The Weekly Standard, Washington, DC
Thousands
have been killed or tortured by the Zimbabwean dictator. Here are
the
stories of three.
by James Kirchick
12/25/2006, Volume 012, Issue
15
Harare and Johannesburg
For 17 years, Holly
Moyo was one of the many loyal foot soldiers who
helped keep the government
of Robert Mugabe running. Like his father before
him, he served in the
Zimbabwean Republic Police, in the southern city of
Bulawayo, Zimbabwe's
second largest. He was assigned to the corps that
handles crowd control at
large protests. Over the past few years especially,
as political turmoil
increased in this once prosperous southern African
nation, his was a busy
job.
Like most black Zimbabweans, the 42-year-old husband and
father once
was a supporter of Robert Mugabe. "I still remember when he was
in jail,"
Moyo says, citing the ten-year period that began in 1964. Mugabe
became a
Mandela-like figure for the country's black majority, and in 1980
was
elected president in the country's first democratic vote. Zimbabwe soon
posted high literacy and economic growth. But by the time of the 2002
presidential election, Moyo wanted change. "Our economy was going to the
dogs," he said. And things have only gotten worse since. The country is now
crippled by 80 percent unemployment, astronomical inflation rates, and
massive shortages of food.
Many wonder why Zimbabwe has not
experienced an armed revolt under
Mugabe. One hears the complaint,
especially among blacks in the region, that
Zimbabwean blacks are too
docile, too kind, too respectful of authority for
their own good. "The
people are resigned," a Zimbabwean journalist told me.
But there are other
reasons a coup--at least a coup emanating from the
military or security
forces--is unlikely. One is the lingering awe for
Mugabe as liberation
leader that some still no doubt feel. The most acute
reason, however, is
that any dissent within the security forces, even from
low-ranking officers,
is met with a strong show of force.
Consider Holly Moyo's
experience. In the run-up to the March 2002
election, Moyo says, officers
from the Police Internal Security Intelligence
(PISI) infiltrated the police
so as "to find out who was against Mugabe." As
every major election-observer
group (except, notably, African ones) would
confirm, "Mugabe incorporated
the police into his own instruments" for
stealing the election.
So when the election finally rolled around, Moyo decided to take a
risk and
call in sick. Police officers vote at their workplaces, under the
careful
eye of their superiors, not at neutral locations like town halls or
civic
centers. Moyo says he and his colleagues were told by their boss, "You
put
your 'X' on ZANU-PF," the ruling party. "They said our salary is being
paid
for by Mugabe," Moyo recalls. "But it is being paid for by the common
people." Moyo figured that his secret ballot was the only weapon he had to
use against the dictatorship. To him, the risk was worth it.
Moyo's ploy failed. A plainclothes police spy saw him at a public
polling
place on Election Day and reported him immediately to his
supervisors. "We
know whom you voted for," Moyo was told. The police spy
even described what
Moyo had been wearing.
"My vote is my secret," Moyo responded. He
was told, "The only secrets
belong to ZANU-PF," and handed a resignation
form, which he refused to sign.
In a country with such a weak economy, his
job was his only means of caring
for his wife and children.
When he got home that day, he found PISI officers searching his house.
They
beat him, and his parents told him to "leave because you are going to
die."
But Moyo chose to stay, even to become more forthright in
his
politics. He began taking the Daily News, an independent newspaper, to
work,
in order to share it covertly with like-minded officers. The Daily
News had
suffered firebomb attacks on its Harare office; it would eventually
be shut
down.
Moyo was a dutiful employee of the police force,
but he took seriously
his public servant's pledge to uphold the rule of law.
In late 2003, in
spite of the certain political repercussions, he oversaw
the arrest of 37
ZANU-PF supporters for rioting. This was the last straw. He
and others were
accused of being "British spies and stooges." He was forced
to sign
resignation papers, was dismissed from the force in February 2004
with a
pittance for severance pay, and his house was put under 24-hour
surveillance
by the security forces.
But it was only in October
that year that things spiraled out of
control. "They came to me during the
night," Moyo recalled, familiar words
to many a Zimbabwean. At around 11
P.M., when he was on his way home from
town, six or seven men emerged from a
Land Rover and began to beat him.
"They said I was going to die for
Tsvangirai," he said, Morgan Tsvangirai
being the leader of the opposition
party, the Movement for Democratic
Change. The men took a knife to his
genitals, and Moyo soon passed out.
