Bloody Independence – we wuz robbed! – Part 1 [2019 Edition]

1. I could not help myself but think about my blogpost, ‘Bloody Independence – we wuz robbed’ the other day, that is, after my wife and I were treated to an extraordinary spectacle of a Buddhist nun in full voice giving vent to anger; after a nondescript woman passer-by apparently crossed her. We were going about our lawful business in Taipei City, close to XingTian Temple MRT Station, when it all happened. From where we were standing, the nun gave as good as she got; the resulting blazing row naturally attracted a small crowd, and the strange thing is, it stopped just it had started. I remember thinking whatever it was that got the nun lose her cool so publicly, must have been something serious, very serious indeed; for nuns, especially Buddhist nuns, are renowned the world over for their serenity.

Bloody Independence – we wuz robbed

2. The Buddhist nun’s seemingly out of character outburst, reminded me of an equally strange outpouring of emotions I had with my father during a telephone call back in 2012. The phone call was, as you can imagine, from Kampala, Uganda. It took me by complete surprise, as I was not expecting him to call; we had an arrangement to speak every so often, and his call was outside our agreed schedule. And little did I know it at the time, but that telephone call was to be our last father-son chat. It’s etched in my memory. Father was in a very dark mood when he called; and, after the usual preliminaries of ‘Hi, it’s me!’ he went into what I can only describe as a legitimate rant: “People have been to my house crying to me, ‘Bloody Independence – we wuz robbed!’ But I answered them, ‘we blew it!’ We have ourselves to thank; for we bungled things, and the fault is ours entirely. We must own it. You see, my boy, when we gained our independence from the English in 1962, our hearts got puffed up with self-conceit, self-complacency and self-confidence; we failed to understand the complex relationship between freedom, the rule of law, and democracy. We still don’t get it today! Rather than build viable institutions, that is, institutions that produce leaders who understand the worth of an African life when we had the chance; we instead carried over colonial systems which were designed to produce subjects, with a mind-set of a small-time clerk at best, that is, a small-time clerk who is well satisfied with serving a master regardless of colour.”

Pedlars for Statesmen – they’ve got us by the short hairs!

3. When I thought I could add my two pennies worth of a comment, he continued with his impassioned diatribe: “My dear boy, ours is a land of subjects who are desperately corrupt, who greedily chase after shiny new things, trinkets and all! We should have been more jealous about our freedoms; which is why our generation should, nay, must apologise with sackcloth, dust, and ashes, to your generation and your generation’s children’s children… I was there when our country gained her independence on 9^th October, 1962… I saw it all. And my, oh my, what a spectacle! What joy! But our generation grew smug and careless; we failed to preserve our freedom pure and entire. Look at us now! In the place of statesmen, we have pedlars who have sold us down the river – lock, stock and barrel! Our country is broken in pieces; its liver, heart, and brain are dying before our very eyes; our days are now filled with fretting, grieving, or fearing. Not a single day passes away without some vexation, some hurry, some disorder or other. A fine mess we have made… they really have the country by the short hairs… so much for independence…”

Under orders to shoot on sight

4. At the end of March in 2013, I received a short e-mail from my half-brother in Scotland announcing that father had yielded to the frailties of old age; he had gone on a journey, a journey to his long home, as is the way of all the earth, the way that all of us must go, sooner or later. He is now sleeping with his fathers in the land of his birth. The news found me in Taipei, Taiwan; I was, at the time, trying out living in Taiwan to see if I could make a success of basing myself on the Island for a new venture that I had long contemplated. The last time my father and I saw each other in the flesh, was at great personal risk to him; he broke the severe terms of his ‘bind-over’ as a persona non grata, imposed upon him by the new revolutionary liberation government in Uganda; to escort me to Entebbe International Airport. The trip to the airport was filled with much drama. When the car I was travelling in approached the last checkpoint before reaching the grounds of the airport proper, some overzealous National Resistance Army soldiers, with their AK 47s at the ready, almost shot me; for they mistook me for my father, as both he and I shared exactly the same names. The young men got worked up, believing that they had finally got their man, that is, the real Mr Kamugasa, red-handed in the process of breaking his ‘bind-over’ order. It appears they were under strict orders to shoot on sight if they caught him breaking the said order.

