Polokwane — One of America's most renowned public broadcast journalists, Charlayne Hunter-Gault, is blogging for allAfrica from the University of Limpopo which, situated near the city of Polokwane in South Africa's Limpopo province, is the venue for the national conference of the ruling African National Congress.
The countdown to what appears to be the most contentious ANC battle for leadership ever began in earnest Saturday morning, as the 4,075 delegates began arriving, alongside the first of more than 600 domestic and international journalists and maybe others who managed to get accredited for one reason or another.
At first glance, the atmosphere inside the cavernous blue building (was it a hanger?) on the grounds of the Polokwane International Airport appeared relaxed and jovial. Comrades grabbed each other, slapping backs and laughing heartily. I had expected the wait for credentials to be long, but I got mine in about three minutes. A few had gone missing, like my old CNN comrade's Mike Hanna, now happily with Al-Jazeera, but he was assured it would be duplicated soon. He didn't seem worried.
But even as the scene was calm on the surface, the underlying tension over who would be voted in as president of the ANC was almost palpable, with the rumour mill grinding at lightning speed. Journalists appeared cool, but went chasing after anyone who might have an inside track. I was among them. Until a few days ago, it looked as if Jacob Zuma has climbed back from, if not the dead, at least disgrace when he surged ahead of Thabo Mbeki, winning five of the nine provinces during what is the rough equivalent of a U.S. primary. Only the ruling party delegates get to vote and the majority cast their lot with Msholozi, Jacob Zuma's clan name. (Here they also call him J-Zed, as Z is pronounced in the South African alphabet.)
But as I casually walked up to pundits and people in the ANC I have known for as long as I have lived in South Africa, the expression I kept getting in answer to my question—Is it a done deal?—was not "Absolutely," but a nod and a shake of the head that suggested the absolute of a few days ago might not be so absolute after all. In search of a "Big Mo"—the Mbeki forces revved themselves up, deploying their top people around the country. No one seems to know for sure what their strategy or tactics have been, what they have offered, promised or, as some have charged bought—the latter having provoked the secretary-general of the party to warn against fraudulent campaigning and vote buying. (Meanwhile, the ANC Youth League, which has cast its lot with J Zed held a press conference and announced it plans to lodge a formal complaint about bribery when the conference opens on Sunday.)
But whatever tactics the Mbeki forces have used, it has at least given the pundits pause.
To reverse the tide, Mbeki must get 800 delegates to vote for him, or 1,000, making up 25 percent, to nominate him from the floor. Tall order in a short time!
I remember a last-minute effort to nominate Winnie Mandela from the floor for deputy president in the first big ANC conference I attended in Mafikeng in December 1997, just after I had arrived in the country as African correspondent for NPR. Thabo Mbeki looked mildly put upon when the independent electoral official called for the vote, and had a bit of tense a tête–à–tête with Winnie, before she explained to him that she was withdrawing her nomination…
Could the Polokwane conference become déjà vu, all over again? Or could we hungry journalists be in for a feast?
In Menkweng, the black township of Polokwane where sits the University of Limpopo and where unemployment runs at some 65 per cent, a few lucky ones got temporary employment helping provide a facelift for the conference. On Friday they were tearing down shacks on the main road and relocating them out of direct sight. A few others were helping construct a car wash to help delegates keep their cars—if not their campaigning—clean.
None of the people I talked with there seemed to upset by talk of a leadership crisis. As one teacher told me—the culture of the ANC is such that they will sort out their issues honorably.
But they do have issues: she about the resource problems in education that affect both teachers and students—overcrowded classrooms, no laboratories and little training in the new education curricula developed after apartheid.
And some of the issues of the unemployed have driven them solidly in to the camp of the man they see as one of them—J-Zed!
After leaving Menkweng,I popped in at a shopping center and asked some of the whites shopping if they were excited about the ANC conference meeting in their town.
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"I don't give a hell what they do," Hennie Conway, a retired policeman told me. When I asked him why, he recounted losing his senior position in the police force when the ANC took power. But he also said he believes if Zuma gets in, "South Africa's the next Zimbabwe."
He wasn't as critical of Mbeki, but allowed that if Mbeki wins, "We'll have to see. Only time will tell."
A white housewife , Karen van der Merwe, told me whites like her didn't care much about the conference, that she "felt vulnerable and not having power because you haven't got a vote in who's going to be the president."
And that's the power of this ANC conference: whoever is elected president of the party will in all probability become President of South Africa in 2009.
Meanwhile, when I asked a top government official what he thought about the leadership battle, he smiled and responded: That's why we call it struggle.
