The day after

Let us imagine our (partisan) utopia. Imagine that the cause which rallied us against, or for the current government, prevailed. Imagine that through manipulation of the stories, bringing new containers or jumping over them, worked. Imagine that by blocking national highways and the roads that are vital for business, or by threatening to lock down the capital, our team triumphed. Imagine that we outmanoeuvred the citizens, our neighbours and relatives, who we now consider our worst enemies. What does the day after this resounding success look like?

Passionate arguments for supporting a particular party are all well and good, and part of a healthy democracy. But having no plans for the future is never a sound strategy. In our world where we believe that the entire problems of the nation are because of one person, and one person alone — either because that person is inherently corrupt, or that person has a singular goal of becoming the head of the government at all costs — are both naive and extremely dangerous. Lessons from history, particularly in the post-colonial era of nations which are struggling with economic and development indicators, suggest that while one person may indeed be leading a corrupt regime or deeply enamoured with a single goal of becoming the national leader, until underlying problems facing ordinary citizens are addressed, there is little hope for a significant change.

Working in Africa, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa over the last decade has offered plenty of lessons in humility for an outsider like me. But the single most important lesson is the disconnect between the citizens and those who aspire, or continue to hold on to power. Mobutu Sese Seko clung to power for nearly three decades in Congo (which he renamed Zaire) and was known for his rampant corruption and a fundamental disregard for human rights, or any rights, for his citizens. His departure, by a revolutionary, Laurent-Desire Kabila changed little for the better. Now the younger Joseph Kabila is not faring much better either for his people. Many similar challenges in countries across the continent tell us that politics without policy, and policy without substance makes for decent headlines, but not much otherwise.

Those who are vying for change have legitimate arguments about accountability, transparency and the rule of law. So do those who do not want to see the federal capital sieged and the daily business shut down. They also want to uphold the rule of law. But I fail to hear arguments, in either camp, about better health, improved education, sanitation and access to food? The number of children out of school should be a national embarrassment. The image of the post-apocalyptic utopia, on either side, fails to talk about that when it comes to gender equality, we are at the very bottom of the list, and that when it comes to violence against women, we rank fairly high. We have a long list of problems — that are seldom, actually never, mentioned in the passionate arguments on either side.

Many of the people I work with do not have prominent last names that are synonymous with money, power, land and political clout. As a matter of fact, many do not even have last names, period. Who will take care of them, and their children, and their grandchildren? Who will solve their problems? Laptops are not a solution for the education crisis in the country, and neither are veiled threats, atop a container, to derail the whole system. We ought to demand real policy, and real strategy, with real numbers and real paths, from those who hang out in the corridors of power and those who aspire to be there.

The can of our problems is too big, and too important, to be kicked down the road.

Published in The Express Tribune, November 1^st , 2016.

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