African Tour Sets First Lady Apart From Detractors, Predecessors

SOWETO, South Africa — It is late in a day that began in another country, and the first lady of the United States has just paid tribute to a young boy who died in the struggle against apartheid.

Then bedlam: Hillary Rodham Clinton bolts past the waiting gray Mercedes, slips under a rope line and heads straight for a mob of poor people stranded on the other side of a fence. Secret Service agents scramble. Photographers stampede. Locals shriek.

“They were literally grabbing her hand and weren’t letting go,” said Neel Lattimore, an aide who was by the first lady’s side.

Few in the crowd know they are touching perhaps the most controversial first lady in U.S. history, the only White House spouse ever to spark the interest of an independent counsel, a polarizing personality who inspires a multitude of reactions at home.

Nor does it matter: Here in Africa, Hillary Rodham Clinton is First Villager as well as first lady, grass-roots activist as well as goodwill ambassador, a human spotlight on local success stories, an exporter of thoughts on matters from child prostitution to investment capital. Separated by thousands of miles from her domestic travails, she is showing overseas travel is a way to suit her far-reaching aims, please foreign audiences and serve U.S. diplomacy--all quite smoothly.

Visiting a village “health hut” in Senegal, giving an English lesson to Zulu-speaking kids, planting a tree of peace with retired Anglican Archbishop Desmond M. Tutu, the first lady’s causes are the same here as in the United States: the well-being of children, empowerment of women, decent health care, opportunity for society’s have-nots.

But the backdrop is different. Nobody talks about Whitewater or White House travel office firings or Democratic fund-raising. Instead, people see a smiling symbol of America, a celebrity trailed by cameras, police and local dignitaries. Some ask her to return one day with “Bill.” Most are polite if not downright reverent. A few even know of her book, “It Takes a Village,” which took an African proverb for its title.

“We are proud to see you here,” said Tokyo Sexwale, an official in Soweto, where the first lady was visiting the memorial to 13-year-old Hector Petersen. “We are the villagers.”

The odyssey through six African nations, which ends with a return to Washington today, is the first lady’s ninth tour overseas, a record that would have been unfeasible for her predecessors who lived before jet travel. Eleanor Roosevelt, who was dubbed “First Lady of the World,” earned the moniker only after she had left the White House and served as delegate to the United Nations in the 1950s.

Mrs. Clinton, by contrast, represents her husband’s White House; her message an overlap of official U.S. and personal priorities. The emphasis on women’s rights, which she highlights at most stops, is a rising priority of Madeleine Albright’s State Department.

Overall, her strategy of spotlighting social problems and innovative solutions on the world stage “may be her most enduring legacy,” said historian Lewis L. Gould of the University of Texas.

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In Soweto, a first-grade classroom is filled with wide-eyed children in tidy blue sweaters and gleaming white shirts. Mrs. Clinton is watching the Zulu-speaking kids learn English. Today’s lesson is about “inside” and “outside.”

Teacher: “Tell me what is outside the classroom?”

Little girl: “Police are outside the classroom.”

It’s the first lady’s turn to be in charge of the class. “Picture No. 4--that’s a monkey,” she says. “Can you say, ‘That’s a monkey?’ . . . Way back there, you had your hand up.” Even as time runs out, she can’t resist a parting lesson. “WE are going outside,” she instructs the pupils. “But YOU are staying inside.”

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Hillary Clinton is not the first White House spouse to hit a public nerve. Starting with Martha Washington, who endured popular wrath after her husband asked Congress to give her a stipend, first ladies have suffered from harsh scrutiny and shifting cultural mores.

Still, some of the hassles have been unique to Mrs. Clinton, whose public image is blurred by an array of questions involving her conduct in the Whitewater land deal and other flaps, as well as a blunt, unapologetic manner that her critics find grating. Is she the idealistic advocate of children, a behind-the-scenes White House operator, the “conscience” of her husband, another clever lawyer or some complex combination of traits?

“I don’t have any trouble believing both Hillarys--Hillary as the political operator and Hillary as the genuine advocate for women and children,” said Bruce Miroff, a political scientist at the State University of New York at Albany.

What may not always survive the media filter is that the first lady can be disarming and funny. In Senegal, she regaled Peace Corps workers with the tale of a middle-of-the-night phone call from her husband right after he hurt his knee: “He said, ‘Well, you gotta go to Africa.’ And I thought, ‘This man is really delirious.’ ”

But the humor is not always there. In argument, she may convey an almost righteous self-certainty. For example, at a women’s round-table forum in Johannesburg, she offered little quarter to a local official who suggested regulating the commercial sex industry rather than eliminating it.

Don’t send parents a message, she cautioned, “that they might sell their girls profitably into this trade.”

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In Saam Njaay, a sandy enclave of 300 people who live without electricity and use a stove made of clay and cow dung so “the goats can’t knock it over,” residents wish to give a new name to their honored guest from America. They come up with “Ayda Njaay,” after their own outspoken, assertive schoolteacher.

“She says what she thinks,” a village elder explains to the first lady. “We thought that would be a good name for you.”

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The official reasons for Mrs. Clinton’s two-week Africa stint include demonstrating America’s interest in the region in the post-Cold War era, and support for Africa’s struggle toward democracy.

But clearly, something else is going on: To the first lady, the world is a sprawling, interconnected village, where lessons gleaned from a health clinic in Bangladesh may be applied in the United States, where Thailand’s experience with child prostitution may have meaning for Zimbabwe, where a housing program in Cape Town may be a model for homeless families thousands of miles away.

“She tries to show that what works in Thailand or Indonesia can be applied in Baltimore, what works in one part of the country can work in another part of the country,” said Melanne Verveer, a top aide. “This gives her enormous pleasure. To make connections.”

Throughout Mrs. Clinton’s journey, rumblings of civil war in Zaire provide almost a subliminal reminder of the powerful, uncontained forces that remain loose on the continent, a graphic contrast to the first lady’s carefully choreographed activities.

At the University of Cape Town, a venue visited by Robert F. Kennedy in the heyday of apartheid 31 years ago, she seeks to address the larger issues, notably the challenge of building a multiracial democracy.

“The world is watching, and the democratic world stands with you,” she proclaimed in the school’s modern, round auditorium.

While such appearances may not be considered major news, some analysts believe that they offer multiple benefits for the first lady.

She is elevated by the role of roving ambassador, and is seen in settings that are unlikely to result in negative media or reminders of the various flaps in Washington.

“When people see her at home, she’s part of the partisan framework and the gender framework,” said Michael Genovese, founder of the Institute for Leadership Studies at Loyola Marymount University in Marina del Rey. “When people see her overseas, she’s a symbol of America. She speaks with a different authority. . . . It’s a much more natural fit for her talents.”

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It is question-and-answer time at the University of Cape Town. Someone asks Mrs. Clinton if she believes a woman will soon be elected president of the United States. “Hope springs eternal,” she quips. “I have thought a lot about this--strictly as a student of political science.”

She then sets forth the argument that it is easier for women to become leaders in parliamentary systems, where they can win over a constituency of lawmakers, than in America, where women face all the “preconceptions and stereotypes” held by the public at large.

Nevertheless, her enthusiasm rising, she predicts that the United States will have a female president within 20 years, “and I will follow with great interest how her spouse is treated.”