Nairobi — The problem with African coup d'etats is not just the fact that they flout constitutionalism -- they also have an unfortunate tendency to propel virtual clowns to power whose only distinction is force of arms.
Moussa Dadis Camara in Guinea is a perfect example.
A small-time army captain whom nobody had heard of before, stormed to power in December last year promising a clean sweep.
The regime of Lansana Conte, who had just died, had presided since 1984 over a basketcase of a country, dirt-poor despite having perhaps the leading deposits of bauxite in the world, plus a fair amount of diamonds and other minerals.
The first thing Captain Camara did was to demand an audit of the lucrative bauxite mining contracts awarded to foreign firms like Rio Tinto.
Next was a crackdown on drug trafficking, in which Guinea was becoming a major staging post owing in large measure to official complicity and lax policing.
At first, there was tremendous public goodwill especially when he promised to eradicate public corruption, which had become the bane of the sclerotic Conte dictatorship.
But the eccentric manner with which he went about the clean-up provoked early fears that Africa may have acquired a new egomaniac.
Troops from the elite presidential guard were paraded on live television begging on their knees for forgiveness in front of a stern Camara lounging on a comfortable sofa.
Top people accused of being part of drug trafficking rings were likewise paraded on live TV.
Among those who were humiliated this way was the former president's son, Ousmane Conte.
Guineans were left all the more puzzled by the haphazard ways of their leader since it was already public knowledge that the young captain was very close to the Conte family.
Camara's fleeting popularity has since turned to international opprobrium after last month's massacre by his troops of 200 opposition supporters (according to the BBC) who had gathered in Conakry, the capital.
For some reason, there is a political culture in West Africa that tends to breed such thugs.
Take Master-Sergeant Samuel Doe and Yahya jammeh for example.
Doe's first act when he took power was to parade almost the entire Cabinet -- naked -- on a Monrovia beach where they were summarily executed.
They included the head of state at the time, president William Tolbert.
On his part Gambia President Yahya Jammeh, who came to power in a 1994 coup, claims to have a cure for HIV/Aids, and he devotes one day in a week to "treating" people who have been infected -- it is all a hoax but nobody dares say solest they be jailed.
The Samuel Does and Yahya Jammehs tend to come in promising short, temporary stays in power as they clean up the messes of those they ousted.
But once in office, they like the trappings so much that soon they organise plebiscites, which in most cases are rigged, to legitimise their stay in power.
Now Camara has increasingly been suggesting in public that it is his "right" to contest the presidency in elections his junta had scheduled for January.
The recent massacres may complicate this self-driven transition.
France, the former colonial power, has cut military and other forms of co-operation with the country and has indicated it will draw in other European partners.
Meanwhile, Guinea remains suspended by both the Africa Union and the regional grouping Ecowas from the time of the December coup.
The contemporary pressure for clean and democratic government in Africa and elsewhere also leaves hope that Camara won't get the latitude for complete misrule like Sergeant Doe could get away with at an earlier era.
For the generation that was around during the early years of African independence, Guinea is remembered as the country that was led to freedom in 1958 by one of the icons of African nationalism: Ahmed Sekou Toure.
Almost alone among former French colonies, Toure's Guinea refused all aid from France if it came tied to any strings.
After Ghana's founder Kwame Nkurumah was overthrown in the 60s, Toure gave him a home in Guinea and protected him till his death.

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