His wife found him. "My wife
screamed, she screamed. There was blood
everywhere." Parts of his mutilated
penis were on his knee. Neighbors took
him to the hospital where
administrators gave him a bed but denied him
treatment, other than
painkillers, for four days. Thanks to sympathetic
nurses who took him into
their care, the damage was not as bad as it could
have been, but his
testicles were "cut into pieces" and the scars of his
skinned penis will
never go away. His wife was jailed for eight days for
making a report to the
police.
After a week, he was discharged. Unable to obtain
painkillers once he
left the hospital, he started drinking heavily to dull
the pain. He keeps
photos of his wounds--"in case we want to go to court one
day."
Moyo believed it was only a matter of time before the
government
returned to finish the job. He felt he had no choice but to leave
Zimbabwe.
He sent his children to his parents' home, and on December 30,
2004, friends
helped push him through his bathroom window at 3 in the
morning so that the
men watching his house would not see him escape. He and
his wife now live in
South Africa, in a tiny, one-room house--apartheid-era
servant's quarters in
the backyard of a luxury home--in a tony northern
suburb of Johannesburg. He
hasn't seen his children for almost two years. He
was lucky to receive
political asylum. A Zimbab wean exile organization
helped cover the costs of
reconstructive surgery.
As he tells
me this, and shows me a photo of his younger self as a
proud police officer
in uniform, Moyo is in tears. "Things are going to be
okay in Zimbabwe one
day," he tells me. "We are going to go back home."
Dean du Plessis
is one of the few white people left in Zimbabwe. He is
29 years old and
blind. Most impressive about this remarkable man who
displays more joie de
vivre than most people who can see is that he has made
a name for himself as
a cricket commentator on the radio. He broadcasts
daily from 5 to 6 P.M. on
the Zimbabwe Broadcasting Corporation and has also
done commentary for the
BBC. He thinks he is the first blind sportscaster in
the world. For most of
his schooling, he attended the Pioneer School for the
Blind, in South
Africa. Aside from his disability, he is a regular guy. "I
like girls, good
beer, and loud music," he tells me when I meet him at a
favorite
bar.
But he too has been a victim of the Mugabe regime, and his
story shows
how depraved it has become.
To understand what
happened to Dean du Plessis, one must first
understand something about
Zimbabwean cricket. The national cricket team,
like nearly every other facet
of Zimbabwean life, has been forcibly
politicized in recent years. It used
to be one of the best cricket teams, if
not the best, in the world. But at
around the same time Mugabe began
authorizing violent seizures of
white-owned farms, he packed the Zimbabwe
Cricket Union with ZANU-PF hacks.
In April 2004, Heath Streak, one of the
country's best cricketers and the
national team's captain, was forced to
resign over disputes related to
racial quotas that led to the firing of many
white players. Over the past
several years, black and white players alike
have quit as a result of
political differences with those in charge. In a
December 2005 broadcast, du
Plessis stated the obvious about the condition
of Zimbabwean cricket. "I
criticized the people that run Zimbabwe cricket,"
he told me
matter-of-factly. "They don't know anything about the sport."
The
day after his broadcast, two men came to the Harare Toyota
dealership where
du Plessis works as a customer service representative. They
told him to come
with them. Although du Plessis could not see them, he knew
what they had in
mind. Still, du Plessis did not make a scene. "I didn't
want to cause any
attention," he says. "I didn't want anyone else to get
involved; it's not
fair on them."
The two men drove him for about a half hour, took
him to an
air-conditioned room, and sat him in what he describes as a
"comfortable
chair." They then played a recording of the broadcast in
question.
"Is that you?" one of the men asked.
"You
can hear my voice," du Plessis responded. "Why are you asking
me?"
Disappointed with his insubordination, the men twisted his
feet and
beat his soles with a fan belt for half an hour. This is a form of
torture
common in Mugabe's Zimbabwe, and human rights NGOs have reported its
being
perpetrated against many individuals. Known as "falanga," it is used
in
other locales and is popular with dictatorships because it leaves few
visible signs as the soles of the feet are thick and tough.
Up
until our interview, du Plessis had not spoken of this torment.
Like many Zimbabweans, he too has fond memories of Mugabe's early
years. He
met the president in 1982, when Mugabe and his widely admired
first wife,
Sally, visited du Plessis's school. The president rubbed his
head. "In those
years I was very scared of the sirens," he explains,
speaking of the
president's ubiquitous motorcade. In a foreshadowing of his
future
outspokenness, du Plessis piped up as the First Family made their way
to
their car, "Please, Mr. Mugabe, I've got a terrible headache. Please
don't
put on the sirens." The motorcade left quietly, "like sedate human
beings,"
du Plessis recalls. "Years ago Mugabe never used to be like this,"
he says,
shaking his head. "In general, he was a very good man."
