When former Sudanese president Omar al-Bashir was toppled in a coup d’état in 2019, following weeks of protests, there wasn’t a rigorous enough examination of the forces that would be unleashed unto the Sudanese people as a result. There was, as we see now, naïve talk about a Sudanese democratic awakening led by the young men and women, best represented by the viral photo of young female journalist, Alaa Salah, standing on top of a car, clad in a white robe and gold moon earrings, calling for Bashir’s removal. Today, the hope of a democratic and free Sudan that Alaa Salah and millions of Sudanese thought they had ushered in, is no more. Not only are they back to where they started, in fact they are in an even worse situation. Their country is crumbling around them as powerful men fight over who will reign supreme. Maybe they (and the rest of the world) shouldn’t have been surprised with the outcome. After all, from its very birth as an independent nation in 1956, it had undergone military coups in 1958, 1969, 1985, 1989, 2019 and most recently, in October 2021. But despite this history, some naively thought that the military would replace their swords with ploughshares and sing Kumbaya in the streets with flowers in their hair as they ushered in, with the young middle class, a government that would mirror liberal western Europe. Well, the joke is on them because I can bet my left arm that the thousands fleeing the fighting would sell their most valuable asset to return to the good old days of al-Bashir. I guess we should all have seen this coming. We’d seen what had happened in Libya. But still the siren song of ‘democracy’ made us blind to the inherent risks of navigating a post-military political dispensation. Where there should have been dialogue with the old guard, and a slow and steady transition, speed of execution was made paramount. ‘Revolution, not evolution’. This brings me back to us here in Rwanda. Before the last presidential election season, a lot of the talk (obviously outside the country, and mostly by non-Rwandans) was on the topic of President Kagame’s length of tenure. While usually acknowledging his government’s work, they still said that he needed to go for ‘democratic purposes’. For them it was less about the results of the changing the administration, but rather the ceremony of a ‘peaceful transition of power’. Obviously, we didn’t pay heed to these voices at the time and what we have been awarded with is close to a decade of steady forward progress (ignoring the crisis that was Covid-19 of course). However, as President Kagame reminded RPF-Inkotanyi cadres (and us as well) at the recently concluded RPF Congress, the issue of a leadership change was one that we would have to deal with sooner rather than later. What we need to ensure is that that political transition is systematic and inclusive. It should involve the leaders that will be brought to the fore and the ones who’ve kept things ticking along for the past few decades. And most importantly, it needs to be at our speed. Not anyone else’s. Because guess what, as quick as they are to prop you up and rush your political processes, they are faster still at packing their bags and flying home on military aircraft at the very first sign of trouble. We Rwandans learnt that lesson in 1994. Libyans learnt that in 2011 and now our Sudanese brothers and sisters are learning that lesson today. It is my fervent hope that no other African has to learn that lesson. Unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that that will be the case. The siren song of ‘revolution’ might just be too strong. I hope I am wrong though. The writer is a socio-political commentator
