….As the Crowd Said “We Do Not Know Him”
The Editor Zambia
POLITICS has a cruel habit of revealing uncomfortable truths in the most public of ways. 
For Makebi Zulu, that moment arrived years ago in Lundazi, when a political rally meant to showcase party unity instead produced a political rebuke that has now resurfaced in a viral video clip.
In the footage circulating widely on social media, the then Eastern Province Minister is invited to step forward at a rally attended by the former President Edgar Lungu. It should have been a routine moment in the choreography of a political gathering.
Instead, the crowd erupts in chants of “Sitimuziba.”
Translated from the local language, the message is blunt: “We do not know him.”
It is difficult to imagine a harsher political verdict than that delivered by the very electorate one claims to represent.
In politics, recognition is the first currency. Without it, ambition quickly collapses under its own weight.
The viral clip has revived questions about political authenticity and the difference between office and popularity. Holding a ministerial title is one thing. Commanding the trust of a constituency is quite another.
The incident in Lundazi was not merely a moment of embarrassment. It was a warning signal. If Makebi Zulu was rejected by his own tribesmen, how does he hope to win the support of the whole country? If Makebi Zulu’s rejection by the electorates at the district level was that loud, what makes him think Zambians will vote for him as president? If the people of Lundazi saw a failure in Makebi Zulu, how could the rest of the country see a winner in him?
Makebi Zulu should know that political capital can not be manufactured in Lusaka boardrooms and then exported to the villages as if it were a government circular. It must be built patiently on the ground where people live, vote, and remember.
History shows that even powerful political figures have stumbled when they mistook proximity to power for genuine grassroots support.
Niccolò Machiavelli once observed that fortune may open the door to power, but only virtue keeps it open. In the language of politics, fortune may elevate a figure temporarily, but the electorate eventually conducts the final audit.
The Lundazi episode should have served as a political awakening. Popularity does not appear overnight. It does not grow spontaneously like the first teeth in a baby’s mouth. It is cultivated through years of presence, service, and recognition.
As Zambia moves steadily towards the 2026 general elections, the political climate is unlikely to reward illusions.
Voters are increasingly alert to the difference between political theatre and genuine representation.
Fortune still exists in politics, but it is fickle and unreliable.
Elections, however, are far less sentimental. They measure credibility, not aspiration.
If the voices from Lundazi carried any enduring lesson, it is this: in politics, the crowd’s memory is long, and legitimacy can not be declared. It must be earned.
