The People’s Choice

Zimbabwe’s opposition leader morgan Tsvangirai turns 50 on March 10, the day the polls close in the country’s presidential election. If the vote is fair, Tsvangirai could have plenty to celebrate — even the most conservative local surveys give him a 6% lead over 78-year-old Robert Mugabe, who has been President since independence in 1980. But if the election is rigged, as many suspect it will be, Tsvangirai will remain the most outspoken voice of dissent against Mugabe’s dictatorial regime.

Last week Tsvangirai’s confrontation with the government took an ominous turn. He and two other senior officials from his Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) were told they could face charges of treason in connection with an alleged conspiracy to assassinate Mugabe. The accusation, which can carry the death penalty, revolves around a December meeting Tsvangirai had with a Canadian consulting firm. In a heavily edited video tape of the meeting, aired first in Australia and then broadcast repeatedly on Zimbabwe’s state television, Tsvangirai sits at a table apparently discussing the possible “elimination” of Mugabe. Tsvangirai does not deny meeting the advisers — now working for President Mugabe — to discuss his campaign. But he says if the word elimination was used, it was in the context of defeating Mugabe in an election. Leaving a Harare police station after being warned he might face charges, Tsvangirai quipped: “This is part of a plot to eliminate me from the race.”

That plot may yet succeed. In the government press, Tsvangirai is being demonized as a traitor plotting to kill Mugabe. Tsvangirai routinely receives death threats and several MDC officials have been killed in the increasingly violent election campaign. Tsvangirai’s supporters say the harassment shows what a serious threat Mugabe considers him to be. The consensus in Harare, Bulawayo and other Zimbabwe cities, where support for the MDC is strongest, is that the tape is a crude attempt to frame Tsvangirai — and that it will more likely end up increasing his support. At the least, the incident focused international attention on Tsvangirai and the stark contrast he presents with his opponent.

Like Mugabe, Tsvangirai is from the Shona tribe and went to a Catholic mission school. But there the similarities end. Mugabe received a high school diploma and headed for university in South Africa, went to Ghana where he embraced Marxism and returned to what was then white-ruled Rhodesia to join the anticolonial struggle. In the course of his studies, including several years in prison, he accumulated seven university degrees.

The son of a poor laborer, Tsvangirai left school with only an elementary education. “No, I didn’t go to university,” he says with a grin. “But there are plenty in Mugabe’s government who did — and look what they’ve done to the country.” Instead of pursuing higher learning, Tsvangirai earned money in a textile mill, then a nickel mine, in Manicaland. While he was in the mines, Tsvangirai became a trade-union activist. Starting in 1988 as secretary-general of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions, he brought 27 unions together to represent one-third of the formal labor force in Zimbabwe. With strong union backing, he launched the National Constitutional Assembly in 1998 to push for electoral reforms and a new constitution. The following year he became leader of the MDC.

While Mugabe resides in palatial, well-guarded splendor in State House, Tsvangirai for years lived in a modest home in the working-class suburb of Mabelreign, outside Harare, with a guard dog and a couple of burly friends as minders. A year ago, as gangs of Mugabe-backed “war veterans” stepped up their violence against opposition supporters and white farmers, the MDC insisted that he move to an upmarket house nearer the city, where security was better. “It’s sad, but it’s necessary,” says Tsvangirai. “It shows what Mugabe has reduced us to.”

In person, the two men are worlds apart. The dark-suited Mugabe, his eyes glinting behind thick-lensed spectacles, hurls invective at his opponent in long and often incomprehensible speeches. Tsvangirai dresses in colorful shirts and comes across as self-confident and relaxed.

The Mugabe government has sought to ban opposition rallies, keep foreign election observers away and disenfranchise MDC supporters. Given those handicaps, it could take a miracle for Tsvangirai to win the election. But he often says he believes in miracles. And, perhaps more importantly, he has the support of most of the country’s business, civic and church leaders. “In the end, it is democracy that will overcome,” he says. If that happens on March 10, Tsvangirai couldn’t ask for a better birthday present.