Du Plessis
continues to broadcast, but he is careful about what he
says. "I love my
country. . . . Being away [at school] in South Africa I was
deprived of
growing up in the country I love so much."
Few American college
students could readily identify with the
difficulties endured by Givemore
Chari, age 23. As a student at Bindura
University of Science Education, in
the ZANU-PF stronghold of Mashona land
Central Province, Chari helped to
lead a democracy movement. Now he must do
so in exile.
Zimbabwe's system of higher education, heavily dependent on state
funds, has
suffered greatly from the country's economic unraveling, which
has
predictably led to student unrest. Student-led protests at the increase
of
tuition fees and other, more grave political provocations are a common
occurrence. At Bindura, the outspoken Chari was president of the Student
Representatives' Council. In October 2005 he was suspended, not for academic
infractions or hard partying, but for allegedly sowing "feelings of hate and
dislike."
Given Zimbabwe's 13 universities and large student
population, it is
not difficult to see why the government considers students
"a major threat
within the composition of the democratic forces" in the
country, Chari says.
He himself feels an obligation to the ordinary
Zimbabwean, whose taxes
support higher education but who often cannot send
his own children to
college. "I am bound to be his voice when he is
oppressed and is voiceless,
I am bound to speak for him. I am bound to free
that individual. Neglecting
him when I am benefiting from the tax that is
coming from his sweat is
tantamount to betrayal."
In May of
this year, Chari attended the annual conference of the
Zimbabwe National
Students Union (ZINASU) in Harare. One of President
Mugabe's ubiquitous
portraits was hanging in the conference room. "His
staying in power [after
the rigged 2002 election] was illegitimate as far as
we were concerned,"
Chari says. "The idea of respecting him and having his
picture in our
conference room was like legitimizing" his election-stealing.
So the
students carefully removed the presidential portrait and turned it
over to
the police officers standing watch. Forty-eight students including
Chari
were arrested at the end of the three-day conference on trumped-up
charges.
In prison, he and the others were "brutally assaulted"
by guards and
denied access to any sort of medical treatment or food until
the next
day--and then only after human rights lawyers intervened. Three
days later,
when Chari arrived back at school, he was promptly rearrested,
detained, and
beaten again. When released, he returned to join mass protests
at his
school. "We decided to continue with the demonstrations until our
fellow
comrades were released," he told me.
It was at this time
that he was "forcibly abducted" by intelligence
officers. He was thrown into
a brown Toyota pickup where drunken thugs beat
and spit on him, threatening
to kill him. He says he lost consciousness for
about 30 minutes yet somehow
managed to escape just as someone threw a glass
bottle at him, scarring his
face. He made his way to South Africa in late
May and was staying in
Johannesburg when I met him in mid-August.
The chances of Chari's
returning to Zimbabwe anytime soon are slim. He
told me he was planning on
leaving for another African country (which he
could not disclose) out of
fear for his safety. Zimbabwean agents have been
known to infiltrate the
exile community (estimated at between 1.5 and 3
million people) in South
Africa. "This regime can do anything," he says.
The people of
Zimbabwe could tell countless stories like these three.
What's more, men
like the three I met--nonviolent political dissenters
subjected to
torture--were lucky: They were not killed. With international
news coverage
heavily slanted toward the Middle East and what little space
is given to
Africa focused on the continuing genocide in Sudan, the crisis
of Zimbabwe
has been all but ignored. Yet we should not forget about Robert
Mugabe. As
Holly Moyo says, "He's murdered so many people. His hands are so
full of
blood."
James Kirchick is an assistant to the editor in chief of
the New
Republic.
Independent, UK
By
Stephen Castle and Andrew Grice in Brussels
Published: 16 December
2006
Britain was put firmly on the defensive yesterday by plans to revive the
European constitution at breakneck speed and moves to lift the EU's visa ban
on Zimbabwe's President, Robert Mugabe.
Spain raised the tempo over
the constitution by calling for two key meetings
in the first two months of
next year to try to find a way ahead following
the rejection of the treaty
by French and Dutch voters. A joint
Spanish-Luxembourg blueprint would see
one meeting in January involving the
18 countries that have already ratified
the constitution. The following
month would see another gathering including
France and the Netherlands,
which rejected the treaty.
The Dutch
Prime Minister Jan Peter Balkenende rejected the idea, but there
were clear
signals the debate on the constitution will return with a
vengeance in 2007.