Lost in translation

5. It so happened that my Scottish step-mother, my natural mother and her sister, my aunt (both of whom are now deceased – they had been especially invited for the occasion), were travelling in the same car as me; they were reduced to pleading with the solders to spare my life amid much shouting, it seemed an impossible task on the face of it, as the soldiers mostly spoke a mixture of Kinyarwanda and Runyankole, a few spoke a combination of Luganda, Kiswahili and a little English. You cannot begin to imagine how grateful we all were that both my mother and aunt happened to be from Buganda; they naturally took over the negotiation, engaging those soldiers in Luganda directly; two Church of Uganda priests (also from Buganda), who were travelling in a different car in our convoy, came over to add their weight in support. But the heated argument was finally put to an end when my poor exasperated Scottish step-mother waded in, with my aunt playing the interpreter, I cannot remember the exact words, but she asked the solders a very simple to the effect: “Is it really possible that my husband could possibly be the same age as this boy, my step-son? Just look at him and ask yourselves whether this child is really my husband?”

A kiss from a desperate father

6. Common sense finally got the better of the solders, and they relented, letting us through at the last minute. It is a complete mystery to me how my father managed to give them the slip, not once, but twice; it appears he did, rather successfully. Thus did my step-mother and I race through the check-in process, with some sympathetic immigration officials helping us along the way; in order for us to catch the British Airways plane, which was by this time preparing to taxi down the runway to take off, we boarded in the nick of time. Understandably, there was not much time to say our formal long goodbyes that are typical in African culture, but in the midst the chaos, I remember very clearly my father grabbing hold of me, with an embrace so tight that it felt like he was crushing the life out of me, kissing me with all the emotions of a desperate man; he probably had some premonition that we would never see each other again. That kiss left a powerful impression on me; a childless man that I am, I can only surmise that that kiss betrayed the extraordinary love only a father can have for a son. That was back in 1987. It will always be my bitterest regret that I never had the chance to pay him the honours a son should to a father. Both those events and the poignant telephone call came to my remembrance when one of my executive students asked me a rather curious question during our executive evening class, namely, “What is the matter with Africa’s dictators?”

A very bitter freedom fighter from Zimbabwe

7. In answer, let me tell you about a debate I once had with a certain Zimbabwean gentleman in the 1990s, professional discretion prevents me from naming him; for as it happened, he too asked the same question. Our conversation is imprinted on my memory for one singular fact which I must now relate. It transpired that the gentleman had been one of those black African negotiators who had gone up to Lancaster House in London, England, to agree a settlement, the ‘1979 Lancaster House Agreement’; which saw the end of white minority rule in the colony of Southern Rhodesia, and, an independent African state of Zimbabwe was thus born on 18th April 1980. I well remember how as a school boy back in Uganda, taking part in the celebrations marking Zimbabwe’s first Independence Day. As an aspiring lawyer at the time in the 1990s, I felt very privileged indeed to come face to face with a genuine African freedom fighter, who happened to be a lawyer as well. But he was a man full of many regrets. He regretted bitterly his part in the whole process leading up to majority rule in Zimbabwe; for he had grown totally disillusioned with what independent Zimbabwe had turned out to be. He was sorry for his part in drawing up the constitution document, which, in his own words, “entrusted unbridled executive powers in the hands of one man.” He felt God had given him a chance; “the one chance”, as he put it, to make a material difference in the fortunes of his countrymen, but, again in his own words, “had blown it.” This jaw dropping revelation stunned me. Listening to him speak was as if I was listening to my own father speaking. My father had shared exactly the same sentiments many years before, but unlike my father, this gentleman had been a participant in the formation of independent Zimbabwe; whereas my father was a young man at Uganda’s independence, and therefore played a minor role, if any.

