We have once again completed one of Africa’s grand political festivals. The President and legislators stood before cameras with Holy Bibles raised high above their heads, reciting promises polished like campaign posters. Yet somewhere between the oath, the sirens, and the evening banquet, corruption is already outside, warming its engine and checking whether the treasury doors are unlocked.
Africa made a mistake when it abandoned traditional accountability for ceremonies politicians no longer fear. Today’s swearing-in rituals increasingly resemble bridal showers for corruption. African leaders should once again swear under the tamarind tree, where leadership is feared because the oath itself is feared. Under those branches, oaths are not performances for cameras or lawyers, but terrifying confrontations with truth, ancestors, morality, and communal shame before the living, the dead, and the unborn.
The entire community gathers under the tamarind tree, a place of judgement and ancestral witness. Elders arrive carrying staffs darkened by age and wisdom, while old women sit near the front bearing memories of sons lost to war, hunger, cattle raids, and greedy rulers. The drums fall silent. Even dogs wander carefully, as though they too sense spirits moving among the gathering. Then the ritual begins. Goats, bulls, and black chickens are brought before the elders for sacrifice. The politician removes his shoes, watch, and every decoration of pride before stepping barefoot onto the soil because no man stands above the land that raised him.
The oldest elder clears his throat slowly, and suddenly even the wind seems afraid to interrupt the gathering. Then the politician swears before the elders, the community, and the restless ancestors of the land: ‘If I steal money meant for schools, may my children revise for exams using charcoal on banana leaves. If I swallow hospital money while the poor die on cold floors, may every mosquito know my bedroom address. If I build roads only during campaigns, may my convoy sink in mud while goats overtake me on foot.
If I appoint cousins, tribesmen, girlfriends, and drinking partners into public office, may even my own dogs fail to recognise me and bark at me in broad daylight. If I hide public money abroad while villagers drink dirty water with frogs inside, may my cattle wander without return, and may my granaries stand empty even in harvest season.” ‘If I lie before microphones, may my trousers tear loudly at state functions, and may radio presenters replay the sound for seven days.
If I betray service, loyalty, and the trust of my people, may chickens crow my secrets at midnight, may my shadow refuse to follow me, and may the chair of power grow thorns each time I sit on it. If this oath is false, may I return home colder than these slaughtered goats and chickens lying before the shrine.’
And the people roar together: ‘Ayi! So let it be!’
Then, finally, the politician leaps over the carcass of the sacrificed animal, crossing into sacred obligation. The elders release blessings wrapped in dreadful warnings. They invoke the wrathful gods of the land and the restless spirits believed to gather under the ancient tamarind tree whenever truth and leadership are tested. Under the tamarind tree, leadership is not a microphone, a V8 convoy, or sirens scattering boda bodas from the road. It is a fearful covenant between the leader, the community, the ancestors, the soil, and the unseen spirits believed to watch every oath uttered under those sacred branches.
Modern politics has perfected the language of accountability while emptying it of fear. That may be why corruption now walks so confidently through public offices. Under the tamarind tree, however, shame still has witnesses. The oath is not merely spoken; it is carried by memory, ritual, and communal judgement. Our leaders should once again be dragged from the comforts of Kololo and made to swear under the tamarind tree, where lies fear the ancestors, betrayal fears shame, and leadership is measured not by convoys, microphones, or slogans, but by truth, service, and responsibility before the people.