Germany plans to draft a declaration in March to
celebrate the 50th
anniversary of the Treaty of Rome, which laid the
foundations for the EU.
This could include the rhetorical elements of the
rejected constitution -
allowing EU leaders to concentrate later on a
slimmed-down version of the
text dealing with institutional reforms.
Berlin's top diplomat in
Brussels has called for the impasse to be resolved
within a year. British
ministers played for time yesterday but rejected
demands for a halt to the
EU's expansion until the bloc's decision-making
process had been reformed by
a new treaty. "It is not Britain's point of
view," Margaret Beckett, the
Foreign Secretary, said.
Meanwhile, Portugal said that it wants to invite
all African leaders -
including Mr Mugabe - to an EU-Africa summit next
year. The Portuguese Prime
Minister, Jose Socrates, argued that the EU's
position on Mr Mugabe needed
to be changed and that "that will happen in
February", adding: "The summit
cannot be held if we do not invite all
African countries."
Sanctions against Mr Mugabe and his allies need to be
renewed in February,
and Portugal could block that process. Mrs Beckett said
that there was
"strong support" for a meeting between the EU and the African
Union, but
added that the ball was "in the court" of the AU.
After
yesterday's EU summit agreed to freeze eight of the 35 areas of
negotiation
with Turkey on its bid to join the EU, Tony Blair's official
spokesman
admitted that progress was slower than Britain had hoped for but
insisted it
was "not the end of the road".
Mr Blair left Brussels for Ankara for
talks last night with the Turkish
Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan to
urge the country to open its ports to
Cyprus.
"It is important we
continue the process to accession with Turkey and we do
not shut the door to
Turkey's membership," Mr Blair said. "We recognise this
has got an
importance not just in relation to Turkey but to wider
relationships between
the West and the Muslim world," he added.
The visit came at the start of
Mr Blair's tour of the Middle East, in which
he will try to revive the
Israel-Palestine peace process.
Britain was put firmly on the defensive
yesterday by plans to revive the
European constitution at breakneck speed
and moves to lift the EU's visa ban
on Zimbabwe's President, Robert
Mugabe.
Spain raised the tempo over the constitution by calling for two
key meetings
in the first two months of next year to try to find a way ahead
following
the rejection of the treaty by French and Dutch voters. A joint
Spanish-Luxembourg blueprint would see one meeting in January involving the
18 countries that have already ratified the constitution. The following
month would see another gathering including France and the Netherlands,
which rejected the treaty.
The Dutch Prime Minister Jan Peter
Balkenende rejected the idea, but there
were clear signals the debate on the
constitution will return with a
vengeance in 2007. Germany plans to draft a
declaration in March to
celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Treaty of
Rome, which laid the
foundations for the EU. This could include the
rhetorical elements of the
rejected constitution - allowing EU leaders to
concentrate later on a
slimmed-down version of the text dealing with
institutional reforms.
Berlin's top diplomat in Brussels has called for
the impasse to be resolved
within a year. British ministers played for time
yesterday but rejected
demands for a halt to the EU's expansion until the
bloc's decision-making
process had been reformed by a new treaty. "It is not
Britain's point of
view," Margaret Beckett, the Foreign Secretary,
said.
Meanwhile, Portugal said that it wants to invite all African
leaders -
including Mr Mugabe - to an EU-Africa summit next year. The
Portuguese Prime
Minister, Jose Socrates, argued that the EU's position on
Mr Mugabe needed
to be changed and that "that will happen in February",
adding: "The summit
cannot be held if we do not invite all African
countries."
Sanctions against Mr Mugabe and his allies need to be renewed
in February,
and Portugal could block that process. Mrs Beckett said that
there was
"strong support" for a meeting between the EU and the African
Union, but
added that the ball was "in the court" of the AU.
After
yesterday's EU summit agreed to freeze eight of the 35 areas of
negotiation
with Turkey on its bid to join the EU, Tony Blair's official
spokesman
admitted that progress was slower than Britain had hoped for but
insisted it
was "not the end of the road".
Mr Blair left Brussels for Ankara for
talks last night with the Turkish
Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan to
urge the country to open its ports to
Cyprus.
"It is important we
continue the process to accession with Turkey and we do
not shut the door to
Turkey's membership," Mr Blair said. "We recognise this
has got an
importance not just in relation to Turkey but to wider
relationships between
the West and the Muslim world," he added.
The visit came at the start of
Mr Blair's tour of the Middle East, in which
he will try to revive the
Israel-Palestine peace process.
