10 JANUARY 2004, Page 20

Monkey business

Don't laugh, says Hugh Russell, but a white journalist may be deported from Zambia for having written a column in which he depicted leading politicians as wild animals Lusaka If you think that the only writer called Roy Clarke worthy of notice is the one responsible for that eternity of whimsy called Last of the Summer Wine, think again. We have our own Roy Clarke here in Zambia, and our Roy Clarke — or `Kilarki' as the Bemba tongue pronounces his name — must be the best known and most popular white man in the country. He is a Brit by birth, who has lived here since the Sixties. He won his fame on the strength of his politically satirical column, which he writes weekly for our independent newspaper, the Post.

Or at least he did until this week. He is now the subject of a 24-hour deportation order. He is vilified by government ministers. He is threatened by rowdy gangs of drunks, otherwise known as political cadres. He is the subject of high-court appeals. And he is in hiding.

Envious political satirists in Britain must be wondering what Roy did to deserve such public attention, and the answer is: he was very very rude about African politicians. Frankly, he should have known better. Perhaps he did.

The offending column appeared on New Year's Day. It was written in Roy's usual style, describing a parallel universe which mimics and satirises life in Zambia. In this case the animals of the game park, including hippos, buffaloes and, oh dear, monkeys, were listening to a Christmas message from their leader, the Great Elephant.

That probably sounds harmless enough. But when our permanent secretary to the ministry of home affairs, Mr Peter Mumba, read it, he . . . well, to echo Roy's jungle theme, he went apeshit. He claimed, for the benefit of those who hadn't got there already, that in describing the animals Roy was referring to actual government ministers. He said that Roy had called the minister of agriculture, the Honourable Mundia Sikatana, a knockkneed giraffe. Furthermore, he had called the minister of legal affairs. the Honourable George Kunda, a red-lipped snake.

Mr Mumba wasn't too upset that the figure of the Great Elephant could be taken to be our president, His Excellency the Honourable Levy Mwanawasa, but he was outraged that Roy had called the elephant `Muwelewele', which means foolish and con

fused. Most of all, Peter Mumba condemned Roy's depiction of the general public as monkeys. And he demanded Roy's immediate deportation back to Britain.

Now there were two things that our government could do in response to Mr Mumba's outburst. It could simply ignore the whole issue, and allow it to blow away and be forgotten. Or it could sack Mr Mumba for being an oversensitive twerp. It did neither of those things.

Instead it — in the person of our minister of home affairs, the Honourable Ronnie Shikapwasha — issued Roy with a 24-hour deportation notice. At the weekend a squad of security men turned up at Roy's home to escort him to the airport but found him gone. The next day Minister Shikapwasha confirmed, 'It is true that Mr Clarke has gone into hiding, but we will get him. He will not hide for a long time.' Shades of the search for Saddam, one might feel. But Shikapwasha is probably right. Where in this country can a middle-aged white man be securely hidden? In a hole in the ground? Not in the rainy season.

Meanwhile we have a good old-fashioned freedom-of-the-press controversy on our hands, and everyone is pitching in. Government ministers and other political hacks are predictably censorious. And equally predictably, our political 'cadres' have taken to the streets, waving their badly written banners and parading a coffin with 'Roy Clarke' written on it.

The anger is, one has to say, understandable. As Roy Clarke himself must have known, his reference to monkeys, however kindly and humorously meant, was bound to be explosive. The worst thing you can call an African is a monkey. So you don't do it unless you're looking for trouble.

Nonetheless, the deportation decision has outraged the Post newspaper, the Zambian media and the thousands of Roy Clarke fans. Post editor-in-chief Fred M'membe was trenchant in his support of his writer. 'I am responsible and totally answerable for Roy's column,' he declared. 'It's me who published it, not Roy. Come for me and deport me. If you can't deport me, try some other silly things. Deporting Roy will be the most stupid thing done by this government.'

On Monday night, as the hunt for Roy hotted up, M'membe went to the Lusaka High Court and persuaded Judge Philip Musonda to act to stop the deportation, pending a judicial review. And in Tuesday's Post M'membe reprinted Roy's offending column word for word under his own byline. At the time of writing, Roy himself has said nothing. One can only think that what has happened must have confounded his hopes and confirmed his fears about the people who govern Zambia.

And this must grieve him, because if ever a man has committed himself to the welfare of a country not his own, it is Roy Clarke. When he arrived here in the Sixties he worked as a metallurgist in the mines. Revolted by the racial attitudes of his fellow whites, he left and became a teacher. Over the years he achieved progressively higher qualifications, and eventually joined the University of Zambia, lecturing in education and law.

He first began writing for the press in 1996, beginning on the government-backed Times of Zambia. When the editor objected to his criticism of political leaders, he switched to the Post. He is married to a Zambian lady — of sterling qualities, judging from mentions of her in his column — and he has a large family. His column — incidentally called The Spectator, wouldn't you know? — appears on a Thursday morning, and is a highlight of the media week here. To some extent Roy Clarke is regarded as a national treasure.

So if he is deported — and it's difficult to see how, having taken a position, the government can now back down — Zambia's loss will be Britain's gain. I would confidently expect to see Roy's writings appear at once in the Western world's leading political and social publication — i.e., The Speccie — and no doubt he will turn his particular spotlight on your own government leaders.

I think I can guess who will turn out to be the fat hippopotamus. Poor John, he'll hate it. But any guesses who'll be the redlipped snake?