Cut from the same cloth

8. We went on to have many debates afterwards and, in all our encounters, the same question kept coming up again and again, namely, “What is the matter with Africa’s dictators?” Many years after those debates, the gentleman’s erstwhile friend and colleague, Mr Robert Mugabe, turned from bad to worse, ruling Zimbabwe with an increasingly vice-like grip on power until; that is, his unceremonious overthrow in 2017 by his former right hand-man, and the keeper of his secrets, Mr Emmerson Mnangagwa. It appears that Mugabe and Mnangagwa had fallen out over succession plans to the presidency of Zimbabwe, with Mugabe preferring instead his wife, Grace Mugabe, to anyone else. I well remember seeing joyous jubilations on the streets of Harare, the capital city of Zimbabwe, but I personally did not feel that the time for celebrations had really come. I only kept thinking about my Zimbabwean friend and wondered what the future held for him, his children and grandchildren and for the country in general. And I was right to be concerned; for Mr Mnangagwa has thus far shown himself to be nothing but a continuation of Mugabe’s rule. The two men appear to be cut from the same cloth after all; it probably explains why they got on so well in the first place and for so many years, that is, the entire period of Mugabe’s presidency. There is little sign that things have improved for the lot of ordinary Zimbabweans, the democratic deficits which existed during Mugabe’s rule, are still in place. The so-called African renaissance which got many so excited both on the continent and abroad, following the momentous events which saw Nelson Mandela walk a free man after spending 27 years in prison; the long queues in the first ever multi-racial election in South Africa in 1994; and, Mandela stepping down after serving as the first ever black president of South Africa for a mere 5 years; seem to be a distant memory now. South Africa herself appears to be on the verge of going the way other African countries have gone. So what indeed is the matter with Africa’s dictators?

South Africa – a notable exception

9. Having now taken the time to consider the question carefully, I should like to start by making it clear for the record that Africa is an African problem. The continent’s problems are as myriad as they are manifold. Any solution must therefore emerge from within Africa. Fairtrade, debt relief, the introduction and/ or the removal of subsidies, Aid, Making Poverty History, and, the suchlike other schemes, wonderful though they are; they are not the solution, they cannot be. They are, for want of a better expression, a mere Band-Aid merely applied onto an ancient African wound – a wound that is festering year upon year! But South African, despite her many failings which have recently come to light is, a notable exception. The said failings in South Africa, chief of which is the growing corruption in her institutions, are but a worrying sign; this sign is by no means an indication that she is on the same trajectory as other African countries. For South Africa, unlike many other African countries, enjoys a robust rule of law, which is buttressed by an independent judiciary. Moreover, South Africa boasts an excellent education infrastructure, that is the envy of Africa; she enjoys a free press, the like of which is not seen anywhere else on the continent; she has a world-leading health care infrastructure; a remarkable and strong economy (despite the fact that the International Monetary Fund has lowered South Africa’s projected GDP forecast for 2019 from 1.4% to 1.2% – putting her among the worst economic performers in Sub-Sahara Africa), her economy is still the envy of much of Africa; and, lastly but not least, a dynamic constitutional democracy.

Local government institutions are indispensable to constitutional democracy

10. However, South Africa has many deeply rooted problems which bespeak to her peculiar history: chief of these is the sharp structural inequality among her peoples. A worrying instance may now be told. There is a growing concern making the rounds in the South African diaspora, it is a concern that is likely to cast a dark shadow capable of enveloping the entire country in the coming years; namely, the impeding financial collapse of local government institutions, and most especially, municipalities. This impeding disaster is one which should concern all democracy loving South Africans, both at home and abroad; for if local government institutions were to miscarry for want of proper financial resources, the knock-on effect on the rest of South Africa’s democracy in general would be, catastrophic. Such an event would result in failure of democracy in South Africa, the like of which that has not been seen before in the country, but is a common feature the length and breadth the continent of Africa; namely, a government’s inability to deliver quality services to her citizens, and most especially, to those who are most vulnerable. Local government institutions are an indispensable feature in a constitutional democracy the world over; for they are the primary provider of basic services at a local level, which are essential to a well-run democratic country, and are the environment in which the next generation of leaders is cultured and nurtured in sound democratic values and attitudes. Failure at a local government level will most certainly lead to failure at a national level, which in turn will entrench inequality in South Africa.

