Word: banda
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Englishman, Go Now! The tension began when Dr. Hastings Banda, the fanatic Nyasaland physician whose cry is "To hell with federation!" (TIME, Jan. 5), stopped over in Salisbury. As part of its new get-tough policy against nationalist agitators, Southern Rhodesia classified him as a "prohibited immigrant" and sent him on his way. As usual, Dr. Banda made political hay of it ("I am the bad boy. I went to Southern Rhodesia and spoiled their 'natives' for them"), but other African nationalists did not leave it at that. At a mass meeting in Salisbury, the fiery young general...
...thou the second coming of Christ?" he is asked, and his admirers call him their messiah. To the whites, he is either the biggest demagogue to come down the pike, or a deluded mystic, and in either case dangerous. Never has Dr. Banda appeared in better-or worse-form than last week, on his return from Nkrumah's All-African Peoples Conference in Accra. The experience had been heady...
...About Cromwell? At Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia, where his plane landed for a brief stop, he was detained by immigration officials for questioning. When he emerged from the examination room, his plane had left, and there was no other due to go to Nyasaland for two more days. But Dr. Banda made the most of his stay. At an airport press conference, he bluntly declared that he had no use for moderates. "What about your Oliver Cromwell?" he shouted at British reporters. "Was he a moderate? No. He was a fanatic." Then, gesturing wildly, he exclaimed: "I'm ready...
That night Banda toured the city in a friend's car, grumbling all the while that he was "followed everywhere" by cops. At a mass meeting, he exhorted 3,000 wildly cheering fans: "Go to your prisons in your millions, singing Hallelujah." "Kwaca!" he cried to indicate the "dawn" of freedom. "Ufulu!" he roared, his face twitching, and the crowd roared back, "Ufulu! Ufulu! [freedom]." "My brothers and sisters in the hell of Southern Rhodesia," he cried, "I am prepared for anything. Even my ghost, my ashes will fight federation. Are you with me?" When the cries...
...Liars. As he finally started home to Nyasaland (a poor back country inhabited by 5,730 whites and 3,000,000 blacks), Dr. Banda held another press conference, which ended, in typical style, with his yelling at reporters: "I don't fawn on you. I think you are all a pack of liars." Then he rode on the roof of a car to the airport, as crowds scrambled to kiss his hand. At home another singing, dancing mob was waiting to greet him. Adopting a Napoleonic stance, Banda declared: "In Nyasaland, we mean to be masters, and if that...