Reuters
Sat Dec 16, 2006 5:55 PM GMT
GOROMONZI, Zimbabwe (Reuters) - Zimbabwe's
ruling party on Saturday approved
a preliminary move to extend President
Robert Mugabe's rule by two more
years.
An annual conference of
Mugabe's ZANU-PF party adopted a motion to move
presidential polls from 2008
to 2010 so they can be held at the same time as
parliamentary
elections.
ZANU-PF national chairman John Nkomo said the resolutions
proposed at the
conference had been noted and adopted, and would be passed
to the party's
policy-making central committee.
The main opposition
has condemned the proposal -- which will become
effective once passed by
parliament -- as the work of a dictatorship and
says Mugabe, 82 and in power
since independence from Britain in 1980, has
nothing more to offer the
country.
Reuters
Sat Dec 16, 2006 12:42 PM GMT
By MacDonald
Dzirutwe
GOROMONZI, Zimbabwe (Reuters) - Zimbabwe's ruling party met on
Saturday to
discuss ways of reversing the country's economic meltdown, but
those talks
were overshadowed by a debate on extending President Robert
Mugabe's rule.
An annual conference of Mugabe's ZANU-PF party is expected
to wrap up late
on Saturday with a number of resolutions, including
proposals to move
presidential elections from 2008 to 2010 -- effectively
giving Mugabe two
more years in office.
Eight out of 10 provinces of
his ruling ZANU-PF party are backing a plan to
scrap the 2008 vote so that
it will be "harmonised" and held at the same
time as parliamentary elections
in 2010.
The proposal, which the opposition calls the work of a
dictatorship, was not
discussed when Mugabe opened the meeting on Friday,
but analysts said
despite statements that the conference was mainly
concerned with the
economy, ZANU-PF was focused on elections
issue.
"It is very clear that the 'harmonisation' issue is overshadowing
the
economic agenda, which is also the biggest public agenda item," Eldred
Masunungure, political science lecturer at the University of Zimbabwe, told
Reuters.
"But that is because ZANU-PF is bereft of economic ideas and
is seized with
political issues which it's more adept to," he
added.
Zimbabwe is in the grips of a severe economic crisis, dramatised
by the
highest inflation rate in the world at 1,098.8 percent, a shrinking
gross
domestic product, rocketing unemployment and rising poverty
levels.
Critics say Mugabe's policies, such as his controversial seizure
of
white-owned farms for blacks, have worsened the crisis and fanned
political
tensions in the country.
But the 82-year-old Mugabe accuses
the West, primarily Britain, of launching
a sabotage campaign to punish his
government for the land seizures.
On Friday he accused Western powers of
trying to unseat his government but
vowed it would not collapse.
"We
will never allow any country, no matter how wealthy, no matter how
powerful,
to interfere with our political affairs and to try and dominate
us," Mugabe
told cheering supporters, who also sang encouraging him to rule
indefinitely.
The veteran Zimbabwean leader, sole ruler since
independence from Britain in
1980, had in the past indicated he could step
down at the end of the current
six-year term in 2008.
Mugabe has so
far made no mention of moves by ZANU-PF to extend his term,
but this week he
told members that there were no vacancies for the party's
top leadership
posts.
Critics say prolonging Mugabe's rule will only compound the
problems facing
Zimbabwe, with his government isolated by key Western
countries and the
economy on the brink of collapse.
"The issue of
governance is fundamental if we are to revive the economic
crisis we are
facing but the path taken by ZANU-PF -- of self
preservation -- only seeks
to worsen the economic situation," leading
private economist John Robertson
said.
(
From The Daily Telegraph (UK), 16 December
The BAE controversy is not over yet.
Russell Hotten and David Litterick
report
It was the news BAE
Systems had waited two-and-a-half years to hear. A fraud
probe into alleged
corruption between the defence company and Saudi Arabia
was over. The
circumstances under which the investigation was terminated
were not to
everyone's liking, but at least BAE staff had more than just
Christmas to
celebrate at their annual party on Thursday night. And yet,
this affair is
by no means over. The claims, always denied by BAE and the
Saudi government,
will continue to dog the company. Possible legal action
being considered by
anti-arms campaigners and questions from the
Organisation for Economic
Co-operation and Development may still embarrass
the British Government or
the company. Politicians and lawyers in the US,
where there has been
criticism of Britain's record on stamping out
corruption, may turn up the
heat. What's more, amid the furore over Prime
Minister Tony Blair's order
that the Saudi probe be halted, it was forgotten
that BAE is still linked to
several ongoing Serious Fraud Office
investigations.
