ANC that styled itself as a mythical hero can’t even keep the lights on

Giving a lecture to commemorate the life of Kenneth Kaunda in Lusaka recently, former president Thabo Mbeki — who’s become more loquacious of late — also paid tribute to Radio Freedom, the ANC propaganda tool in exile, for its role in the party’s successful prosecution of the struggle and its ultimate victory.

“Radio Freedom became a powerful tool of our liberation movement both in terms of  mobilising and strengthening the unity of the fighting masses around a common agenda,” Mbeki said. “Whatever the futile efforts made by the apartheid regime to jam it, Radio Freedom made an important contribution to the ultimate victory of our liberation movement.”

Every evening people would sit transfixed by the cocky voice coming from their crackling transistor radios: “This is Radio Freedom, the voice of the African National Congress and uMkhonto weSizwe, coming to you from Lusaka, Zambia,” it would say amid the booming sounds of machine guns.

People were not only being informed about what was happening in the country at a time of state censorship, they were also getting “direction” from the organisation, or propaganda straight from the horse’s mouth, which provoked anger and contempt at the unfairness and inhumanity of the system. Boiling with anger, many left the country to land in the grateful arms of the ANC for training as soldiers to fight for their emancipation.

Mbeki was right. Radio Freedom was successful in what it set out to achieve. It sold a myth: the ANC as an all-conquering juggernaut which would sweep all before it — including the odious apartheid regime — and leave only a nirvana of milk and honey in its wake.

The illusion was sold to the young people who left the country with great hope of fighting for their country but would spend the time kicking their heels “in the bush” and some never to return — killed either in battle with the enemy or butchered by those who were expected to care for them.

The country also bought into the myth. We naively believed those remotely competent at waging a struggle would be capable of running a first-class economy; they’d take to it like ducks to water. But the past three decades have taught us a lesson we shall never forget. We are, as it were, suffering from buyer’s remorse.

Joseph Campbell, renowned American scholar, in his definition of mythology paints a scenario that could aptly reflect our situation. “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.”

In its war against apartheid, the system itself became its biggest ally. The more brutal and oppressive the regime became, the more attractive and alluring the ANC visage would turn out to be

Our hero, the ANC, having encountered and defeated the fabulous forces of apartheid, has proceeded to bestow not boons but busts and other calamities on us.

The struggle against apartheid was a noble cause and many sacrifices were made by too many people, which would have been the more reason for the beneficiaries of such an endeavour to treat ultimate victory and its rewards almost as a sacred trust. We were sold a lemon instead.

And the myth endures. Incredibly, almost 30 years of looting and incompetence and the crushing of dreams and expectations has done little to dull its potency — the ANC looks set to remain the biggest party after the elections in two years.

Apparently there are still enough people, not only among the poor but the black  intelligentsia and the business classes, who seem to think the ANC has done enough to deserve another shot at the top. They don’t think it has stolen enough. They don’t think it has messed up the country enough. They don’t think crime is high enough.

The hospitals without linen or medicines; an education system in the gutter; children drowning in pit latrines. Oh yes, you’re probably sitting in the dark right now courtesy of the ANC.

Not that there was no warning. The continent was going backwards, and right around us our neighbours were getting their independence and immediately turning on each other. But we were different. We were special, we told ourselves.

Mbeki said the business delegation that met the ANC in Zambia in 1985 was the first crack in the apartheid edifice. A journalist on that delegation came to say the ANC couldn’t run a tap. We were horrified. Dammit, how could he say that about our glorious movement?

Probably competence was a necessary, but not critical, element in the struggle. The regime didn’t seem to understand that it had little to do with brute force; it was about winning hearts and minds. For the ANC there was accomplishment or victory even in humiliating defeat. They were seen to be standing up to the rogue. In fact in its war against apartheid, the system itself became its biggest ally. The more brutal and oppressive the regime became, the more attractive and alluring the ANC visage would turn out to be.

Many years ago in Zambia to cover the elections that were to remove Kaunda from power, I took a taxi to the ANC offices. The building looked dilapidated, the yard overgrown with weeds and water trickling from an outside toilet.

I ran after the taxi. “I want ANC offices!” I said.

“Go back, that’s the place!” he admonished.

Inside I encountered an uncommunicative Tom Sebina, for years the party’s voice in exile. I couldn’t blame him. Apartheid killers and spies were still running amok.

Later — having checked me out, I supposed — he came to the hotel and with room service having done a fair bit to loosen the tongue, he complained about the haphazard manner in which the party’s leadership had left for SA after the unbanning.

“Our guys left like they were going to the toilet,” he said. “They said they were going to check the scene — and never came back.”

Having spent time in desperate situations in exile, they came back hungry not only for liberation. The myth has been their ticket to the buffet.