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The late Tanzanian President John Magufuli was in his element on February 24 when a massive road project was unveiled in Dar es Salaam – an accomplishment he bragged about could only be achieved by the ruling CCM party.
“It was completed on time because no one used the crown as an excuse to delay it,” he said, while applauding the contractors and asking government officials not to entertain anyone by using the pandemic as excuse to postpone delivery of projects.
This one was no different from previous public functions – a choir serenaded him and he ended it with a characteristic speech extolling his mantra of Hapa Kazi Tu (Work is my only goal).
“Tanzania is a rich country, we have to use our wealth to develop ourselves,” he said in his speech, which also chided the delays and urged Tanzanians to pay their taxes. Three days later, Magufuli would be seen in public for the last time.
Since his first election in 2015, Magufuli has cultivated the image of a turbulent man of action, breaking with the sober and majestic style of his predecessors.
His interventionist leadership style – supporters called it “practical” – won him fans beyond Tanzania, particularly in the East African region, where he inspired the Twitter hashtag #WhatWouldMagufuliDo, praising its no-frills approach to tackling corruption and relentlessly tracking infrastructure. projects to ensure they are completed.
According to his fans, what mattered to most Tanzanians was service delivery and Magufuli’s populist style of government was effective and a role model for other African leaders.
A man of the people
His supporters will miss the hour-long trips he made across the country, which involved multiple stops so he could speak with the public.
These trips, which baffled government officials, were often broadcast live on television and became popular with some Tanzanians who saw it as an opportunity to obtain an immediate solution to their problems.
Crowds of people often gathered and moved around the presidential convoy under the close surveillance of heavily armed bodyguards.
Those who were determined had the opportunity to ask him questions, but most people took the opportunity to advocate with the president to intervene on a myriad of issues such as the resolution of delayed road projects, endless court cases, water supply complaints or grievances. against local authorities.
Standing out of the sunroof of his armored vehicle, microphone in hand, Magufuli listened and sometimes asked follow-up questions. His responses were mixed but by the time he was done a new policy would have been proclaimed, an official fired or promoted, or the person who asked the question humiliated.
He once berated a man from a neighborhood in Dar es Salaam who complained that using public toilets was expensive: “So leave your excrement at home,” he replied with great amusement and dismay.
Political opponents, neighboring countries, mining companies, Western nations and anyone he saw as undermining Tanzanian interests were also the targets of his abrasive style of government.
Critics said he was a thin-skinned autocrat, a man obsessed with creating a personality cult and who harbored no speeches or jokes, whether from musicians, comedians or of commentators on social networks.
He instilled such fear in the country that even during his more than two week absence from the public, his draconian policies continued unabated – police arrested those who were speculating on the president’s fate or simply asked: Where is Magufuli?
This state of affairs is somewhat at odds with his position as defender of the dignity of Tanzanians.
He also muzzled the Tanzanian media, shutting down several newspapers, radio and television stations, and social media platforms simply for reporting what the government did not like.
He has also been criticized for implementing policies such as banning girls who have become pregnant from going to school.
But it is his handling of the coronavirus pandemic that has arguably been his most damning failure.
In his final days, he harassed critics who did not buy his account that the country was “covid-free” – a position that contrasted surprisingly with his sober, scientific approach to the early days of the pandemic.
Magufuli, a former chemistry professor, would later push plots over plots to harm Tanzanians while expressing doubts about the safety of masks and vaccines.
At one point, he sent samples of papaya and goat meat to be tested for Covid-19 and used the results to justify his refusal of the virus.
The real cost of this neglect and dereliction of duty can be counted in the number of lives lost as a result.
Strong men or strong institutions
There will be a vigorous debate in Tanzania over Magufuli’s legacy and whether his successor should stay the course or change.
This debate cannot be separated from the division over whether the continent needs strong men or strong institutions.
Magufuli appealed to a lot because he was not hampered by institutional limits. He issued decrees and things happened and for many citizens who had become frustrated with incompetence in government, it was refreshing.
But just as many Africans want to live in countries of law, to live with dignity and free from brutality, to have leaders who govern honestly and honestly, and a government that respects them and does not hide information about the health of their president.
Mr Magufuli’s death has been blamed on ‘heart problems’, but many will still suspect he succumbed to Covid-19.
Ironically, the pandemic he vigorously denied has survived him, turning his once-heralded presidency into an uplifting tale for the region and the continent.
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