THERE was a time in Lesotho’s recent political history when the sound of helicopter blades became almost synonymous with the Revolution for Prosperity (RFP).
In the 2022 general election campaign, the party’s helicopter politics helped create an image of a new, wealthy, confident movement that was coming to rescue Basotho from the old political order. The message was simple enough: here was a party with money, machinery and the means to do things differently.
And Basotho bought the message. The RFP won the 2022 election with 56 parliamentary seats, turning Sam Matekane from political newcomer into Prime Minister almost overnight. The helicopter became more than a means of transport; it became part of the political theatre. It represented money, modernity, efficiency and, to some voters, the promise that a prosperous businessman could bring prosperity to the country.
Now, four years later, the helicopters appear to be making a comeback. Only this time, there is a delicious twist to the story: the helicopter is no longer simply flying over opposition parties. It appears to be flying over the RFP itself.
Lebona Lephema, one of the RFP’s founding members, has been moving around constituencies hosting gatherings branded as “Chillas” and, on several occasions, arriving in his private helicopter. The gatherings have been interpreted as part of his efforts to build a following ahead of a possible bid for the party’s deputy leadership.
So here we are again: helicopters, crowds, food, money and political excitement.
Only this time the question is whether the helicopter is carrying the next RFP leader or simply carrying the party back to the same political theatre that helped win it power in the first place.
There is, of course, nothing inherently wrong with a helicopter. It is a very useful machine. It can cross mountains, avoid traffic and deliver a politician to places where ordinary vehicles might struggle. It can also make a magnificent entrance at a political gathering. What it cannot do is govern.
A helicopter can carry a politician over a mountain, but it cannot carry a nation out of poverty. It can land at a Chillas, but it cannot land a budget in balance. It can impress a crowd, but it cannot write sound policy.
That distinction seems to have been forgotten in the excitement surrounding Lephema’s gatherings.
Lady Scrutator just remembered an old Sesotho saying that, “Chelete ha se eona motho”. (Money is not what defines a person).
The RFP would be making a serious mistake if it interpreted Ntate Lephema’s wealth, political spending or founding-member status as proof that he is automatically the right person to lead the party. Being wealthy is not a crime, and being generous is not a weakness. But neither is wealth a qualification for political leadership.
If it were, Lesotho would simply need to publish the bank balances of aspiring politicians and cancel elections altogether. The candidate with the biggest account would win. The candidate with the second-biggest account would become deputy. And the rest of us could go home. But politics does not work that way, or at least it should not.
The RFP must remember that it did not win the 2022 election because Basotho wanted helicopters. It won because Basotho wanted change. The helicopter was merely one of the most visible symbols of the movement’s wealth and confidence.
That distinction is important. Because if Ntate Lephema now believes that repeating the helicopter spectacle is enough to recreate the magic of 2022, then he has misunderstood why Basotho voted for the RFP.
People wanted prosperity, jobs, better services, competent government and an end to the endless cycle of political instability. They did not vote for aviation entertainment.
And there is another uncomfortable question.
If the helicopter was such a powerful campaign symbol in 2022, what happens when several helicopters begin flying for different factions within the same party? Do we have Air RFP versus RFP Airways? Will constituencies soon be divided according to landing zones? Will party delegates have to look up at the sky before deciding whom to support?
Perhaps the IEC should prepare a new rule requiring all leadership aspirants to declare their aircraft before nomination. This would be absurd, of course. But politics becomes absurd when money, spectacle and personal popularity begin replacing ideas.
That is why Ntate Sam deserves some credit for finally clipping the wings of what appears to have become an increasingly visible internal campaign. He simply said, “Hoooo! First seek the approval from party headquarters before holding meetings, rallies, Chillas, convoys and other activities involving different constituencies”.
He said the purpose was to ensure that party activities remained coordinated and did not create the impression of factions operating with mandates different from that of the RFP. His critics will naturally say he is afraid.
Ntate Lephema’s supporters will say the Prime Minister has seen the helicopter and reached for the brakes.
Perhaps they are right. But even a frightened captain is allowed to notice that another aircraft is flying too close to his runway.
The truth is that Ntate Sam had to act. If an ambitious politician is allowed to tour the country under the party banner, attract crowds, build a personal following and operate outside the coordination of the party leadership, the organisation risks developing two centres of power.
And once a political party develops two centres of power, the next thing usually to develop is a third political party. Lesotho has enough of those already.
The irony, however, is that some senior RFP NEC members have attended Ntate Lephema’s gatherings. That makes the sudden insistence on discipline look somewhat selective. If the party’s leadership was genuinely concerned about these activities, why did some of its own senior figures climb into the helicopter, figuratively speaking, and attend?
Still, hypocrisy by some party officials does not make party discipline unnecessary.
Ntate Sam’s circular points to the RFP constitution, which gives the leader responsibility for guiding the party, while the NEC is responsible for its strategies, programmes, directives and oversight of party structures.
For that, he deserves kudos. Leadership is not only about smiling when everybody is happy with you. Sometimes it is about saying no to people who have become too powerful, too popular or too comfortable.
Founding the RFP is an achievement. Contributing money to the RFP is an achievement. Helping build the party is an achievement. But none of these achievements makes somebody automatically suitable to lead the party. Founding member does not mean founding father forever. Look at Mokola now, he formed the AD but was thrown far away from its leadership seat.
Political parties are living organisations. They must be able to choose leaders according to the needs of the moment, not according to who was standing closest to the microphone when the party was launched.
The same applies to money. If Ntate Lephema contributed substantial amounts to the RFP, the party should appreciate that contribution. But a political contribution should not become a political mortgage.
Nobody should be able to say: “I paid for this party, therefore I own the leadership.” That would turn democracy into a very expensive auction.
And Basotho should be particularly careful because of the concerns surrounding Ntate Lephema’s record in local government. Allegations have been raised concerning his business interests and tenders involving his cement and bricks company while he was minister. They are serious enough that any aspiration to lead the RFP should naturally invite scrutiny.
If somebody wants to lead the party that controls the government, Basotho are entitled to ask whether that person’s record demonstrates a clear separation between public office and private business interests.
The country does not need leaders who see every government department as another potential customer. It needs leaders who understand that public money is not political pocket money.
This is where the RFP risks repeating the mistake of its own success. The party’s 2022 campaign was brilliantly packaged. Wealth, helicopters, modernity and the promise of prosperity created a powerful political brand. But the danger now is that the party may begin believing its own advertising.
The helicopter was never the solution. It was the packaging. The real product was supposed to be good governance.
And if the packaging returns while the product fails to impress, Basotho may eventually ask whether they were sold prosperity or merely shown what prosperity looks like from the air.
That is the question Ntate Sam, Ntate Lephema and every other RFP aspirant should be prepared to answer.
Because when the helicopter lands and the dust settles, there is still a country waiting on the ground.
For now, Ntate Sam deserves credit for finally showing some political backbone and gagging what appeared to be an increasingly visible campaign to diminish his authority as party leader.
Whether his motives were entirely pure is a question for political historians. But the principle is sound. A party must have one programme, one constitution and properly recognised leadership structures.
