Riding in a taxi from Entebbe to Kampala, I was surprised to see us pulling to the side to allow three sets of motorcades to pass. It was not like seeing Mugabe's motorcade back home; people in the streets did not freeze, the taxi driver certainly did not stop talking, nor did the patrol car just in front of us blare out "get out of the road, voetsak!"
Gaddafi is in town, and the city is abuzz. He has shown his pechant for longevity and struggle by encouraging Museveni to rule for life if people still want him. He has also urged the West to leave Mugabe to run elections the way he wants.
There is a disease in Africa that sees old horses backing each other right to the finish line. The finish line is not the boiling pot where they will be churned into glue to bind the nations together; no. The finish line is a long trail of trials for brutal murders, hangings, rapes, thievery and corruption. Their finish line is a hoard of disgrace where, like the old donkey which dies by the road side, their shame will be strewn out in the road for people to decry.
If and when people in Uganda want a new leader, they should be able to choose one. Museveni should leave the office for another to take up. But will he, a fourth term is in sight. The prospects are too high.
Zimbabwe faces the same element. Mugabe looks at the end of march as a reivigoration of his ageing campaign. Strike fear and spread trauma in the hearts of the electorate, and you are guaranteed another term in office.
I shudder to think what will happen to Africa.
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