Today marks the effective end of Zambian elections; though Tuesday (20 September) was the official holiday, government offices effectively sit still until the winner is announced. Well, this morning at 00:34 (23:34 GMT), the Chief Justice of Zambia announced the opposition Patriotic Front (PF) candidate, Michael C. Sata, as the winner of the 2011 presidential elections.
Cheers broke out immediately across Senanga sufficient to wake its lone blogger. I switched on the office lights, turned on the state television channel (ZNBC), and called for our night guard to come in and see the news. We watched in silence for the few minutes they continued transmitting from Mulungushi House (Lusaka), repeating the news with a level of spontaneity that I'd never seen on that channel. They then switched back to the evening movie (it appeared to be Cocoon, ironic given the age of the candidates); I bid Mr. Malazhi goodnight, turned off the set, and drifted back off to sleep for a few hours to the sound of cheering coming from the market area.
I woke this morning (again) and checked ZNBC; unlike 2008, when the American media was gushing about Obama's victory, ZNBC is still showing movies. I was briefly taken aback by the lack of news coverage, but then I realized that most of the writers / news editors were MMD functionaries or under specific direction by the governments' ruling party. With the new regime, they are pretty much out of a job ... the past year has seen little coverage (other than negative) of PF or Sata himself, so I'm sure he won't keep them around.
What happens next? Well, the Zambian Constitution stipulates that the announced winner has to be inaugurated within the day following announcements; no lame ducks to speak of in Africa. As in nature, leaders abhor a [power] vacuum. Sata will be sworn in later, form a cabinet, and then the fun begins. Stories abound of him back during the Chiluba era, when Sata was the Minister of Health; stories abound of him showing up at hospitals unescorted and unannounced to inspect conditions. Supposedly, anyone he found asleep, late to work, playing grabass to the detriment of the patients, etc., etc., was summarily fired. Hence, the outright fear of him in recent elections on the part of government workers; even if they retain their jobs, they will be on a heightened sense of awareness of punitive consequences for poor performance.
Who knows? It's all speculation from here forward and I don't care to enter into that realm. My sole hope is that Sata does not engage in a witch hunt of the former ruling party. One of the reasons that a peaceful transition of power in Africa is such a rare occurrence is due to the fact that the sitting party is literally scared to death of losing power under real or perceived threats of persecution by a new government (note the Ivory Coast last year). Zambia has its own precedent for that; after stepping down peacefully in 1991, the first Republican President, Dr. Kenneth Kaunda was harried constantly, briefly imprisoned, and later disqualified from running for office in a constitutional amendment that forbid persons with non-Zambian parentage from contesting. (Brief aside ... I find that last one particularly puzzling, as all these old guys were born in the colonial era when technically, there was no Zambia (or Malawi or Zimbabwe)). On the Machiavellian level, it worked quite well; Kaunda's party, the United National Independence Party (UNIP) fell apart to the extent that in this election, they might have polled 5,000 votes. (Brief aside #2 ... They have the coolest chitenges, which feature a massive, multicolored torch).
So why did MMD lose? Were people tired of perceived corruption? The massive and well-publicized influence of Chinese interests on the ruling party? The progressively one-sided election coverage in the state media? The hard hitting opposition media? Tired of the same party for 20 years? Because they liked Sata and his quick wit, stances on issues, etc.? Hard to say, but likely a combination of all of them ... and the simple answer that they didn't get enough votes.
The long and short is that Zambia is standing tall on the highest hill on the Continent today; not because of President-elect Sata himself (who is in what I wouldn't consider an enviable position as President-elect of a very poor country), but because there has a peaceful, democratic transition of power from the ruling party to the opposition under a government institution. Aside from a few riots and a single death in the Copperbelt, there has been no clatter of AK-47's, no refugees, no inter-tribal or internecine violence ... Zambia retains its status as a peace-loving nation.
No matter; millions of rural Zambians (and the thousands here in Senanga) are soon to resume eking their living from the soil which cares little for man's elections. Back to work.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Election Day, Senanga
As if I needed it, I was reminded that the five-year process was happening today by a text from my accountant promoting votes for one of the parties.
Due to my role as a Peace Corps Volunteer, and therefore an invited guest of the Zambian government, there are great proscriptions on what I can say about politics in Zambia, so I appropriately will say nothing of the parties themselves. I'll just say what I hope ... I hope there's no real violence; Africa is replete with tales of bloody elections (e.g., Kenya in 2008, every election in Zimbabwe since 1983, Ivory Coast last year, etc., etc., etc.). Zambia seems to be the one exception to all that ... I can't ascribe it to anything other than Zambians' collective love of, and pride in, their status as a "peaceful nation". Also, as anyone who's been here can tell you, the country is so darn big and empty that violence has less of tendency to spread outside of urban areas, nor can accurate news of violence or chicanery spread from the outside-in. Though the use of the mobile internet has grown, this sort of connectivity has remained limited to urban areas.
In reality, it's not today that's "tricky" (to quote the latest Zambian buzzword to describe the election). The interesting days will be Thursday or Friday, when the Electoral Commission of Zambia (ECZ) announces the results. That's when this weary, wandering agriculturalist will hold his breath and earnestly pray.
Due to my role as a Peace Corps Volunteer, and therefore an invited guest of the Zambian government, there are great proscriptions on what I can say about politics in Zambia, so I appropriately will say nothing of the parties themselves. I'll just say what I hope ... I hope there's no real violence; Africa is replete with tales of bloody elections (e.g., Kenya in 2008, every election in Zimbabwe since 1983, Ivory Coast last year, etc., etc., etc.). Zambia seems to be the one exception to all that ... I can't ascribe it to anything other than Zambians' collective love of, and pride in, their status as a "peaceful nation". Also, as anyone who's been here can tell you, the country is so darn big and empty that violence has less of tendency to spread outside of urban areas, nor can accurate news of violence or chicanery spread from the outside-in. Though the use of the mobile internet has grown, this sort of connectivity has remained limited to urban areas.
