Why Tanzanians and Kenyans should consider themselves lucky

On Monday, Cameroon President Paul Biya, who has held office for 41 years, celebrated his 90th birthday. Biya is the oldest head of government in the world.

He is Africa’s second-longest serving president, after Equatorial Guinea’s 80-year-old strongman Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo, who will soon clock 44 years in power. He is the longest-serving president of any country in the world ever.

The Republic of Congo’s President Denis Sassou-Nguesso, 79, pulls in third in Africa, having clocked nearly 38 years in power. Uganda’s President Yoweri Museveni, 78, puts in a strong showing for East Africa, bagging fourth place, now in control for 37 years.

Kenyans and Tanzanians these days are given to asking sarcastic questions of people who come from countries that the same tough man has led for over 30 years. When you turn your back, some of them giggle. Neither country knows what the same president lording over the country for even 26 years means.

In Kenya, Daniel arap Moi fell two years shy of 26, when he stepped down at the end of 2002. Counting his years as independence Prime Minister, Tanzania’s Mwalimu Julius Nyerere had also notched up 24 years when he retired in 1985. Both countries have two-term presidential term limits that do not immediately look under threat. Tanzania dodged a bullet in that regard, with the untimely demise of hamfisted president John Magufuli in March 2021. He had “scrap term limit” written all over him, Magufuli.

In light of Kenyans’ and Tanzanians’ puzzlement with the creature called President-for-life, a little education from an expert from a land that has had only one dear leader for 37 years won’t hurt. What is the secret of African presidential longevity?

To begin with, Moi, nicknamed the “professor of politics”, made a shocking amateurish mistake and cheated himself of a record. After his divorce in 1979, the man did not remarry. Biya teaches us that if there’s a First Lady vacancy, either because of death or divorce, it must be filled within about two years.

Biya’s wife, Chantal, who is nearing 54, is 36 years younger than the Big Man. He married her in April 1994, after his first wife, Jeanne-Irène Biya, died in 1992. An unfilled First Lady position probably leaves an empty heart that kills the appetite for presidential office beyond 25 years, at least in East Africa. Kenya was, therefore, lucky that in Moi, it had a love-sick president. Who knows, he might have hung around longer. It’s understandable, though, if they didn’t see the connection between Cupid and the presidency for life.

Long rule, the facts suggest, is a self-fulfilling prophecy. For the strongman, the goal is to take one’s rule beyond 25 years. After that, it seems that every year they survive in office adds possibly up to two years to their rule.

Two things happen. First, the long-ruling leader becomes like a familiar piece of furniture or item the family is unable to get rid of. Our father used to part his hair, as men of his time were wont to do. All of us remember being born and finding him with his wire for parting his hair and brush for combing it back. No matter the advance of technology and fashion, he held on to his wire and brush until he passed. With that, they became precious memorabilia that might be passed on to several generations to come.

While hatred of the strongman will grow with time, the constituency that wants him to stay as a symbol of stability and a comfort blanket grows very determined. They are often more motivated to keep him in power than their opponents are determined to eject him.

But even among his opponents, a certain amount of complacency sets in. They reason that a fellow like Biya is 90. They hope he will fall down the stairs because of his unsteady step and either hurt himself so seriously he is unable to rule or reason that at that age, it won’t be more than ten years before the Lord calls him.

They do the numbers and conclude that waiting for biology to resolve the succession and transition is far less expensive that, for example, taking to the streets in protests to seek to oust him.

They also calculate that it is less risky to let a 90-year-old rule until his lights go out than oust him because of his shaky grip because then the ruling party, which has been in power for 42 years, could replace him with a 45-year-old shrewd hardliner. If he also rules until he is 90, then they will have handed the party 87 years in power.

Letting biology sort the matter abruptly means you are less likely to have a hardliner as a successor. The ruling party might also be plunged into disarray by the sudden demise of the eternal leader, allowing the opposition to seize the presidency or force it to negotiate a power-sharing deal. Half, or indeed quarter, a loaf is better than nothing.