11. Apropos to inequality, I recently asked Nic Cheeseman of ‘Democracy in Africa’ what he made of the situation in South Africa alluded to above. Nic Cheeseman is also the professor of democracy and international development at the University of Birmingham, and this is what he said: “Inequality can undermine democracy, especially if we see inequality on the basis of class as well as on the basis of ethnicity and race. A massive gap between the “haves” and the “have not’s” can undermine the legitimacy of the political system and empower populist leaders to mobilise support. This is true all over the world – see the recent emergence of populist leaders in Europe and North America – and is particularly dangerous in a country with a history of social divisions such as South Africa.” I agree! And yet, it is my sincere hope that the legacy of Nelson Mandela, though not of itself a hedge to ward off challenges, which go hand-in-hand with a young democracy such as South Africa, is robust enough to stand the test of time. Accordingly, I remain sanguine that South Africa has within her, the wherewithal to surmount all her present challenges. Indeed, the democratic freedoms wrought by Nelson Mandela, the ANC and others, are South Africa’s and South Africa alone to lose.

A simple but accurate case study – the wind of change

12. But what is the matter with Africa’s dictators, really? The answer, I fear, is as complex as it is surprising. And, since a superficial diagnosis will inevitably lead to proposing a false solution, let me attempt to answer the question with the help of a little artistic licence, and a hint of pathos. Let me tell you a melancholy, fictionalized story; you may find that it has a remarkable ring of truth about it, and may also serve as a cautionary tale of our time. It was during those sunny and exhilarating days of the 1950s, when a sudden gust of wind came out of nowhere to disturb the peace of British colonial interests in Africa. This strange gust of political wind, came to public attention in a speech by the then British Prime Minister, Harold Macmillan, entitled, ‘Wind of Change,’ which he gave to the Parliament of South Africa in Cape Town, on 3^rd February 1960. He said: “The wind of change is blowing through this continent and, whether we like or not, this growth of a national consciousness is a political fact. We must all accept it as a fact, and our national policies must take account of it… As I see it, the great issue in this second half of the twentieth century is whether the uncommitted peoples of Asia and Africa will swing to the East or to the West. Will they be drawn into the Communist camp? Or will the great experiment of self-government that are now being made in Asia and Africa, especially within the Commonwealth, prove so successful, and by their example so compelling, that the balance will come down in favour of freedom and order and justice?” Elsewhere, in the same speech, he went on to say: “We have tried to learn and apply the lesson of our judgement of right and wrong. Our justice is rooted in the same soil as yours – in Christianity and in the rule of law as the basis of a free society. This experience of our own explains why it has been our aim in the countries for which we have borne responsibility, not only to raise the material standards of living, but also to create a society which respects the rights of individuals, a society in which men are given the opportunity to grow to their full stature – and must in our view include the opportunity to have an increasing share in political power and responsibility, a society in which individual merit alone is the criterion for a man’s advancement, whether political or economic.”

Mara, Mara!

13. As the wind of change tore its way across the continent of Africa, picking up all manner of imperial detritus large and small; a certain small colony got swept up in the ensuing excitement. That small colony, which went by the name of Mara, was a protectorate of Great Britain, one of the most extra ordinary European Imperial powers in the modern age. It will always be a matter of speculation as to how the protectorate came by the name, Mara; for the name has its origins in the Hebrew language, and it means bitterness. A wild, and a seemingly far-fetched tale has it (no doubt made up by a mischievous, but far-seeing character), that a group of wondering Jews, ended up in the remote part of the small colony during ‘The Great Jewish Dispersion,’ and the natives regularly overheard the Jews lamenting their tragedy with a word which sounded like Mara, Mara! The tale further goes on to say, that it is probable, that owing to the Jews mixing with the natives of Mara by degrees, were never heard of any more as a distinct group of Israelites. But the word, or shall we say the name Mara, lived on. And, how apt the name Mara has proved to be over the years!

