Now 'scram from Africa'

AFTER Britain granted Kwame Nkrumah and his party a constitution providing for full self-government [of Ghana], he got down to the business. His life became a whirlwind of meetings, speeches, tours and rallies. Party newspapers built up the image of a man of supernatural powers, a prophet, a new Moses who would lead his people towards the cherished land of independence.

AFTER Britain granted Kwame Nkrumah and his party a constitution providing for full self-government [of Ghana], he got down to the business. His life became a whirlwind of meetings, speeches, tours and rallies. Party newspapers built up the image of a man of supernatural powers, a prophet, a new Moses who would lead his people towards the cherished land of independence.

He was venerated in hymns and prayers; supporters recited phrases such as: "I believe in Kwame Nkrumah."

From early morning, queues would form outside his home, people seeking advice on anything from marital disputes to settlements of debts. Nkrumah always endeavoured to find time for them.

He possessed a magnetism evident to all who encountered him. A lithe figure of medium height and slim build, with a prominent forehead, receding hairline and soulful eyes, he exuded vitality.

His whole life was dominated by politics. A bachelor, he took no interest in sport, food or personal comfort. Baptised a Catholic, he had once considered a career as a Jesuit priest and was still attracted by the sense of single-minded purpose it involved. He did not smoke or drink.

When a friend suggested he should listen to classical music to help him relax, he promptly ordered 200 records. But the only one he listened to, over and over again, was the Hallelujah Chorus from The Messiah .

Behind all the hurly-burly, Nkrumah was a lonely figure, distrustful of his close colleagues, rarely confiding in them. He enjoyed the company of women, but feared intimacy and said he had no time to get married.

One of the most trusting relationships he formed was with British Governor Sir Charles Arden-Clarke's private secretary, Erica Powell, an Englishwoman who had arrived in the Gold Coast in 1952.

When he first invited her to dinner at his home, Arden-Clarke encouraged her to accept. "You know, Erica," he said, "Nkrumah is a very lonely man. A very lonely man."

Nkrumah often telephoned her late at night. "Sometimes I listened while he became more and more drowsy and slurred his speech," she recalled in her memoirs. "But if I suggested hanging up he would immediately come to life."

In 1955 she joined his staff as his private secretary. The gossip in Accra at the time was that she was his mistress, but she always denied this. In her memoirs she portrays Nkrumah as moody, erratic, impatient and volatile, but also charming and considerate when it suited him. "The trouble was that his moods could change so rapidly," she wrote.

Despite all the frustrations, she remained a key figure in his entourage. Nkrumah once confided to her that she was the only person on whom he could rely for unbiased advice.

After winning the 1954 election, Nkrumah seemed set to make rapid progress towards independence. But he encountered unexpected resistance, centred on his conduct of government.

In the final stages of colonial rule the Gold Coast, once a model colony, was riven by such bitterness, division and violence that it appeared in danger of breaking up. At the core of the crisis was cocoa money.

To protect cocoa farmers from price fluctuations, the colonial authorities had established a Cocoa Marketing Board, which fixed a price for farmers and acted as the sole buyer, grader, seller and exporter. But the board soon became notorious for corruption and mismanagement.

Once in office, Nkrumah instructed the board to keep the price as low as possible, aiming to raise funds for development projects. Soon after the 1954 election, Nkrumah announced that the price paid to farmers would be fixed for a period for four years at a level less than one-third of ruling world prices.

This decision provoked a surge of anger across Asante, the central forest region where half of the country's cocoa crop was grown.

A new opposition party, The National Liberation Movement (NLM), sprang up, proclaiming to defend Asante interests and culture against a central government it portrayed as corrupt, dictatorial and bent on undermining the beliefs and customs of the Asante people.

With the blessing of the Asante heartland, the NLM demanded a federal constitution prior to independence, giving Asante and other areas that wanted it a substantial measure of local autonomy.

