On Thursday I spent time with an amazing woman working to expose the brutality of the Mugabe regime. She said to me that she thinks her work doesn’t make a blind bit of difference. It does.

Last night I was with one of my closest comrades who was miserable because we’re not doing enough to draw attention to the continued, unacceptable detention of 14 Women of Zimbabwe Arise (WOZA) activists. We aren’t.

On Friday I dropped two increasingly frail Zimbabweans off at the airport. I was tightly embraced and told to be careful in the next few weeks. On the way back into town I encountered a truck load of militant youths in Zanu PF t-shirts chanting and sloganeering. I tried not to feel afraid. I was.

Yesterday I thought I’d Do Some Shopping before the money I had in the bank evaporated care of Mugabe’s record inflation. I trolleyed up and got to the till and the power went. With a shrug I bought the most important item with the small amount of cash I had on me. Anyone for white bread rolls?

Today I tried shopping, again. This time the power held good but paying for my trolley of goods took longer than selecting them. My bank card had to be swiped 20 times to process the payment. That’s a purchase of about US$50. Remain calm I said to myself. I did.

In the words of Zimbabweans, from different corners of our country . . .

Can someone help As I am writing this mail there is massive killing of people for political affiliation reasons, destruction of houses and ploughing down of crops in Mutambara Gonzoni area. Can anyone please help STOP this wave of political violence.

We have established that there are at least 15 Militia re-education / torture camps situated around Chiredzi, all within a 50km radius: -

One a hundred meters from the Mkwasine admin officers.
At Scott block on Mkwasine Estate
At Kwida village Mkwasine Estate
At Rumera village Mkwasine Estate.
At Benzi Village Mkasine Estate.
At Ngambi village
Three at Ruwari ranch
Old Chiredzi bridge 5km southeast of Chiredzi.
At Fair Range ranch 12km east of Chiredzi
Two at Humani Ranch
Two at Samba Ranch 25km to the North of Chiredzi

These camps have about 30 to 50 real militia youths running them, but increase their numbers by forcing surrounding villagers to join them bringing their numbers up to about 300. This figure changes because many villagers desert during the night and move away into the towns. I have interviewed many of these people who have escaped and they say that demonstrations are held where people are selected and beaten in front of the gathering, most people are against these militia, but are to frightened to resist. At 1.15pm today a crowd of militia gathered at Chitsanga Hall in Tshovani township Chiredzi and captured several people who were perceived to be MDC, they were beaten severely and released. The Chiredzi police were called, but did not arrive until the crowd had dispersed, no arrests were made. I am told that most of the so called militia were people forced there and were very unhappy with what they saw and are now asking the MDC youth to retaliate, saying that they the residents will join them to rid themselves of this scourge. The overall situation is dire here and could explode any day now.

l don’t know about the developments happening in the rural areas where people are being told to make sure they are illiterate on the 27th so that someone will vote for them to be sure that they don’t express their will. To be more specific chiweshe and uzumba where we have relatives who cant come to town because roads will be close from the 25th so that no one comes in or goes out before the voting. l don’t know if any organisation or observers would check on those issues coz its a cause for concern pliz!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some food for thought given the current abductions, torture and murders:

First they came for the Ndebeles and Shonas of the Midlands and Matabeleland and I didn’t speak out because l wasn’t an Ndebele and l didn’t live in Matebeleland.

Then they came for the white farmer owners and their black farm workers I didn’t speak out, because I was neither a white farm owner nor a farm worker.

When they came for the poor urban, so-called slum dwellers, I didn’t speak out, because I was not a slum dweller.

When they came for trade unionists and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist.

Then they came for MDC activists, and I didn’t speak out because I was not an MDC activist.

Then they came for the Anglicans and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t an Anglican.

Then they came for the human rights defenders and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a human rights defender.

Then they came for me and by then there was no one left to speak out for me.

Credit to Pastor Martin Niemöller (I892-I984), the German anti-Nazi activist.

This is as morbid as it gets. Bellicose men known for their viciousness on the receiving end of hate vigilantes? You must be joking! This is not a moment of misplaced glee, but someone could not help but wonder whether the reports were true. A sad twist of irony perchance? That particular death – the newsmen from another planet prefer to call it murder – becomes national news because of the political hue of the fallen comrade. The other fella next door is only killed by “unknown people” when everybody else seems to know the face of that hand that rocked the cradle and took a life. Is that what we have become, a nation whose collective conscience has been overthrown by this diabolic callousness and where nonsense is celebrated as sense? A nation that regrets one death and celebrates another? Is that what we have allowed other mortal men to turn us into? Other beloved nations have cried, but ours seems to be on the indefatigable attempt to be the stentorian equivalent of the town criers of yore. But it is the screams of latter day fallen heroes that will ring in the ears of evildoers, driving them insane down to their dark places of repose. “Repose” because perhaps they will make peace with their Maker when that light visible only to people staring that inevitable crossover shines in front of them. And then with clear consciences, the remaining souls tormented by the Devil they knew get that morbid satisfaction. “Vengeance is mine said the Lord.”

My impatience hijacked me today. Waiting outside the bank, waiting for a friend, an old man came up to me trying to sell some ballpoint pens. When I say no, he starts on about his poor son with a head the size of a pumpkin. His son needs help. Two years ago it was his daughter with a pumpkin head. Small details. But I snapped and told him I wasn’t interested in his stories. I’m irritated by the mess of this place; by walking past a massive hole in a pavement in a shopping centre. A hole that could swallow a granny. A hole that everyone now uses as a rubbish pit. But we continue, all of us to walk around it. Why don’t we fix it even if we didn’t break it? What are we waiting for?

I’ve heard a range of comments about the Harare International Festival of the Arts (HIFA) opening show Dreamland. Some feel, particularly as the opening show, it should have been more upbeat. Others feel it was important to not hide the realities of Zimbabwe. I had a hard time formulating an opinion because I was in awe the show happened. Everything and every minute of the show were overtly critical of the government.

The one thing that has stayed in my mind is the performance of Dudu Manhenga. She’s a wonderfully talented singer/performer, no doubt about it. But in this case, more what’s been on my mind is song selection. Dudu performed one of my favorite songs – a relatively unknown song from 1988 by American singer/songwriter Toni Childs. If my math is right, I was 23 years old in 1988 – young and naïve. I remember the song as one of the many things which opened my eyes and mind to the world around me. Generally, my interest in music is to know what lyrics mean, the message of the song, and to develop my own interpretations of the words. The lyrics of Toni Childs prompted me in 1988 to research more about the Zimbabwean Unity Accord of 1987 and the violence during the years before. I may have been wrong in thinking the 1988 song was commenting on Gukurahundi. But I can’t help but think at HIFA 2008 the song was selected as a commentary on the ways history unfortunately repeats itself – not always in exactly the same ways – but with the same painful and unjust results.

I found another blogger thinking about this 1988 song and the lyrics are below.

what you gonna do zimbabwae
what you gonna do zimbabwae

zimbabwae is a man who tried
to teach his children what was right
but then there came a time when war
split the family from inside
he said no fighting no more

what you gonna do zimbabwae
what you gonna do zimbabwae

the old man sits and shakes his head
while the multitudes insist
where is the cause of unity
with just one thought there could be peace
men gathered in silence the same

can there be some peace on earth
can there be a love
greater than the world we see
greater than us all
it’s the last station home
it’s the last station home

you ran your heart in those days
when no-one could see days
you want to run in the wind
you want to go back inside
see no more crime in your lifetime
zimbabwae, zimbabwae
no more crime in your lifetime
zimbabwae, zimbabwae

– Toni Childs