Churchill and Mara – the Pearl of Africa

14. The small protectorate of Mara, was then as now, fair and beautiful; well-watered, a land of many rivers and lakes, which contribute to the fatness of her soil; the bowels of her earth are very rich with a bewildering array of minerals, so rich are they that by recent reckoning, a large and viable deposit of black-gold was discovered. The discovery of black-gold has generated so much speculation that soon, and very soon, Mara will be one of the richest countries on the continent of Africa, thanks in large measure to this new found petrol-dollar wealth! Such was her beauty that she captured the heart of a certain 33-year-old English politician, a Mr. Winston Churchill MP as he was then, who visited her on an errand on behalf of the Crown in 1907. His breath was apparently taken away to such a degree that he immortalized his experience by publishing a book, ‘My African Journey.’ In that book, Churchill compared Mara to a rare pearl; the name stuck, and thus her other name was henceforward, the Pearl of Africa. In his inimitable Churchillian style, this is how he wrote about her: “The scenery is different, the climate is different and most of all, the people are different from anything elsewhere to be seen in the whole range of Africa…what message I bring back…”

Political whippersnappers – dazed by power – and all at sea

15. As well she might be compared to a pearl; for there was none quite like her in all the imperial possessions of that great imperial power except for India. And, during the colonial era, her capital city, Impala, was the envy of Africa. But in a few short decades afterwards, following the young politician’s visit, the great imperial power was compelled to loosen her grip on the protectorate of Mara, after almost going bankrupt defending her sovereignty during the Second Great War. But, and to the astonishment of many, the imperial power emerged victorious from the war, but her victory came at a considerable cost; her hitherto seeming invincibility was gravely enfeebled, she became politically impotent in the management of her colonies; a point, which many young political whippersnappers throughout her colonies took notice of.

16. The imperial victory, as it happened, coincided with a growing clamour for freedom among her many colonial possessions, of which the protectorate of Mara was but one. And so it was that in 1962, the small protectorate of Mara did with a great deal of precipitation, successfully shake off the yoke of the imperial power. But, alas, in winning her apparent independence, she stumbled onto the world stage in a daze like a rabbit caught in the headlights; for her young leaders, many of whom were politically still wet behind the ears, were dreadfully ill prepared for the extraordinary weight of challenges which awaited them. They had no practical experience at the fiendishly nebulous business of nation building, thus forging a national identity out of desperate and diverse tribes who had been thrown together by the departing colonial masters, proved to be an exceedingly tall order for them.

17. But it fared much worse for the poor young leaders; they were hopelessly unable to imitate the colonial masters in the dark arts of divide and rule, a strategy, for which the English are particularly famous. In the end, when the colonial masters departed the political scene in Mara, they left behind them no credible or deep-rooted framework by which to manage the complex relationship between freedom, the rule of law and democracy; a concern, which the ‘Wind of Change’ speech mentioned above, had accurately forewarned. Accordingly, the new leadership was sadly all at sea; they were like dry leaves floating upon the water, they had no depth or breadth, no root whatsoever! This then was the milieu in which a new independent sovereign state on the continent of Africa was born – bearing a new name, The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara. Great expectation there was, no doubt, of this new independent African republic by her diverse peoples.

A poisoned chalice

18. Those know not what power is that grasp at it, so much, so very much. With the benefit of hindsight, it is now no longer a surprise to a thoughtful observer that what happened next was patently inevitable. But it could have been worse, much worse. For no sooner than independence was wrested out of the collective hand of colonial masters, than a thick black cloud gathered above The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara; it was pregnant with a horrible tempest, a tempest of dictatorship and oppression. At length, the alluring presidential chair, which in the eyes of many Africans may as well be a crown, soon lost its shine as the choicest of its flowers and jewels grew dim. The presidential chair’s upholstery, according to those who have sat in it, felt as if it was stitched together with thorns; fatal to those who aspired to it, reducing it to nothing but mere dust, an office which only a chancer would speculate upon. Thus did The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara endure by degrees one oppressive dictator after another; it was no wonder that in a few short decades after gaining her independence, a major rebellion broke out, which quickly gained head under the pretence of putting a full stop to dictatorship and impunity in Mara; espousing exaggerated hopes that Mara too might one day stand tall as a peaceful democratic nation, a bastion of the rule of law and freedom of the individual at the heart of Africa.