Nkrumah saw the issue as a struggle between a modern democratic government and traditional chiefs trying to protect the old order.

But he misjudged the extent of popular support for Asante institutions. As the NLM and Nkrumah's Convention People's Party (CPP) struggled for ascendancy, violent disturbances broke out. A bomb attack was made on Nkrumah's house in Accra.

Alarmed by the disorders, the British government refused to set a date for independence and insisted on resolving the issue by calling another general election. At the polls in July 1956, Nkrumah's CPP won an outright majority, 72 of 104 seats, though only 57% of votes were cast.

While the CPP received 398000 votes, the opposition tally was 299000 votes. Satisfied with the result, Britain finally pronounced a date for independence: March 6 1957.

It was a date that marked the beginning of a new era for Africa. The advent of independence for Ghana was seen as a portent watched and admired around the world. No other event in Africa had previously attracted such attention. Nor was there an occasion when the feeling of euphoria was so strong.

At midnight on March 6, as crowds danced and sang in Parliament Square, the Union flag of Ghana, red, green and gold, was hoisted in its place. Wearing a convict's white skull-cap embroidered on the front with the letters "PG" - his prison graduate badge - Nkrumah was borne from parliament on the shoulders of his colleagues to the nearby polo ground where a wooden platform had been erected.

Under the glare of floodlights, he performed an impromptu dance and then, with tears streaming down his face, he spoke of the moment of freedom that had arrived. "Today, from now on, there is a new African in the world," he declared.

No other African state launched with so much promise for the future. Ghana embarked on independence as one of the richest tropical countries in the world, with an efficient civil service, an impartial judiciary and a prosperous middle class.

Its parliament was well established, with able politicians in both the government and opposition. The prime minister himself, then only 47 years old, was regarded as a leader of outstanding ability, popularly elected, with six years of experience of running a government.

With his customary energy, Nkrumah soon made his mark in international circles. In June 1957 he attended the Commonwealth conference in London, creating a favourable impression among fellow prime ministers.

He was particularly thrilled at the prospect of meeting Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace. The following morning he returned from the palace, exhilarated by the experience. "She's an amazing woman!" he declared. "So small and so simple and modest."

Queen Elizabeth was as fascinated by Nkrumah as he was by her. On a subsequent occasion, he was invited as her personal guest to the royal residence at Balmoral. There, after a walk on the moors to watch Prince Philip shoot grouse, he was affirmed a member of "Her Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council".

Nkrumah's main ambitions, however, focused on Africa. He was determined to turn Accra into a centre of African liberation, to provide a base from which nationalist leaders from colonial Africa could draw support and encouragement.

"Our independence is meaningless unless it is linked up with the total liberation of the African continent," he proclaimed before vast crowds on Independence Day.

In 1958 he brought together an array of political parties, trade unions and student groups from across the continent with the aim of coordinating "the African non-violent revolution".

Some 300 African representatives attended the All-African People's Conference. Many were later to achieve prominence: Julius Nyerere came from Tanganyika (now Tanzania); Joshua Nkomo from Southern Rhodesia (Zimbabwe); Kenneth Kaunda from Northern Rhodesia (Zambia); Hastings Banda from Nyasaland (Malawi); Patrice Lumumba from the Belgian Congo; Amilcar Cabral from Portuguese Guinea; Holden Roberto from Angola. The young Kenyan trade unionist, Tom Mboya, was chosen as the conference chairman.

For a week they drew in the intoxicating draught of revolutionary rhetoric and departed eager for the fray.

In his concluding speech to the conference, Mboya reflected the belligerent mood. The colonial powers, he said, should now reverse the scramble for Africa. "Your time is past," he declared. "Africa must be free. Scram from Africa." - © Martin Meredith (the book is published by Jonathan Ball Publishers).

Next week: Political analyst Kuseni Dlamini reviews the book, and ponders: Where did Africa go wrong after independence?