I’ve been thinking a lot lately about disillusionment. About the value of careful, thoughtful assessment of a situation, and the dangers of both a too hardened cynicism, and a too softly idealistic heart. As a former MDC activist and staff member, I’ve become increasingly wary of many of the activities and decisions the party has undertaken. There is a part of me that is angry about that – an emotional part of me that feels betrayed, duped, my idealism taken advantage of. But I recognise that while passionate, whole hearted idealism has its attraction, perhaps a better contribution to Zimbabwe’s future is to be more constructively critical, thoughtfully pragmatic, and honestly questioning.

Recent actions by the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), including the revamping of the National Women’s Executive, and reports of violence outside the MDC headquarters on the weekend have added to my wariness.

But there is a tension in the pro-democracy movement around expressing one’s dissatisfaction with the MDC. It’s seen as disloyal, or unhelpful. There is a general belief that “anything but Zanu PF” will do, and in the past, being too critical of the MDC was in some circles an unpopular position.

I’ve been pleased to see that shifting, not because I harbour a grudge against the MDC. Rather, it’s because I know that, in my own life, it’s when others are demanding of me, or challenge me to do better, that I pull up my socks a bit. I suspect organisations and political leaders behave similarly. Why should we settle for less? It is when we expect more from them that they excel.

Comments on the Zim Fight On discussion list today gave me a glimmer of hope. Quoting a New Zimbabwe article, Briggs Bomba pointed out some recent quotations by National Constitutional Assembly Chairperson Lovemore Madhuku in which he was critical of MDC President Morgan Tsvangirai, and sceptical of his capacity to govern Zimbabwe.

As Briggs points out,

The most important point I think is that if more people were to become as courageous as Madhuku has just done then the future of Zimbabwe’s democratic struggle can be saved. Otherwise if people keep playing it safe, afraid to express opinions they hold, we are going to be stuck with a sterile, slowly disintegrating and totally paralysing opposition force, closing off space to genuine new progressive initiatives yet completely incapable of championing the democratic struggle.

Comments on American immigration policies by Melissa Goodman in the Mail & Guardian this week made me think of the MDC. A small substitution of Goodman’s words is some useful advice for us here: “What the MDC needs most is to be engaged with others and open to criticism, not isolated from it.”

At its root, the word “conversation” means turning together; it’s a two-way process. The MDC must be open to criticism, and must welcome it with the spirit in which it is intended. To view it as thoughtful concern from people with a vision of the new Zimbabwe we could have if things were done differently. At the same time the rest of us must be committed to voicing our concerns without worrying about what others will think of us, or that our opinions might be unwelcome or unpopular. Not voicing our concerns will make us complicit in settling for less.

I’m sitting in my parked car waiting for my friend at the dentist on the fringes of Harare’s City Centre. The tinted window of a dark blue car comes down as it approaches a group of men standing on the side of the road. “Pounds,” the driver says. The would-be seller on the street holds up two fingers and bends down to speak into the open window, calling “Two million, two million” as the car slowly drives past.

Money is big business here. No sooner had I dropped my friend and parked in some shade than someone was at my window offering to exchange any US dollars I might have for Zimbabwe dollars. When, indignant, I told him I live in Zimbabwe, I earn Zimbabwe dollars, why would I have US dollars, he said with a smile – “That’s okay. I can also buy your Zim dollars and give you US.”

When the third trader approaches my window, I say: “Okay, tell me your rates.” A million to one for the US. Two million to the Pound. But thinking of the parallel market rate I’d seen on the SW Radio Africa website, I say – “that seems a bit low, I can get 3 million to the Pound elsewhere.” He calls my bluff and asks me where I trade, claiming that he wants to know so that he can change some of his money at that better rate as well.

Women are present in this space, they occupy it, they wander in and out of it, but it’s the men who fill it. They drape themselves on the hood of a bakkie, or lean against the back of a car. They call out to one another across the street, making their deals boldly. When a car slows down they run after it in a pack, each hoping to be the one chosen for the deal. I think of the volume of trade, and how vulnerable one would be to cheating. If one Pound is two million Zimbabwe Dollars, it would be easy to shortchange a customer by a couple of hundred thousand here or there. And really, who is going to sit on the street counting off their millions?

During the hour that I wait I get offered freezits, peaches, brooms, baskets, sweets, cigarettes, and maputi. But none of the these vendors are as persistent as the foreign currency dealers.

Harare’s many non-functioning traffic robots provide frequent opportunities for contemplating human nature. As a friend of mine was saying the other day as we tried to turn right at a busy, robot-down, intersection, why do so many of us move with a sense of rushed-ness and our own importance that somehow gets in the way of our own decency.

Of course, it’s never as simple as that. Through all the murk a few moments always stand out. The girl walking home from school who runs alongside me for a bit of a chat. The cyclist who smiles an apology when his bell gives me such a fright I jump clear into the bushes.

But some days those gems feel more the exception than the rule. Watching the traffic at another intersection on my run the other night, I thought to myself, “it’s survival of the biggest.” The pushiest, largest, flashiest 4x4s muscle their way into the intersection however they so choose. And the rest of the traffic just has to comply.