Nothing is more offensive to nature than an insolent beggar on horseback

19. I have heard it said that the law of gratitude is one of nature’s laws. At the head of the rebellion in Mara, as it happened, was a wily young man who took for himself the title, freedom fighter; and about whom it is whispered in certain quarters in the republic, that he was once a destitute refugee from one of the impoverished neighbouring countries. Word has it that his destitute family was received into the country by a prominent Mara family with open arms. The prominent family, it is said, sheltered him man and boy, clothed and educated him; he was thus raised up as one of their own children, part of the extended family as it were, after an ancient charitable custom unique in that part of Africa. And, if what is said of him is true, that is, if can be independently corroborated that he was indeed a refugee; then, speaking as a refugee myself, all that can be said is that there is nothing more offensive to nature than an insolent beggar on horseback. For it would seem that his over-familiarity with his host family and peoples of Mara has bred in him contempt for his benefactors. For he has grown wise in his own conceit, repaying his benefactors with disloyalty – a point which will become manifest in the unfolding story below. Such is the background that it is fitting to make four observations about the wily young man who grew up to become a freedom fighter, the liberator as it were of The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara.

Embraced by many – both at home and abroad

20. The first observation to make is this: unlike other rebellions abroad on the continent of Africa, which were routinely condemned by the international community, the wily freedom fighter’s rebellion was most unusually embraced by many, including well educated Africans, thus giving him the credibility, he craved both at home and abroad. Secondly, he was then as now, a proven political survivor, and a man of great guile: whose extraordinary deeds bespeak the fact that he neither fears God nor regards man; he even dares the Almighty to do his worst, will have his will, his way in spite of the Almighty, and will not be controlled by any law, not even a conscience. An instance to illustrate this point may be mentioned here: Under his long iron grip onto state power in The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara, he has demonstrated an extraordinary capacity of disregard for human life that he has committed countless human rights abuses upon the people of Mara, to such a degree that he is probably the only African leader to date, about whom it appears the International Criminal Court is totally powerless. He is above international law. He for instance ordered an attack on a minor king’s palace for apparent insubordination, in which countless people lost their lives, to a deafening chorus of silence in the world community. Evidently, the lives of poor black Africans in a faraway corner of Africa are of very little account, they are expendable.

The go-to man

21. Thirdly, following on from the above, he was and still is, a remarkable illusionist: for after seizing power, he has successfully persuaded people both at home and abroad, that The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara, small as she is, is a major player on the global stage; world leaders, that is, leaders in business, politics, the Aid industry, including a coalition of desperate evangelicals from the USA (so-called born-again preachers of the gospel of wealth, health and prosperity), regularly conference with him upon weighty affairs concerning the great lakes region of Africa. In addition, his munificence at home, no doubt at the tax payer’s expense, has earned him the moniker, the ‘Brown-envelope benefactor of the Mara!’ The presidential budget, which is allegedly intended to maintain him in the manner to which his is still accustomed to, now includes a budget within a budget, which is ear-marked specifically for ‘operation wealth creation’ programme(s); this budget apparently, outstrips all other considerations when it comes to dividing up the national fiscal cake. His lines have indeed fallen in pleasant places for him.

A very unlikely capitalist

22. Finally, he is remarkable for one further attribute: in all the recorded political history of The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara, there has never been a leader quite like him; he started his political career as an out and out Marxist. I have heard it said in some quarters that if he were to be cut with some blade or other in his early revolutionary career; it would be found that the blood oozing out of the wound was nothing but communism at its purest. But, alas, that was a long time ago; for upon capturing state power, the freedom fighter suddenly embraced capitalism; so much so that his conversion to capitalism is such that it would cause even the most seasoned capitalist the world over, to blush. He is thus a convenient agent in the emerging ‘Great Game’ in the fast-changing global stage; in which the new scramble for Africa appears to be gaining head, with global powers jostling one another in the urgent business of carving up Africa for a second time – no doubt under the pretense of helping her – thanks to cheap loans and development aid.

