and united.
In leather jackets, caps, and checkered shirts, the two appear as a refreshing alternative to Zanu-PF’s impeccable Savile Row suits. Both are avid readers of history and social science. Both enjoy the company of academics, and many prominent scholars and lawyers have joined the MDC.
Mugabe has dismissed the union leaders
for lacking university degrees. Replies Sibanda: “With something like seven honorary degrees, Mugabe has wrecked the economy.” When Mugabe described the unionists as “mere train drivers”, Tsvangirai laughed: “At least a train conductor kept the train on the tracks.”
Analysts point out that 10 years at the helm of trade unions, combined with the experience at the National Constitutional Assembly, are better preparation for democratic governance than ruling a military movement, like Mugabe.
The two seem above board. Zimbabwe’s intelligence services have tried to find something dishonest about them, but have not been able, or we would have heard about it.
The MDC is the only credible alternative to Mugabe. Why is the African National Congress government so wary of it?
One reason is that Mugabe has successfully projected the image of the MDC as a party ruled by whites. This is not true. All the top six office bearers are black. Of the 30-member executive, three are white. It is true that, for the first time since independence in 1980, whites have dabbled in politics.
But so have hundreds of thousands of blacks who did not bother before for lack of choice.
Internal and regional politics also count. Says Sibanda: “The ANC has its own problems with [the Congress of South African Trade Unions] and does not want to encourage a trade union-based party. While [the Southern African Development Community] is an old man’s club, newcomers are not welcome.”