BAE's
carefully worded statement on Thursday that it welcomes the ending of
the
investigations "as far as they relate to the Al Yamamah contract"
underlines
that the company is not out of the woods. Because, there are SFO
probes into
BAE deals involving Romania, Tanzania, Chile, the Czech Republic
and South
Africa. And the SFO insisted yesterday that these investigations
continue
and are making progress. These inquiries relate to agents said to
be working
on behalf of BAE. The Tanzania contract involved selling a £28m
airport
radar system to one of Africa's poorest nations, despite protests
from,
among others, Clare Short, the then International Development
Secretary. And
in October the SFO raided the offices of a businessman, John
Bredenkamp,
over arms sales by BAE to South Africa. The company denies
wrongdoing and
says it has always operated within the law. Whatever the
outcome of these
investigations, the UK may need to repair damage done to
its international
standing as an opponent of bribery and corruption. The
OECD, which leads a
campaign among the 30 richest nations to outlaw bribery
by companies or
their agents, takes a dim view of recent events. Yesterday,
the man who
leads the OECD's working party on bribery said he was concerned
at
Thursday's decision.
Britain is a signatory to the 1999 Convention on
Bribery of Public Officials
in International Business Transactions. Article
5 says: "Investigation and
prosecution of the bribery of a foreign public
official . shall not be
influenced by considerations of national economic
interest, the potential
effect upon relations with another state or the
identity of the natural or
legal persons involved." Last year, the working
party looked at the UK's
record at tackling corruption, and did not like
what it found. Its report
talked of "a prominent UK defence contractor" and
"foreign public
officials", widely believed to refer to BAE and Saudi
Arabia. The report
said: "The UK's handling of this case raises a number of
serious concerns"
including "the adequacy of checks and balances regarding
decisions by
investigatory agencies to not investigate serious allegations
of foreign
bribery". BAE has ridden out similar storms, and the jump in its
share price
yesterday shows that investors think there is little to worry
about. Even in
the US, BAE remains unaffected. In 2002, Anthony Wayne, the
then assistant
secretary for economic and business affairs, noted "a
longstanding,
widespread pattern of bribery allegations involving BAE
Systems".
Nevertheless, BAE successfully bought United Defence, and has been
awarded a
contract worth $1.16bn from the US Army to upgrade 610 Bradley
armoured
vehicles (pictured above) and to provide spare components. Britain
has just
also signed a memorandum of understanding with the US over
development of
the Joint Strike Fighter which would see BAE Systems as a key
contractor
being given access to important US security information.
Dear Family and Friends,
"Congratulations! You are a grandfather!" These
were the words that greeted
my friend Patson when he arrived back in the
rural village after another
arduous week working in the nearby town. His wife
was sitting there outside
their house holding a tiny baby in her arms. This
miniscule little baby was
Patson's grandson. Patson did not know his first
born son had a girlfriend
or that she was pregnant. For a while Patson just
stared at his wife and
the baby and the young teenage mother who sat nearby.
She was still a child
herself and had not even finished school. The girl had
given birth to the
baby at her own rural village but then her mother had said
she had no money
and would not support them. They must go to the father of
the baby - he and
his parents must take this responsibility.
Patson
said that as the reality of the grandchild sunk in he got angrier
and
angrier.Patson is the only member of the family who is employed and
the
burden is very heavy. With his very small wage he already supports his
wife
and two children, he buys all the food,toiletries, medicines, seeds
and
fertilizer. He pays school fees for his two children and always has
the
worry of how to buy any of the clothes, shoes and school uniforms
needed.
Now, with the grandchild, the burden had increased by three. Patson
said
"the load is just too heavy for me now."
For a whole day Patson
would not speak to anyone. The congratulatory jokes
and calls from neighbours
in the village just enraged him more. He could
not think of anything
positive. He did not experience any of the emotions
of being a grandparent -
pride, euphoria, amazement, delight, joy and the
desire to tell the whole
world of the momentous news. Patson said all he
could think about was how on
earth he was going to cope with all this now.
The baby had nothing at all and
so much was needed. Nappies, clothes, a
blanket, a towel, cotton wool,
vaseline - the list just went on and on.
For a while Patson tried not to
think about his new grandson and the
overwhelming burden of
responsibility.
Patson was just 19 when Zimbabwe became Independent and
Robert Mugabe came
to power. Patson's son was born when Robert Mugabe was
still in power and
now his grandson has just been born and still Mr Mugabe is
in power. Patson
thought about the news of the week, President Mugabe saying
that there were
"No Vacancies in the Presidency." Just as Patson could not
accept a new
grandson, it seemed that the President also could not accept
anyone else to
lead Zimbabwe.
