Protest and Pathos as Zuma Gets Day in the Dock |
Publication | Business Day |
Date |
2005-06-30 |
Reporter |
Nicola Jenvey, Tim Cohen |
Web Link |
The
atmosphere was at turns festive and bitter when the proceedings leading up to
the trial of former deputy president Jacob Zuma began in the Durban Magistrate’s
Court yesterday.
His appearance was the inevitable result of the recent
conviction of his self-styled financial adviser, Schabir Shaik.
The
thousands of Zuma supporters who danced and sang outside the court yesterday
some of whom had kept vigil on a chilly winter’s night on Tuesday seemed oblivious to the constant stream of revelations thrown up
by the Shaik trial.
Rather, they focused on the simple notion that Zuma is “innocent until proved
guilty”.
Their protest action was reminiscent of so many anti- apartheid
protests, almost as though the supporters harked back to those times when the
issues were more clear-cut and the sides more distinct.
Police
helicopters circled overhead while old, yellow police carriers, now slightly
rusted, were hauled out for another round in the familiar ritual of crowd
control and carefully monitored mass marching and dancing in the
street.
While the ceremonies and routines of South African protests are
all too familiar, what was happening inside the courtroom was not.
How
many former deputy presidents have had to face this kind of indignity, this
massive fall from grace?
In a way, yesterday’s demonstration was
slightly surreal. A sense of nostalgia for simpler times was evident in the
undercurrent of irritation in the crowd.
“The Nats stole billions of
rands and what happened to them? Nothing,” said a Zuma supporter, clearly too
aggrieved to recognise that two wrongs do not necessarily
*1 make a right.
At times, the bitter undercurrent was directed at
President Thabo Mbeki.
One placard described him as “the prince of the
Group of Eight, the loyalist of the liberals *2”.
Often the explanations among the crowd about what had happened in the
courtroom seemed disjointed and suspicious. In answer to the question: “aren’t
you worried about corruption?” a Zuma supporter said: “Of course, but this is all about politics”, before quickly moving the
discussion onto Zuma’s popularity. “Mbeki would not be able to attract a crowd
like this,” the man said.
The support for Zuma was vehement outside the
court. Yet, inside Court 12, protected by a phalanx of police, the man himself
seemed slightly forlorn and not a little bit worried.
In a fortnight he
had fallen from the grandeur of deputy president to the sad station shared with
the thousands of nameless people who appear before magistrates every
day.
The prospect of the title “common criminal”
looms ominously on the horizon.
That reality undoubtedly struck
his supporters in the court, several of whom burst into heart-wrenching sobs
when Zuma entered the room.
Led by KwaZulu-Natal local government and
housing MEC Mike Mabuyakhulu, the public gallery stood as one as their hero
walked through the door.
Zuma’s 15 minutes of officialdom in court passed
without him uttering a word, yet his presence alone was sufficient to rally the
supporters.
Cries of “amandla, awethu” resounded off the walls and the
court officials waited until most had departed the courtroom, still shouting
their support, before making a passé attempt at restoring the quiet dignity
usually associated with the halls of justice.
Just as the Shaik trial
seems to have led inexorably to his appearance in the court, so too Shaik’s
conviction seems ominous in the forthcoming trial, which seems certain to plough
the same fields again.
Zuma has often in the past called for his day in
court.
When suspicions of his involvement in corruption grew after the
publication of Shaik’s charge sheet, Zuma said: “The allegations are unfounded
and completely baseless. I am ready to defend myself and will co-operate (with the investigation)”.
Yet now
that the day has finally arrived, even Zuma, who has always adamantly protested
his innocence, must recognise the perilousness of his
predicament.
With acknowledgements to Nicola Jenvey, Tim Cohen and the Business Day.
*1 Actually, never.
*2 How is it possible to be the loyal prince of liberals and a neo-conservative simultaneously?