/ 23 June 2000

The end of an era in Zimbabwean politics?

Mercedes Sayagues

Why was Grace Mugabe sulking during her husband’s final campaign rally in Harare last Saturday? It could have been the low turnout – a mere 5E000 compared with the 100E000 who greeted Robert Mugabe on his return from exile 20 years ago.

Or perhaps it was the three-hour delay in starting, while frantic candidates ordered buses back to bring, by any means, more people into Zimbabwe Grounds at Highfields township.

For whatever reason, the first lady appeared utterly bored and uninterested.

She fidgeted, studied the silver polish on her long fingernails, admired her diamond ring, checked her Rolex, and never hid her boredom. She must have skipped the lesson on attending public events at the Swiss finishing school that groomed her before her 1996 wedding to the president.

She looked stunning in a turquoise gown with white and pink embroidered flowers, matching turquoise turban and shawl. The shoes were a mistake though: low, brown, sensible English shoes more fit for Princess Anne than for the glamorous young wife of an aging despot. The dark stockings were repulsive.

The president wore an impeccably cut grey suit, pale-blue shirt with white collar and dark-red patterned tie with a gold pin. He was not in a good mood either and made no bones about it. He frowned while provincial chair Tony Gara lamely explained people did not come because of work and fuel shortages.

Mugabe droned on about Zimbabwe’s history and against British imperialism, reheating his tired liberation rhetoric from the 1960s. Now and then – mostly railing against whites – he allowed his carefully controlled pitch to soar. He raised his arms, neck tilted back and up so his Hitler-like mustache was thrust prominently in view over a mouth open like an O. He evoked images of the Fhrer’s last demented speeches.

As usual, he blamed economic decline, rising inflation and unemployment on sabotage by the white minority. They number 70E000 or 1% of the population. There are more elephants than whites in Zimbabwe.

For relief, one could admire the dazzling dresses of cloth emblazoned with the party emblem worn by Zanu-PF women candidates, with Mugabe’s face planted squarely on each tit and each bum.

The Women’s League wore white, party T- shirts, headscarves with Mugabe’s face, and red chitenjes. They performed a traditional Shona ceremony: approaching the stage on their knees, they carried a decorated water claypot on their head. Once unburdened of the jug, the women were covered with a chitenje.

Youth at the fringes were not enthusiastic. Some said they had been told to come. Others looked nervously towards the riot police and quickly edged away from journalists without talking.

But many people were there by choice. The Gallup poll commissioned by the Helen Suzman Foundation in February found that 30% of Zimbabweans are staunch Zanu-PF supporters, mostly older and less- educated people.

In the afternoon, Mugabe flew to a rally in Bulawayo, where the turnout was even lower. Then he and the first lady were off to Cairo for a two-day economic meeting. He spends 40% of his time abroad.

The rally was reminiscent of Hastings Banda’s last one before the 1994 elections that ended his lifelong presidency in Malawi. I watched Banda arrive at the foot of the awesome, sacred Mulenje mountain in southern Malawi in his sleek black helicopter, shuffle along a 150m-long red carpet to the stage, and sit on a throne. A commander draped with gold braids, medals and stars kneeled at his feet to dust off his shoes.

The rally was a whirl of colorful chitenjes, much dancing and ululating.

I was fascinated seeing the last triumphal appearance of one of Africa’s legendary despots.

I had the same impression at Mugabe’s Highfields rally, of witnessing the end of an era in Zimbabwe’s politics.