Riek Machar and the African VP curse: Here’s the secret to breaking the spell

While Machar’s struggles have a distinctly South Sudanese post-independence flavour, his predicament is also part of a broader African tradition—where presidents and their deputies often endure relationships defined by suspicion, power struggles, and outright betrayal.

Take Kenya, for instance. Last October, Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua was impeached, marking the first such removal of a deputy president in the country’s history. His alliance with President William Ruto had disintegrated within months, culminating in his ouster just two years after he took on Kenya’s second-most powerful role.

Ironically, Ruto himself endured a famously toxic relationship with his predecessor, former president Uhuru Kenyatta, in the four years before the 2022 elections that propelled him into power.

Sometimes, these rivalries turn deadly. Burkina Faso’s charismatic revolutionary leader, Thomas Sankara, once trusted Blaise Compaoré as his right-hand man.

They had seized power together in a 1983 coup. But Compaoré’s ambitions poisoned their relationship. On October 15, 1987, he orchestrated Sankara’s assassination and took control for himself.

This remains one of Africa’s most infamous cases of a deputy turning against their president.

Read: South Sudan defends detention of Riek Machar allies

Zimbabwe’s case is equally illustrative. Former president Robert Mugabe, Africa’s longest-serving leader, appointed Joice Mujuru—a respected liberation war veteran—as vice president in 2004, seemingly grooming her as his successor.

But as First Lady Grace Mugabe entered the political arena, she sought to sideline Mujuru. In 2014, Grace accused Mujuru of plotting to assassinate Mugabe. The ensuing smear campaign saw Mujuru unceremoniously ejected from the party and her vice presidency.

Then there is Somalia, where former President Mohamed Abdullahi Farmajo, who lost re-election in May 2022, maintained a notoriously acrimonious relationship with his deputy, Mahdi Mohamed Guled.

In August 2020, a video surfaced purporting to show the two attempting to strangle each other during a heated press conference.

The story spread like wildfire, and given their well-known enmity, many found it plausible. It later emerged that the video had been doctored—an old political scuffle repackaged for dramatic effect.

For all the dramatic falling-outs, Africa has also had vice presidents who perfected the art of staying out of trouble. Few mastered it as well as Uganda’s Edward Ssekandi, who served as President Yoweri Museveni’s deputy for a decade. If Ssekandi ever disagreed with Museveni, he ensured the public never caught wind of it.

Museveni, who has been known to publicly berate his ministers and prime ministers, never turned his wrath on Ssekandi. Months would pass without Ssekandi making a public appearance, save for the occasional grainy photo on social media of him dancing alone in a dimly lit pub. When his tenure ended, there was no fanfare, no angry statements from his supporters, and no tearful television interviews.

Ssekandi reportedly walked away with a smile—and remains a much-loved figure.

His approach reinforced a crucial African political lesson: to survive as a vice president, one must either master the art of invisibility or wholeheartedly embrace the role of presidential cheerleader, bag-carrier, and flatterer-in-chief.

Of course, sometimes fate intervenes. Nigeria’s Goodluck Jonathan became president not because of any strategic manoeuvre but because his boss, Umaru Musa Yar’Adua, fell gravely ill and died in office in 2010. The lesson? If you’re a VP, luck can be more useful than loyalty.

Then there’s the “sexually transmitted successor” strategy—Kenyan slang for those who ascend by family ties. Equatorial Guinea’s Vice President, Teodoro Nguema Obiang Mangue, enjoys a seemingly smooth relationship with his boss—who also happens to be his father, President Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo.

Read:  South Sudan on edge as cracks emerge in ruling coalition

But beyond individual ambitions and betrayals, structural factors also shape these tensions. At independence, many African states adopted highly centralised systems where presidents wielded near-absolute power. Those who tasted such power grew paranoid about potential rivals. The vice presidency, by design, became a precarious position.

Additionally, many VPs are appointed not out of trust but to appease ethnic, regional, or political constituencies. If a vice president has ambitions of their own, they naturally seek to consolidate power, making them a threat to the boss.

Weak institutions also fuel instability. In some countries, the first lady, first son or daughter, or even the head of state’s personal witch doctor wield more influence than a vice president – and sometimes are the de facto presidents.

When power is informal and succession rules are unclear, chaos follows. This is often exacerbated by the lack of presidential term limits.

This instability has led to dismissals, coups, assassinations, and full-scale wars—none more devastating than South Sudan’s December 2013 conflict, triggered when Kiir first sacked Machar as vice president.

For Machar, history appears to be repeating itself. And if Africa’s past is anything to go by, his latest standoff with Kiir will not be the last chapter in the continent’s long, blood-stained book of presidential-vice presidential rivalries.

Charles Onyango-Obbo is a journalist, writer, and curator of the “Wall of Great Africans”. Twitter: @cobbo3