The casting of the die

23. Such were his derring-do antics that in rolling the dice in the early 1980s, following a major disappointment at the national ballot box, he played an exceedingly clever game; it entailed preparing a deceit, in which he pretended to protect those whom he planned to overthrow, even signing a peace treaty to international acclaim, to more effectually capture state power. His luck held however; for the gamble paid off. Alas, this fictional tale has yet to run its full course before giving up the ghost, and therefore, it will not be possible for me to go into sundry particulars of his rule at this stage; no doubt when historians come to assess his rule, it will be found that his government was of a piece with the beginning. Suffice to say however, after more than three decades in the presidential chair, the wily freedom fighter has made good on his long-cherished desire to remain in power for as long as possible; for he successfully prevailed upon legislators in the Parliament of Mara, thanks his presidential shilling, to change the constitution, by removing the last barrier to his stated ambition. Accordingly, the interim report card is brief, but makes for depressing reading.

The Interim Report Card

24. Here we have the interim report card; it may be summarized as follows: “At first many found the president eminently serviceable and made light of the manner of his rise to state power; but, after the initial euphoria had worn off, they began to feel the smart of his iron fist, and then they cried under his oppression who before had laughed…Thirty three years of continuous rule later, it is now self-evident that craft and serpent-like subtlety do not always effect the wonders they pretend to, namely, ‘fundamental change,’ ‘industrialization’, ’middle income status’ and the such like… Oh! How the beauty in the pearl is stained, and all her glory, all her joy, sunk and gone… The freedom fighter’s intense selfishness is the ruin of The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara, and will for a certain expose her, leaving her in the position of a sitting duck – wide open to ancient tribal animosities, extreme inequality, identity politics the like we are now witnessing across Europe, and most probably, anarchy…proof indeed that power without beneficence, is fatal to both the oppressor and subjects alike; and that high education which does not transform the mind for the better, is but the incarnation of evil.”

The burden of naivety

25. So what can we learn from the trials and tribulations of the Pearl of Africa, The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara? It is often the case that what we wish we most readily believe. It follows therefore, that those that will be destroyed are first deceived, and none are so effectually deceived as those that deceive themselves. The desire to be rid of one dictator or other renders a people to be more susceptible to be deceived leading to many unintended consequences. This desire to be rid of a dictator, any dictator, it must be admitted, is perfectly reasonable considering what dictators get up to; it is especially urgent among those peoples who through dint of circumstances are reduced to a state of panic in their thinking. Thus many put upon people are easily provoked into acting precipitously; proving the correctness of that old saying, the descent to hell is smooth and easy.

26. But the return to see those legendary African blue skies, however, is where the real challenge and work truly lies. This is what happened in The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara, they were led into the hasty installation of the wily freedom fighter in the presidential chair. His first presidential speech pledged many wonderful things which were sweet to the unsophisticated ear; they included a plan for ‘fundamental change’ in the way The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara’s government was to be administered. The assembled crowds cheered themselves into a state of delirium, transported as it were, to cloud nine in heavenly joy, thanks no doubt to the intoxicating sound of those promises; the entire country was big with expectations of a better, brighter future.

Corruption – malignant and epidemic

27. But the black cloud did return: for those ecstatic shouts of joy were soon replaced with the deafening silence of despair. And, as the wily freedom fighter waxed great with age, he has not only become obnoxious to the peoples of The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara; but, he has also, and by degrees, developed a taste for corruption. There is none like him in all the recorded history of The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara: so ingenious is he that he has actually turned corruption into some sort of lucrative business. He in time sold himself to corruption so completely, that he has made himself a perfect slave to it, and is as much at its beck and call as ever any servant can be to a master. His legitimization of corrupt practices has over the years, slowly but surely drawn in ordinary government officials and citizens, into the dark web of illegitimate criminal practices. The result has been the entrenchment of a new kind of predatory capitalism, within the governing elite and society at large. Corruption is accordingly a unique evil of the freedom fighter’s legacy; it is malignant and epidemic. Truly remarkable: so much for a man who is a servant to none!

