BARNEY MTHOMBOTHI: A lingering Zuma makes Ramaphosa seem weak

Cyril Ramaphosa and Emmerson Mnangagwa looked like two happy siblings as they stood smiling in the snow in Davos this week. Their wardrobes also seemed to have been choreographed: dark suits, white shirts, reddish ties and the obligatory scarves denoting the colours of their respective countries, which everybody seems fond of wearing at the World Economic Forum.

And their message to the forum was similar; even the form of words used was identical.

Mnangagwa: Zimbabwe is open for business.

Ramaphosa: South Africa is open for business.

They were like twins joined at the hip, and indeed they are. The fates of their countries are obviously tied together, but their whole Davos trip is an unmistakable, almost unapologetic, rebuke of the sins of the administrations of which they were not an insignificant part. Even Ramaphosa's overall message of renewal is a disavowal of what's going on in the country at the moment.

Here they were in Davos, the epicentre of capitalism, pleading with moguls and magnates: "Come and rescue us from the consequences of our own stupidity."

Mnangagwa's demeanour was striking. Gone were the bravado, the devil-may-care attitude and recklessness of the Robert Mugabe regime. He was almost meek as a mouse, pleading with the outside world to come and invest in Zimbabwe, even appealing to Donald Trump - his racist putdown of Africa notwithstanding - to build golf courses and hotels in Victoria Falls. Beggars can't be choosers.

He would, he told prospective investors, do anything to make life comfortable for them. He'd do away with all the bad practices and policies of the past. For instance, on the question of land, he said: "We don't think along racial lines ... it's outdated."

Indigenisation policy, which mandated that locals should have a majority stake in all key industries, is all but gone.

These were the cornerstones of Mugabe's policies. His legacy has been stood on its head. It's a revolution. Or a counter-revolution to some, but it's a denunciation of what set Zimbabwe on the road to ruin. Mnangagwa's policy mantra is: jobs, jobs, jobs. He has no alternative. Unemployment is now estimated at 90%. The penny has finally dropped that the masses don't and can't eat ideology.

It's almost impossible to believe that barely two months ago, Mnangagwa was on the run from Mugabe's goons and, he says, living in fear of his life. Now he's in Davos pleading with the world to invest in the country of which he's now president.

Mnangagwa has, with a little help from the army, at least got rid of Mugabe. Ramaphosa is still dancing around Zuma. He probably wants either to remove or manage him by remote control.

But Ramaphosa seemed to find his voice once outside the country. He was bolder and more forceful in his pronouncements. It's almost as if distance from home and Zuma, or the international scrutiny or scepticism, compelled him not to mince his words.

He was forthright on the need to deal with corruption, the state capture inquiry, and that those involved should be harshly dealt with by the criminal justice system. The investigating authorities, after years of dragging their feet, seem to have got the message.

Ramaphosa arrives home this weekend to find that his secretary-general, Ace Magashule, has been raided by the Hawks in a sordid affair that involves the Guptas. And while he was away, Magashule uttered probably the gaffe of the decade. "The Guptas are good business people," he said of the family that employs his son.

How does Ramaphosa's anticorruption message emerge unscathed from this miasma? And can Zuma deliver the state of the nation address next month without tarnishing Ramaphosa's reputation or even rendering him weak and feeble? Something will have to give.

It's not only Zuma he needs to take out; his courtiers must go too. Baggage that Ramaphosa took with him to Davos included some of Zuma's fervent supporters. Malusi Gigaba is the chief enabler of what we now know as state capture. Maite Nkoana-Mashabane has been dubbed Zuma's imbongi. Even poor Nathi Nhleko, whose portfolio is public works, tagged along. God knows what he was doing there. Maybe there's a fire pool in Davos that needed his attention.

A new team under a new leader needs to take charge. The country, its people and indeed the world that Ramaphosa was so keen to address this week need some certainty. Enough of the fudge.

Ramaphosa says care should be taken not to humiliate Zuma. Apparently, unbeknown to us, the old bruiser is a pretty delicate little creature.

But no, this sounds suspiciously like an excuse to do nothing, even a sign of cowardice. In politics, humiliation comes with the territory. Enoch Powell, the late British rabble-rouser, once famously remarked that all political careers end in failure. Loss of power is in itself a humiliation. There's no way to avoid it.

But it's not as if Zuma is given to playing nice with his enemies, or even his colleagues. This, after all, is the man who heaped humiliation upon humiliation on Thabo Mbeki in Polokwane, and later even called him a dead snake. And some of Ramaphosa's supporters will swear that humiliation is what their man has suffered under Zuma for the past five years.

Humiliation would be to leave Zuma in office for an indefinite period, with or without undefined powers. He will be caught between a rock and a hard place. The country will be even worse off. He should be put out of his misery. Pronto.