Not the most punctual president
Having been scheduled to make a brief appearance at Rhodes House as a guest of the African society, Dr Bakili Muluzi, President of Malawi, arrived in Oxford late to address an impatient crowd.
His excellency was in fact scheduled to address an assembled group of around 100 interested parties on the topic 'Ten years of multi party democracy in Malawi.' We arrived at around 4.45pm to a friendly greeting from the members of African Society, who had obviously put a great deal of effort into organising the event; the throng moved into the hall and sat down.
Then at five o'clock, the time scheduled for the President's address to begin, it was announced that he had been delayed and would hopefully be with us in the next half-hour. In hindsight I believe we interested parties should have realised that "hopefully" is politic speak for "not a chance in hell, but please stay."
Again the assembled parties mingled, snow appeared outside the window and we waited. People wandered to the toilet. Then, at the time the President was now due to arrive, his press officer stepped up once more and announced: "I am very sorry to have to tell you that the president is still on his way." Again: "He may get here in the next half hour." Once again, in hindsight, that was a little optimistic. You can guess by now the procedure of events: we waited, they told us he was coming, we slowly believed it less and less, particularly evident in the quite obvious thinning of the audience. About an hour and half in they announced: "He's at Headington roundabout," to which someone retorted, "That should only take him ten minutes." If only - he was still at Headington roundabout half an hour later.
A friend wandered off and had a look at the book stall selling two books co-authored by the President. Flicking through one, he remarked that it "had more than a whiff of propaganda." It was a school history book on Malawi.
Eventually, as the audience gradually declined in number, we were ushered out of the main hall into an adjoining room so that the hall could be laid for dinner. We had been plied with alcohol and tensions mildly diffused, with several people muttering the phrase 'African time' (which I have since had explained to me is an attitude characterised by a certain indifference to time specifics).
Eventually, the President actually arrived. Tony Blair would have been proud: Muluzi could schmooze with the best of them. If there had been babies there he would have been kissing them. He ploughed in with his six assistants, Kodak smile and a handshake which seemed impossible to resist. It seemed like an automatic response, working the room in no time at all, from one end to the exit at the other. He even found time to joke that he had left at 2.30pm on the dot but that traffic had been so bad he had considered walking, managing to fit in his catch phrase: "He who doesn't walk never gains strength." Even I got to shake the President's hand. Then again, having waited almost three hours...
In honesty, as much as there may have been a sniff of propaganda in the President's books, most of the audience would have been happy with a whiff of the man himself. His lateness, it turned out, was not really his fault: it was due to weather conditions. Having been reliably informed that he will be returning in Trinity term I will, along with most of the audience I am sure, be back waiting on African time and admiring the architectural properties of Rhodes house. At which point, hopefully, we may find out about democracy in Malawi.
12th Feb 2004