The inevitable happened to yet another African strongman. President Omar Hassan al-Bashir stepped down after 30 years in power yesterday.
In the end just like he did to his predecessor, Bashir, who many believed lived by the sword, fell by it. The military overthrew him in a bloodless coup yesterday morning following months of mass protests at the capital Khartoum over the price of bread and fuel and cash shortages.
In power since 1989 when he overthrew the democratically elected civilian government of former Prime Minister Sadeq al-Mahdi, Mr Bashir ruled Sudan by brute force by silencing the voices of dissent. He is now under house arrest.
The popular uprising characterized by mass protests started in December and reached a crescendo on Saturday when the protesters surrounded the Defence Ministry headquarters where Mr Bashir lived. Increasingly isolated abroad and despised at home, the world was caving in on Mr Bashir.
Mr Bashir has been indicted by the International Criminal Court in The Hague and is facing an arrest warrant over allegations of genocide in Sudan’s Darfur region during an insurgency that began in 2003 and led to death of an estimated 300,000 people.
The downfall of Bashir follows the toppling of Algerian strongman Abdelaziz Bouteflika, also following mass protests after three decades in power.
The rise and fall of Mr Bashir just like that of Mr Bouteflika and Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe last year should be a wake-up call to the other eight African leaders who, sadly, are hell-bent on following in his steps. That they ought to manage their exit or someone else will; and to stop treating countries as their plaything.
This brand of African leaders start out as promising revolutionaries, firebrand politicians who convince the masses that they are saviors, liberators, messiahs of their countries.
Whether by making heroic entries after long bloody struggles or sweet-talking their way into voters’ hearts, they start as icons of hope, and end up as despicable villains.
The trio came to power with a promise of hope. Somewhere along the way, power got into their heads, corrupting them as all absolute power does. The signs of their fall were always there. If they were not too blinded by it, the people around them saw it coming.
They say when the gods want to destroy a man, they make him proud. They make him believe he is indispensable; that he is God’s gift to his people. So it is for many African heads of state, and so was Mr Bashir. They leave power as tragic old characters that destroyed their countries’ fabric and economy.
Like for those before him, Mr Bashir’s exit is a warning to other presidents who still want to cling to power long after their time is over: Get out while you can. Like they say, the best time to leave is when you have given your best, when the accolades are flowing; when the crowds want to make you King for life.
Apartheid hero Nelson Mandela served for one term and retired a respected elder statesman. Even as the crowds swelled in Khartoum, Mr Bashir still believed he was in control, perhaps urged on by a clique of court poets keen on picking the spoils of his rapidly declining legacy.
It is these characters who should be blamed for much of the problems our continent faces; characters who tell our presidents what they want to hear; characters who blow into the weak egos of heads of state, telling them they are never wrong; that they have been chosen by the gods, that the presidency is their right.
They did it to Mr Bashir; they are doing it elsewhere in Africa. Gladly, their time is running out. Though the military announced a two-year period of military rule to be followed by presidential elections, there is every reason to fear. There is a heavy feeling of déjà vu.
Though Sudan has a chance to get things right, it could still go wrong. The contention of the organisers of the protests- Sudanese Professionals’ Association – that the military stay away is understood.
By all means, Sudan should avoid the fate that befell Egypt where Hosni Mubarak gave way to another strongman and then another.