Today the 72-year-old was to make his case in a speech at the ANC's final election rally, hoping to avoid a repeat of the unprecedented booing he received at the same stadium during Nelson Mandela's memorial service.
While the party is assured of a fifth consecutive victory on Wednesday, if it polls less than 60 per cent of the vote, senior ANC figures - who have spent much of the campaign finding ways to apologise - will probably be panicked into wielding the dagger against him.
In Nkandla, Ngonyama, 46, says: "Chances are slim that the majority of people here will vote for him."
Ngonyama's children live with his parents since he lost his home to a fire in 2009. His home is a shack without water and he looks with disbelief on Zuma's folly. "We don't have houses. We can't even begin to explain the reasoning behind the expenditure of such an amount of money for one man."
The Nkandla affair is seen by many as the ultimate symbol of an African National Congress that is rotten to the core. Abusing public funds to build private mansions was once the preserve of kleptocrats elsewhere in Africa, such as Mobutu Sese Seko in Congo or Jean-Bedel Bokassa in the Central African Republic. South Africa, under founding President Nelson Mandela, believed it was different.
But the spiralling costs at what was once billed as Zuma's Camp David prompted rival politicians to lay criminal charges and call for his impeachment. One commentator described it as "worse than Watergate".
The President has repeatedly insisted he paid for the buildings from his own pocket, but South Africa's public protector accused him of unethical conduct and told him to repay the costs of a swimming pool, amphitheatre, visitor centre, cattle enclosure and chicken coop, all built as part of a state-funded upgrade. So far there is no sign of him doing so.
The sprawling homestead is a jarring sight in one of the world's most unequal societies. It was described as "opulence on a grand scale" by the public protector, who remarked that it "leaves one with the impression of excessive and unconscionable 'Rolls-Royce' security constituting an island in a sea of poverty".
Allister Sparks, a columnist on Business Day, wrote: "Nkandlagate is about personal greed and moral shamelessness. It is about looting public money so that one man and his family can live in extravagant opulence for the rest of their lives - amid some of his people's most abject poverty."
Indeed, since I last visited this remote village five years ago on the eve of Zuma's election, precious little has changed: donkeys and cows graze by the roadside, boys in ragged T-shirts wield sticks, and modest mud-brick thatched huts dot the hills. Precious little, that is, except the luxury residence with its helipad, bulletproof windows and 3m-high military-grade security fence, which looked like a construction site in 2009 but is now fit for a king.
Back then, Zuma was regarded with hope: an impoverished Zulu herd boy and former inmate of Robben Island, he had risen to become the most powerful man in Africa. Singing, dancing and showing the common touch, he appeared to be a breath of fresh air. So to critics, the Nkandla estate represents a betrayal of the people all the more painful as they contemplate how the millions could have been spent for general benefit.
Of 114,416 people living in the area, about 40 per cent are unemployed. Only 10,000 households have electricity, 7000 have no access to piped water and 12,000 rely on pit toilets. On Saturday, watched by guards in red T-shirts with rifles, residents gathered for a meeting on a hill overlooking Zuma's homestead.
Arthur Thamsanqa Ntuli, Mayor of Nkandla, thought about 90 per cent of those present were jobless. "We also have a lot of people who do not get water," he said. "Even when there are pipes, sometimes people go a month without water. And we still have large areas where there is no electricity. The people of Nkandla, 20 years after the beginning of democracy, are still left behind in terms of the provision of services required."
Ntuli, a member of Mangosuthu Buthelezi's Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), said the ANC had lost a local byelection after Nkandlagate broke.
"The fact that his municipality is led by the IFP is evidence that the majority in Nkandla have decided to turn their backs on the President and the ANC. The way people vote in national elections is often different, but we hope the ANC won't get the same as in 2009."
Some fear to speak out against Zuma in a province with a long history of violence; according to crime researcher David Bruce, there have been more than 100 assassinations there in the past decade. Sthandiwe Hlongwane, who lives a short walk from the estate, says: "I cannot comment on the situation because that could be risky for me. It could put my life in danger."
"There are people supporting Julius Malema [leader of the Economic Freedom Fighters party] but they aren't coming out. They say the only way to do it is go to the polls. They are scared to come out in public."
There are still plenty of yellow ANC T-shirts in evidence in Nkandla, and Zuma's face adorns countless lamp-posts. KwaZulu-Natal was the only province where the party's share of the vote increased in 2009 and, with the IFP a fading force, this stronghold could be decisive in pushing the ANC towards a two-thirds majority.
Zuma, who won the last election just after more than 700 bribery and corruption charges were dropped against him, has shown his powers of survival.
But elsewhere, in urban centres and among the middle class, Nkandlagate follows him like a shadow.
The saga has also split the ANC. Some party stalwarts have even asked people to vote tactically against it, either by voting for a small party or spoiling their ballot.
Addressing a room packed with mineworkers and the unemployed in Johannesburg last week, Ronnie Kasrils, a former Intelligence Minister, said: "We are saying that what is more important than the party is the ideas of the party, and it's the ideas that we are defending."
- Observer