28. Moreover; in pursuit of his much-vaunted plan for fundamental change, he has made a virtue of surrounding himself with seemingly well-educated Africans, some of whom professing Christians, to the dishonour of the blood of the son of God, making bad worse. Now if a Christian cheats, overreach, breaks his word and betrays his trust, the Christian faith must suffer by it; and whom are we trust if not a Christian, one that, as we are led to believe, should be without guile? And it gets worse, much worse; among the educated African elite surrounding him, you will find the vain and the light-headed, the scum and scoundrels of Mara, men of ruined fortunes, the giddy heads and the profligates. They often masquerade as investors of one kind or other. But few would ordinarily begrudge the wily freedom fighter this particular virtue, were it not for the appalling mischief it has wrought, which is, the entrenchment of corruption in Mara as noted above. Today all in Mara are like fish in the sea of corruption; they are at home in corrupt waters; to the degree that it is doubtful that ordinary citizens of Mara will ever regain the capacity to savour the fresh air of freedom – the kind of freedom which is free of corruption.

The silencing of the judiciary

29. I have heard it said that corruption is like a cancer growing inside a living organism; which in this particular instance, The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara. It is best dealt with at first, before it gets head and pleads prescription. There is no way to fight corruption except by removing the corrupt; if a corrupt person be not punished, those that should punish him make themselves responsible, else the dangerous disease of corruption spreads. An instance, which is a scandal to high heaven, may now be mentioned. The wily freedom fighter, with the help of his aficionados in the strange mysteries of bush warfare, has become so mighty a fly that he breaks through the cobwebs of the law of the land of Mara, which hold only the little ones. His power is such that he even brow-beats the judiciary and makes them do his bidding. The common pleas between party and party, in which the judges should ordinarily take great care that none whose cause is just should fare the worse for their weakness, nor for their being destitute of friends, fatherless, widows, stand neglected; rather, the judges in Mara now actively pervert justice, defrauding citizens of their legal rights. The much-publicized Commission of Inquiry into land is probably the best testament we have as to the depth to which The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara has sunk in corruption.

30. It should be a duty of the first importance for those in the judiciary to be advocates for those who cannot speak for themselves and have no friends to speak on their behalf. Clearly, we may suppose that the judges in Mara have never heard of that great legal maxim, namely, ‘fiat Justitia, ruat caelom’ – let justice be done, though the heavens should fall asunder. The pity of it is that there is none among the well-educated African elite in Mara; brave enough to tell the wily freedom fighter plainly, that those who deliberately corrupt the three great pillars of state, which are, the executive, the legislature and the judiciary, do play with fire; for the wheel will often return upon them to their own hurt. Indeed, so strange, so sudden, frequently, are the vicissitudes of human affairs, and such the turn of the wheel, that the spokes soon change places.

Corruptions shrivels the soul – dehumanizing all

31. It is precisely because of this mischief of corruption, that the wily freedom fighter’s lasting legacy, when historians come to evaluate it, it may be found that, in addition to being an expert at using a thousand arts at concealing villainy such as genocide, he is corrupt to the core. Such is the depth and extent of corruption in Mara that it defies belief: corruption has reduced the citizens of Mara to the status of mere beggars, spectators whose only pleasure in life is to feast their eyes upon the ill-gotten riches publically flaunted. The citizens of Mara are so impoverished, that is, not a single one of them is now fit to tie the laces of the wily freedom fighter’s boots. Long is the people’s heart hot within them; and, while the wily freedom fighter and his aficionados feast, the fire burns, and the more so for being stifled and suppressed. Their suffering has so dehumanized them that only recently, a state minister in the government of The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara, tragically lost his two young children following a drowning accident in a swimming pool at his home, that many desperate citizens of Mara took to social media to celebrate their death, they did not condole him for his loss.

For more details see: https://www.aljazeera.com

32. To be continued. In part 2 [2019 Edition] of this post, I will pray in aid the Latin proverb, in which it is said, “opportunity has hair in front, behind she is bald; if you seize her by the forelock you may hold her, if suffered to escape, not Jupiter himself can her catch her again;” in order to show that the wily freedom fighter may be, strange as it may seem, the best gift providence has conspired to bestow upon The Democratic People’s Republic of Mara.

Editor’s Note: This post was originally published on 12th June 2017 and has been completely revamped and updated for accuracy and comprehensiveness.