Source: The Economist
NELSON CHAMISA is whipping up the crowd at an election rally for the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) in Chitungwiza on the outskirts of Harare, Zimbabwe's capital, as the July 31st poll approaches. "A Zanu-PF rally is like a funeral; an MDC rally is like a wedding," the politician says to cheers from supporters in red MDC T-shirts and hats.
The typical MDC supporter has attended more nuptials than wakes. Almost all of those packed into the overflowing stadium look as if they were born after President Robert Mugabe and his Zanu-PF party came to power in 1980. If Baobab spots anyone over 25 years old, it is usually an MDC candidate, party bigwig or election observer. The master of ceremonies, Mr Chamisa, at only 35, has already served four years as a minister for information technology in an uneasy coalition government with Zanu-PF. Solomon Madzore, the MDC's youth leader, tellingly gets one of the biggest cheers of the day.
The party's leader and presidential candidate, Morgan Tsvangirai, is last to speak. He is scarcely in the first flush of youth, but at 61, is almost three decades younger than his rival, Mr Mugabe, and sprightlier than most of the Zanu-PF old guard. "Mugabe represents the old; we represent the future," he tells the packed stadium. "He can only talk about history [but] we cannot all be part of a history lesson." The vision for Zimbabwe that he outlines looks to its future rather than its troubled past. "My policy is to create a new wealth, not share a dwindling wealth," he says.
This is a reference to his opponent's indigenisation policy which calls for 51% of Zimbabwe's mining and other businesses to be handed over to black Zimbabweans. Mr Tsvangirai calls it what it is: a "racist policy". But even as he speaks, Mr Mugabe is extolling its wisdom at another stadium in nearby Harare. He is on his feet for more than two hours while many in his audience wilt in the heat. It is a lie that people are forced to attend Zanu-PF meetings by soldiers, says Mr Mugabe, who must believe his rambling Castro-length speeches are enough of a draw. He asks his audience: "Are you forced?" The response is negative (as if that settles the matter). Yet police had to block the stadium's exits to stop people from leaving during his speech.
If the crowd at the MDC rally was bussed-in, it was not obvious. Many arrived on foot alone or in pairs. Mr Tsvangirai, like a good wedding speaker, kept it short and lively. He began his 25-minute speech by leading the crowd into song. Earlier speakers used call-and-response chants, or appeals for shows of outstretched palms (the MDC's symbol), to keep the audience engaged. Hands were soon waving in the manner of a crowd at an English soccer match, teasing a player who has just been sent off. "Bye-bye, Mugabe," chanted Mr Chamisa mockingly. "Bye-bye."
NELSON CHAMISA is whipping up the crowd at an election rally for the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) in Chitungwiza on the outskirts of Harare, Zimbabwe's capital, as the July 31st poll approaches. "A Zanu-PF rally is like a funeral; an MDC rally is like a wedding," the politician says to cheers from supporters in red MDC T-shirts and hats.
The typical MDC supporter has attended more nuptials than wakes. Almost all of those packed into the overflowing stadium look as if they were born after President Robert Mugabe and his Zanu-PF party came to power in 1980. If Baobab spots anyone over 25 years old, it is usually an MDC candidate, party bigwig or election observer. The master of ceremonies, Mr Chamisa, at only 35, has already served four years as a minister for information technology in an uneasy coalition government with Zanu-PF. Solomon Madzore, the MDC's youth leader, tellingly gets one of the biggest cheers of the day.
The party's leader and presidential candidate, Morgan Tsvangirai, is last to speak. He is scarcely in the first flush of youth, but at 61, is almost three decades younger than his rival, Mr Mugabe, and sprightlier than most of the Zanu-PF old guard. "Mugabe represents the old; we represent the future," he tells the packed stadium. "He can only talk about history [but] we cannot all be part of a history lesson." The vision for Zimbabwe that he outlines looks to its future rather than its troubled past. "My policy is to create a new wealth, not share a dwindling wealth," he says.
This is a reference to his opponent's indigenisation policy which calls for 51% of Zimbabwe's mining and other businesses to be handed over to black Zimbabweans. Mr Tsvangirai calls it what it is: a "racist policy". But even as he speaks, Mr Mugabe is extolling its wisdom at another stadium in nearby Harare. He is on his feet for more than two hours while many in his audience wilt in the heat. It is a lie that people are forced to attend Zanu-PF meetings by soldiers, says Mr Mugabe, who must believe his rambling Castro-length speeches are enough of a draw. He asks his audience: "Are you forced?" The response is negative (as if that settles the matter). Yet police had to block the stadium's exits to stop people from leaving during his speech.
If the crowd at the MDC rally was bussed-in, it was not obvious. Many arrived on foot alone or in pairs. Mr Tsvangirai, like a good wedding speaker, kept it short and lively. He began his 25-minute speech by leading the crowd into song. Earlier speakers used call-and-response chants, or appeals for shows of outstretched palms (the MDC's symbol), to keep the audience engaged. Hands were soon waving in the manner of a crowd at an English soccer match, teasing a player who has just been sent off. "Bye-bye, Mugabe," chanted Mr Chamisa mockingly. "Bye-bye."