At the end of the first day Patson's
wife came in but he would still not
speak to her or take food from her.
Quietly she put the thin, naked baby
down on the ground behind her husband.
"Your musukuru (grandson) is at your
back" she said to him. Patson said he
didn't move or respond but after a
while he felt tiny feet kicking him and
then he heard, for the first time,
the voice of his grandson who began to
cry. He turned and looked, and
loved. This was his blood. A new Zimbabwean
has been born, the child has no
name yet, his beginnings will be impossibly
difficult but with life comes
hope. Until next week, thanks for reading. love
cathy. Copyright cathy
buckle. 16 December
2006
http:/africantears.netfirms.com
People's Daily
Zimbabwe is looking forward to expanding its
cooperation with Asian
countries to develop its economy, Vice President
Joyce Mujuru said in Harare
on Friday.
She said Zimbabwe was
currently receiving substantial support from
Asian countries for its
agricultural sector, and would want to extend the
cooperation to areas such
as mining, transport, communications and energy
development.
"There are countries in Asia willing to do business with us," she said
during an address at the opening session of the ninth Zanu-PF people's
annual conference at Goromonzi High School, 46 kilometers east of
Harare.
Zimbabwe adopted a Look East policy a few years ago after
the west
imposed sanctions on the country and cut-off balance of payments
support
over the land reform program which the government embarked on 2000
to
resettle landless blacks.
Mujuru said Zimbabwe was under
siege from western countries opposed to
the resettlement program which had
seen thousands of previously marginalized
blacks get land.
The
detractors, she said, were unrelenting in their onslaught on
Zimbabwe but
commended President Robert Mugabe for remaining focused and
resolute in
defending the country.
She challenged beneficiaries of the land
reform program to fully
utilize the land to boost food production in the
country, and urged the
government to revive irrigation schemes to improve
food production.
"In the next couple of years, we want Zimbabwe to
regain its status of
being the bread basket not only for southern Africa but
Africa as a whole,"
she said.
Source: Xinhua
Independent, UK
Economic collapse has forced Zimbabwe to reconsider its notorious land
reform policy
By a Special Correspondent in Zimbabwe
Published: 17
December 2006
President Robert Mugabe's regime in Zimbabwe, which has mounted
a six-year
campaign to seize white-owned farms, is beginning to allow some
white
farmers to return to their land as the country faces starvation and
economic
collapse.
Since November, 19 white farmers who lost
ownership of their land have been
granted 99-year government-backed leases
on resettled farms. "We wanted to
come back, because it's home," one farmer
told The Independent on Sunday on
his 100-hectare farm outside the capital,
Harare, where he is planning to
grow maize and tobacco. "Farming has been in
my family for generations.
We're just happy to be back on the
land."
There are only about 600 white farmers left in Zimbabwe, down from
4,500 in
1999. That was the year Mr Mugabe was defeated in a referendum;
from 2000
the government decided to "fast-track" land reform in an effort to
win over
a hostile electorate, resulting in farm seizures by supporters of
the ruling
Zanu-PF party who claimed to be landless veterans of the
country's war for
independence. Dozens of white farmers and black farm
workers were killed in
violent land seizures.
In July 2005 Mr Mugabe
declared that his land reform policy would only be
complete when there was
"not a single white on the farms". But a contracting
economy, hyperinflation
and severe food shortages have forced the
authorities to allow some
interested whites to return. The Land Minister,
Flora Buka, said the
government had received more than 200 applications so
far from whites to
take up farming again.
"It is a radical change of policy at this stage -
but the future remains to
be seen," said Eric Bloch, a Bulawayo-based
economic adviser. "Are there
going to be 19 token whites, or will the
government continue?"
The need for land reform after independence in 1980
was generally
acknowledged, even by the commercial farming sector, as a
necessary reversal
of British colonial-era injustices, when whites were
given the best arable
land at the expense of landless blacks. But many
expropriated farms were
given to political allies, often ending up in the
hands of cabinet
ministers, while many poor black farmers, in whose name the
land reform was
carried out, were left to fend for
themselves.
Stranded without capital and fertiliser, and hit by
persistent drought, many
of the new farmers failed to use the land
productively, transforming
Zimbabwe from the bread-basket of southern Africa
into a net food importer,
and sending inflation soaring. The government has
issued 275 leases so far
in a bid to boost food production, but nearly two
million Zimbabweans will
need food aid in the next six months, according to
the UN-backed World Food
Programme.
