Sudanese business mogul-turned-democracy-activist Mo Ibrahim
recently announced on his website, “This year, my Foundation
withheld our Leadership Award for the third time in six years. This
[has] prompted much hand-wringing over the state of Africa and in
particular the futility of this initiative and the bad name it was
giving to the Continent.”
The “prize” in the “Ibrahim Prize for Achievement in African
Leadership” is eye-catching: $5,000,000 over 10 years, and then
$200,000 a year for life. The conditions for eligibility are just
as eye-catching: only former heads of state in Africa who have left
office voluntarily, transferred power democratically and, in the
minds of an independent prize committee, used their time in office
for “transformation of their countries and their citizens’
lives.”
As Ibrahim suggested, his foundation’s decision has
caused some hand-wringing. But among many Africans and clear-eyed
Africanists, heads are nodding.
For me, it brings to mind a memorable day in the Tanzanian
countryside, and a wonderful lady who symbolizes what Ibrahim hopes
to celebrate.
I was on a visit meant to highlight U.S.-supported Public
Expenditure Tracking Survey (PETS) projects that were beginning to
rise in many parts of the country. Similar to taxpayer associations
here in the U.S., PETS projects were a grassroots tool aimed at
shaping public decision making, and holding leaders more
accountable.
My role that day was to highlight the work of PETS volunteers in
a particular village by celebrating the group’s launch and handing
out some very official-looking awards that were created back at our
embassy. Called an “Ambassador’s Certificate of Recognition,” they
were a little more modest than what Mo Ibrahim is able to
offer.
I kicked off the ceremonies by pulling back a makeshift curtain
that covered a lockable glass bulletin board. Behind the glass was
a rudimentary budget showing how much money the government was
supposedly allocating for key services in the area—and by
implication, how much was not reaching its destination. As
I looked out over a sea of faces, I swear I could see local
officials in the distance with their arms crossed and faces
frowning.
Then, standing before a U.S. flag and State Department podium,
we turned to our little awards. For the PETS volunteers, it was a
somber and serious occasion. None of them had ever seen a U.S.
ambassador before, let alone been singled out by one for praise and
recognition. As I congratulated each honoree, they used both hands
to shake my one—a way of showing respect.
When I read the name of one lady, a young Tanzanian woman in her
very best dress, she not only used both hands, but she went half
way down on one knee—a sign of deep modesty. “Thank you, Balozi
(Ambassador),” she said softly as I handed over my certificate.
I turned away for the next award, but as I did, I heard a loud
“whoo—ooo!” I spun around to see that same woman, head thrown
back, a broad grin across her face, arms extended towards heaven,
doing a dance of celebration.
In a recent New Yorker article, celebrity activist Bono
joked that when he travelled in Africa with Mo Ibrahim, “[p]eople
were elbowing me out of the way to get to Mo.” He was the
real celebrity.
Why is Ibrahim so popular? He doesn’t go around handing out
cash. He isn’t promising to build stadiums or presidential palaces,
and he doesn’t gesture angrily or rile up the masses by
scapegoating others.
The crowds understand what the “handwringers” do not: Africa
will have her bright future, not through handouts or promises of
handouts, but through just leaders and greater democracy. Back on
his foundation’s website, Ibrahim asks the right question in his
“Message from Mo”: “We have been described as ‘failing’ to make the
award for these years. But is it the Foundation that has fallen
short or the political leadership of this Continent?”
During my brief stop in that small Tanzanian village, I tried to
honor that special lady by giving out an award. But Mo Ibrahim
honored her, and countless others just like her, through the award
he didn’t give.