In reality, it's not today that's "tricky" (to quote the latest Zambian buzzword to describe the election). The interesting days will be Thursday or Friday, when the Electoral Commission of Zambia (ECZ) announces the results. That's when this weary, wandering agriculturalist will hold his breath and earnestly pray.
Purchasing rice ...
Sorry for the hiatus, readers. I've been so knocked out after work that spending anytime on the Internet beyond responding to work or family emails. Part of it is due to the heat, which has attained the Philistine levels we last felt in February ... walking through the sand to work takes 35 to 40 minutes one-way, and the walk back after a day of work saps any energy I have left.
It's not only the work and the sun that leaves me beat; to be frank, I'm weary ... to paraphrase Bilbo Baggins, I feel like butter that's been spread too thinly over bread. Though we've made significant progress at our production site (the rice mill is operating well, the oil press is worn-in, and the peanut butter is still floating along), dealing with setting everything up, writing reports, strategic plans, trying to find markets, and dealing with recalcitrant farmers has me beat. For example, last week, we had set up to make our first big purchase of Supa [Mongu] rice (our preferred variety) up in Liangati along the east bank of Zambezi floodplains. We informed the Zone Chairperson, our contact person who in theory is supposed to inform the Area Farmer Associations (AFAs) in that area. Unfortunately, he told not a single person, not even in passing ... his (and the community's) focus was on the upcoming; a campaign gathering replete with food, drink, and chitenges (and likely money). Our guys went up there to find only one person had gathered rice (he had heard about the purchase whilst in our office the previous week), and he had only told his wife, as he was headed up to Mongu. Therefore, instead of 100 bags of rice, we gathered 13.
We'll try again this week, but if it goes south again, I just don't know what to do. We're coming almost to the farmers' doorstep to purchase their rice at a fair price, but that doesn't make a purchase a foregone conclusion; funerals, rallies, church functions, basically anything will derail a purchase. It's partly because we're operating differently from the Food Reserve Agency depots that have paid staff who are on-duty throughout the week, or briefcase buyers that camp out until their truck is full or barter goods get finished; we try to schedule a specific date and place for our purchases because we have to hire our transport to fetch the crops, and furthermore, you have to pay the guys to inspect, weigh, and re-bag the crops which represents a significant cost. Our farmers' simply don't understand that the logistical costs have to be borne by the cooperative (i.e., themselves) and that impacts the business; they figure that if they miss a day, we can just come back later. Explanations of this to farmers by our Zambian staff members are met with polite nods and murmurs of assent, but no real comprehension; having been fed a steady diet of government-supported maize production, purchase, and consumption, they expect all crop marketing to be entirely subservient to their own arcane schedules.
We'll see ... we paid the seller something like K1,300,000 ($260) as soon as he came back with the Goods Received Note (GRN) yesterday. That's tall tickets for out here, and if people can figure out that we'll pay them good money in good time, maybe the purchasing will pick up.
It's not only the work and the sun that leaves me beat; to be frank, I'm weary ... to paraphrase Bilbo Baggins, I feel like butter that's been spread too thinly over bread. Though we've made significant progress at our production site (the rice mill is operating well, the oil press is worn-in, and the peanut butter is still floating along), dealing with setting everything up, writing reports, strategic plans, trying to find markets, and dealing with recalcitrant farmers has me beat. For example, last week, we had set up to make our first big purchase of Supa [Mongu] rice (our preferred variety) up in Liangati along the east bank of Zambezi floodplains. We informed the Zone Chairperson, our contact person who in theory is supposed to inform the Area Farmer Associations (AFAs) in that area. Unfortunately, he told not a single person, not even in passing ... his (and the community's) focus was on the upcoming; a campaign gathering replete with food, drink, and chitenges (and likely money). Our guys went up there to find only one person had gathered rice (he had heard about the purchase whilst in our office the previous week), and he had only told his wife, as he was headed up to Mongu. Therefore, instead of 100 bags of rice, we gathered 13.
We'll try again this week, but if it goes south again, I just don't know what to do. We're coming almost to the farmers' doorstep to purchase their rice at a fair price, but that doesn't make a purchase a foregone conclusion; funerals, rallies, church functions, basically anything will derail a purchase. It's partly because we're operating differently from the Food Reserve Agency depots that have paid staff who are on-duty throughout the week, or briefcase buyers that camp out until their truck is full or barter goods get finished; we try to schedule a specific date and place for our purchases because we have to hire our transport to fetch the crops, and furthermore, you have to pay the guys to inspect, weigh, and re-bag the crops which represents a significant cost. Our farmers' simply don't understand that the logistical costs have to be borne by the cooperative (i.e., themselves) and that impacts the business; they figure that if they miss a day, we can just come back later. Explanations of this to farmers by our Zambian staff members are met with polite nods and murmurs of assent, but no real comprehension; having been fed a steady diet of government-supported maize production, purchase, and consumption, they expect all crop marketing to be entirely subservient to their own arcane schedules.
We'll see ... we paid the seller something like K1,300,000 ($260) as soon as he came back with the Goods Received Note (GRN) yesterday. That's tall tickets for out here, and if people can figure out that we'll pay them good money in good time, maybe the purchasing will pick up.
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