Election eve

As I walk home along tree-lined Independence Avenue on the eve of Zambia’s presidential elections, the sound of constant honking horns fills the air. The windows of passing cars are drawn down, with straight arms and clenched fists proudly extending out of them. Every minute or two, a transport truck drives by with 30-odd men chanting in chorus in the back.

I have a feeling of curious and anxious anticipation. For the first time, I feel nervous about the days to come.

In the two months since the death of the last president, Levy Mwanawasa, Zambia has been in the grip of feverish political campaigns. Passions rage over whether Rupiah Banda, Mwanawasa’s former Vice President of the same Movement for Multiparty Democracy (MMD), or Michael Sata, a veteran Zambian politician and leader of the Patriotic Front (PF), should take Mwanawasa's place. The remaining two candidates are seen as outsiders.

Having arrived in Zambia just as the current campaigns were getting underway, I can attest to heated emotions on both sides. Here in Lusaka, as well as in urban and populated Copperbelt Province, Michael Sata is said to enjoy overwhelming support – from passing conversations and daily jaunts around Lusaka, it would seem that a Sata victory is all but inevitable.

Yet Zambia is not a country of only cities, and Rupiah Banda’s support comes largely from distant Eastern Province and other rural areas that us city-dwellers all too easily discount. I’ve found grasping the political situation extremely difficult, since I hear sensible and educated predictions coming from both sides. The newspapers are so evidently aligned to party interests that extracting meaningful information is difficult.

Having witnessed the build-up to Kenya’s catastrophic election last year, I can’t help but notice certain similarities. Namely, I see massive segments of society resolutely and closed-mindedly siding with a single candidate, with little intermingling or exceptions to the rule.

Despite this, I’ve been told to rest at ease. Zambians are peaceful people. As its neighbouring countries fought bloody wars for decades, Zambia hosted refugees and lived in peace. In fact, I have been consistently surprised by the warmth and generosity of friends and strangers alike. I’m not a fan of ethnographic generalizing, but the Zambians I’ve met exhibit this peacefulness, and I think that counts for something.

That’s why I’ve maintained a relaxed air over the last couple months. No matter the inevitable disappointment one large swath of the country will face, politics are politics, and Zambians will move on. Crucially, Zambian politics lack the clear-cut tribal dimensions that allowed the Kenyan political crisis to become an ethnic one.

“We want change, we want change,” is the chant coming from one of the transport trucks overloaded with excited Sata supporters, as I walk home on the evening before election day. In these and other chants from the dozens – hundreds – of passing vehicles I see on my short walk home, there is no uncertainty.

I am reminded of a few days ago, when I asked my well-educated Zambian French teacher if it was even possible for Rupiah Banda to win the election fairly, and he replied with a resounding no. If Banda wins, he said, he will have cheated.

It is unclear to me who will win this election. Accusations of fraud will likely emerge from either losing party. We can only hope that the process is credible and the transition smooth.

If the election is not fair, I am hard-pressed to see how people as excited and polarized as Zambians are now, even with their famously peaceful dispositions, won’t fight – vocally or physically – for their concerns.