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Death to Chiluba: ‘No, you can't bring along the designer suits and shoes'
By JENERALI ULIMWENGU
THE EAST AFRICAN
Posted Sunday, June 26 2011 at 10:41
The only time I met Frederick Jacob Titus Chiluba, recently deceased, was a few months before he trounced Kenneth Kaunda to become the second president of the Republic of Zambia. It was the spring of 1991 and I was leading a delegation of Tanzanian legislators on a month-long tour of the United States, culminating in a meeting in Washington where a motley group of African opposition leaders were spelling out their respective political woes, or telling the world what they were intent on doing once back home.
Of all the speakers that afternoon, only Chiluba sounded confident, indeed cocksure that he was headed for great things, that nothing could stop him. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your attention, and I would like you to know that next time we meet I will be the President of the Republic of Zambia," he ended his address, which he had delivered in an impeccable Oxbridge accent and a stentorian timbre.
I was taken aback by his self-assurance. How could he be so certain that he was winning when he was pitted against the veteran and venerated Kenneth Kaunda, and incumbents were not in the habit of countenancing defeat at the hands of political start-ups whose only value was that of nuisance? But apparently he knew what he was talking about, and, in due course, Chiluba inflicted on KK one of the most memorable political whippings any African incumbent had suffered till then.
This was the new era of an African democratic awakening, and the jubilation in Zambia was echoed across the continent and worldwide. The old autocratic order was crumbling and in its place a new and bright future was heralded. Chiluba became a household name, a hero, a messiah.
Not for long, though. As if to validate all the negative stereotypes used to depict African political leaders, Chiluba went on a spree of excesses far worse than he had accused Kaunda of, including intolerance and haughtiness, the jailing of his opponents in politics and the media and thievery at levels Zambians had never believed was possible.
Having failed to remove the constitutional term limits to allow himself a third term, he thought he could still buy his personal security by imposing a handpicked successor, Levy Mwanawasa, but this latter had other ideas. In short order, Chiluba was hounded by court orders both in Zambia and in the UK, and the only reason he got off the hook despite overwhelming evidence, was that Mwanawasa died when he did.
But it was interesting to find out what the stolen millions went into. There will doubtless be some solid properties such as castles in Scotland or Hungary - the judge in London found Chiluba had salted away a whopping $57,000,000 - but his most famous shopping was for designer suits and shoes, bought in their hundreds.
One shop in Switzerland could report that on one occasion President Chiluba bought shoes worth $500,000. A picture of his shoe-rack shows some of these objets d'art, made out of crocodile, lizard and ostrich skin, complete with the monogram FC to announce His Excellency the wearer.
At some point it was found that, for lack of cupboard space, Chiluba had hired a warehouse for his six hundred suits, all from the top drawers of the top designers of the world.
Vanitas vanitatum, omnia vanitas, the Latin adage comes to mind. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. But honestly, this should be considered beyond the mere vanity of a small mind, and placed in the realm of the general study of the state of mental health in African high places.
The desire to be so sumptuously suited and so luxuriously shod must have come from a subconscious flight from the spectre of millions of Zambians who walk around unclothed and unshod, a reminder of the humble beginnings of the man when he worked as a sisal cutter in the Tanganyika of yore
By JENERALI ULIMWENGU
THE EAST AFRICAN
Posted Sunday, June 26 2011 at 10:41
The only time I met Frederick Jacob Titus Chiluba, recently deceased, was a few months before he trounced Kenneth Kaunda to become the second president of the Republic of Zambia. It was the spring of 1991 and I was leading a delegation of Tanzanian legislators on a month-long tour of the United States, culminating in a meeting in Washington where a motley group of African opposition leaders were spelling out their respective political woes, or telling the world what they were intent on doing once back home.
Of all the speakers that afternoon, only Chiluba sounded confident, indeed cocksure that he was headed for great things, that nothing could stop him. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your attention, and I would like you to know that next time we meet I will be the President of the Republic of Zambia," he ended his address, which he had delivered in an impeccable Oxbridge accent and a stentorian timbre.
I was taken aback by his self-assurance. How could he be so certain that he was winning when he was pitted against the veteran and venerated Kenneth Kaunda, and incumbents were not in the habit of countenancing defeat at the hands of political start-ups whose only value was that of nuisance? But apparently he knew what he was talking about, and, in due course, Chiluba inflicted on KK one of the most memorable political whippings any African incumbent had suffered till then.
This was the new era of an African democratic awakening, and the jubilation in Zambia was echoed across the continent and worldwide. The old autocratic order was crumbling and in its place a new and bright future was heralded. Chiluba became a household name, a hero, a messiah.
Not for long, though. As if to validate all the negative stereotypes used to depict African political leaders, Chiluba went on a spree of excesses far worse than he had accused Kaunda of, including intolerance and haughtiness, the jailing of his opponents in politics and the media and thievery at levels Zambians had never believed was possible.
Having failed to remove the constitutional term limits to allow himself a third term, he thought he could still buy his personal security by imposing a handpicked successor, Levy Mwanawasa, but this latter had other ideas. In short order, Chiluba was hounded by court orders both in Zambia and in the UK, and the only reason he got off the hook despite overwhelming evidence, was that Mwanawasa died when he did.
But it was interesting to find out what the stolen millions went into. There will doubtless be some solid properties such as castles in Scotland or Hungary - the judge in London found Chiluba had salted away a whopping $57,000,000 - but his most famous shopping was for designer suits and shoes, bought in their hundreds.
One shop in Switzerland could report that on one occasion President Chiluba bought shoes worth $500,000. A picture of his shoe-rack shows some of these objets d'art, made out of crocodile, lizard and ostrich skin, complete with the monogram FC to announce His Excellency the wearer.
At some point it was found that, for lack of cupboard space, Chiluba had hired a warehouse for his six hundred suits, all from the top drawers of the top designers of the world.
Vanitas vanitatum, omnia vanitas, the Latin adage comes to mind. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. But honestly, this should be considered beyond the mere vanity of a small mind, and placed in the realm of the general study of the state of mental health in African high places.
The desire to be so sumptuously suited and so luxuriously shod must have come from a subconscious flight from the spectre of millions of Zambians who walk around unclothed and unshod, a reminder of the humble beginnings of the man when he worked as a sisal cutter in the Tanganyika of yore