"Farming is dead in the water,"
said John Robertson, a political analyst.
"The banks won't accept the farms
as collateral, and farmers can be removed
within 90 days if they fail to
comply with government requirements."
There is no sign that Mr Mugabe is
preparing to ease his grip on power.
Zanu-PF is about to postpone the 2008
presidential election until
parliamentary elections in 2010, officially as a
"cost-saving measure". But
a senior loyalist has suggested that he should be
made president for life.
Opening the annual Zanu-PF conference on Friday,
this year entitled
"Consolidating Independence through Land Reform", Mr
Mugabe vowed that his
country would not collapse in the face of Western
pressure and "illegal"
sanctions. "I know we are in difficult times... [But]
Zimbabwe will never
collapse," he told 3,000 cheering
delegates.
Inflation, however, has now touched 1,100 per cent, and it may
be too late
to persuade more than a handful of white farmers to return. "A
lot of the
whites just gave up and emigrated out of the country," said a man
who lost
his farm in 2001. "Now you have white Zimbabweans farming in
Zambia, South
Africa, and even Nigeria. Others went to the UK or Australia -
and most will
not come back."
President Robert Mugabe's regime in
Zimbabwe, which has mounted a six-year
campaign to seize white-owned farms,
is beginning to allow some white
farmers to return to their land as the
country faces starvation and economic
collapse.
Since November, 19
white farmers who lost ownership of their land have been
granted 99-year
government-backed leases on resettled farms. "We wanted to
come back,
because it's home," one farmer told The Independent on Sunday on
his
100-hectare farm outside the capital, Harare, where he is planning to
grow
maize and tobacco. "Farming has been in my family for generations.
We're
just happy to be back on the land."
There are only about 600 white
farmers left in Zimbabwe, down from 4,500 in
1999. That was the year Mr
Mugabe was defeated in a referendum; from 2000
the government decided to
"fast-track" land reform in an effort to win over
a hostile electorate,
resulting in farm seizures by supporters of the ruling
Zanu-PF party who
claimed to be landless veterans of the country's war for
independence.
Dozens of white farmers and black farm workers were killed in
violent land
seizures.
In July 2005 Mr Mugabe declared that his land reform policy
would only be
complete when there was "not a single white on the farms". But
a contracting
economy, hyperinflation and severe food shortages have forced
the
authorities to allow some interested whites to return. The Land
Minister,
Flora Buka, said the government had received more than 200
applications so
far from whites to take up farming again.
"It is a
radical change of policy at this stage - but the future remains to
be seen,"
said Eric Bloch, a Bulawayo-based economic adviser. "Are there
going to be
19 token whites, or will the government continue?"
The need for land
reform after independence in 1980 was generally
acknowledged, even by the
commercial farming sector, as a necessary reversal
of British colonial-era
injustices, when whites were given the best arable
land at the expense of
landless blacks. But many expropriated farms were
given to political allies,
often ending up in the hands of cabinet
ministers, while many poor black
farmers, in whose name the land reform was
carried out, were left to fend
for themselves.
Stranded without capital and fertiliser, and hit by
persistent drought, many
of the new farmers failed to use the land
productively, transforming
Zimbabwe from the bread-basket of southern Africa
into a net food importer,
and sending inflation soaring. The government has
issued 275 leases so far
in a bid to boost food production, but nearly two
million Zimbabweans will
need food aid in the next six months, according to
the UN-backed World Food
Programme.
"Farming is dead in the water,"
said John Robertson, a political analyst.
"The banks won't accept the farms
as collateral, and farmers can be removed
within 90 days if they fail to
comply with government requirements."
There is no sign that Mr Mugabe is
preparing to ease his grip on power.
Zanu-PF is about to postpone the 2008
presidential election until
parliamentary elections in 2010, officially as a
"cost-saving measure". But
a senior loyalist has suggested that he should be
made president for life.
Opening the annual Zanu-PF conference on Friday,
this year entitled
"Consolidating Independence through Land Reform", Mr
Mugabe vowed that his
country would not collapse in the face of Western
pressure and "illegal"
sanctions. "I know we are in difficult times... [But]
Zimbabwe will never
collapse," he told 3,000 cheering
delegates.
Inflation, however, has now touched 1,100 per cent, and it may
be too late
to persuade more than a handful of white farmers to return. "A
lot of the
whites just gave up and emigrated out of the country," said a man
who lost
his farm in 2001. "Now you have white Zimbabweans farming in
Zambia, South
Africa, and even Nigeria. Others went to the UK or Australia -
and most will
not come back."