It reminded me of what someone had been telling me earlier that day. She works as a nurse and does the rounds of Harare’s government hospitals. Zimbabwe’s health sector has drastically deteriorated in recent years, and it is not uncommon for clinics and hospitals to lack even the most basic of medications and supplies.

According to this nurse, however, this isn’t because the hospitals lack the foreign currency to import these items, or because of a lack of donations from well-intentioned foreigners. Zimbabwe’s government hospital doctors are severely underpaid. Many also maintain a private practise where they can see patients separately from the hospital, and charge more for these visits. The nurse I met claims that these doctors take the supplies from the hospital shelves and sell them to the patients they see in their own practise.

It’s a serious allegation which needs to be further substantiated. The hospitals’ empty shelves may well be a combination of fewer goods in the first place, since the hospitals can’t afford the foreign currency to import what they have to. And those doctors who can get away with it might well be skimming off medications to resell and top up their meager income. If that it is the case, it’s the traffic robot scenario all over again – if you’re wealthy enough to afford private health care, chances are you’re wealthy enough to pay for marked up medication as well. And if you’re not? You’re left to sit in the car park outside the hospital untreated. The chefs get smugger. But what’s the outcome for the rest of the population?

The Solidarity Peace Trust recently released a new DVD. Hero to zero: A brief history of the Zimbabwe dollar, tells the story of the nosedive of our precious Zimbabwe Kwacha, from Independence in 1980 – when 1 Zimbabwe dollar would return you 2 US dollars, to today, when 1 billion (old) Zimbabwe dollars isn’t enough to exchange for 1 US dollar.

Get the DVD! We’ve already had a massive clamour in response to our SMS invitation to receive the DVD. But not to worry. We have some copies reserved for our loyal Kubatanablog readers. Be among the first 20 people to write to info [at] kubatana [dot] org [dot] zw to request this DVD, and we’ll post it to you. Please make sure to let us know that you’re writing in response to this blog, and include your postal address in your email. Regret – this offer is only available for addresses within Zimbabwe.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand the Zimbabwe dollar’s dismal trajectory, and economist Rob Davies, one of the main interview subjects in the video, charts it beautifully. Countries that really want to control inflation, he says, get concerned when money supply rises more than 5% in a year. In Zimbabwe money supply increased by 120% in May of this year alone. Granted, money supply is the immediate cause, but it’s not the sole culprit causing inflation – why does the government print so much money so rapidly? To protect the incomes of the people who support it.

Davies comments that the national cake has shrunk drastically. And when the cake shrinks, someone has to eat less. The politicians, he says, have used their influence over instruments of the state to make sure it’s not them or their supporters.
The DVD also touches on the rise of the informal sector – despite the government’s best attempts to choke it, through actions such as Operation Murambatsvina. As one school teacher points out, if you’re a teacher struggling to make ends meet, at what point do you decide if it’s more worth your while to sell airtime on the streets, knowing that as a vendor you can make eight times more than you can as a teacher.

Finally, Davies asks, why are Zimbabweans so patient with something that is messing up their lives? If this economic decline was happening elsewhere, would it not have sparked some kind of popular uprising or resistance? Davies describes Zimbabweans as tolerant, and says this tolerance is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it makes the country more open to difference, more relaxed and integrated than it might otherwise be. On the other hand, perhaps it means we’re stuck with these injustices longer than others might be.

So why aren’t people here organising into a more effective resistance movement? It’s a question well worth asking. But the answer, I suspect, lies in a range of factors including intimidation, repression, leadership, logistics and vision. Change is daunting for anyone. We are either pressured into it when we realise we have no other option, or when we’re presented with an alternative so compelling it motivates us into positive action.

As Davies points out, the people who are really suffering from inflation and the shortages aren’t going to be the leaders of change – they’re more concerned with day-to-day survival. Sadly, our political leaders haven’t been able to paint that vision of the new Zimbabwe in colours vibrant enough for people to believe in it and risk everything for it.

I had a look at the SW Radio Africa website, Spot the Difference, and I hardly knew where to begin.

In the picture of the shop in 1981, the shelves are stocked, the shoppers’ trolleys are full, the electricity is on inside the shop, and best of all, the prices? 28 cents.

Today? Barren shelves, empty trolleys, no power, and prices heading towards hundreds of thousands and millions of dollars, not fractions of them. When Reserve Bank Governor Gideon Gono delivered his Mid-Year Monetary Policy Review on October 1st he said, among other things:

It is against this background that I can say without fear of retraction or of being misquoted that it will not be very long before we see visible supply improvements on the ground. We should, by the end of this month [October], see the return of mazoe [orange syrup], soft drinks, cooking oil, soap, milk, bread, sugar and animal feeds on the shelves at affordable [cost to consumers], but economically viable prices to the suppliers.

With one week to go in the month, Gono’s promises of affordable, abundant commodities in our shops are looking increasingly unlikely. To be able to nip out to the shops and buy a packet of biscuits for 28 cents, I think I could stomach the polyester dresses and the over sized glasses. Now if only I had enough ZESA to recharge the battery in my time travel machine . . .

Eyes on Zimbabwe is a new feature on Zimbabwe on the Open Society Institute website. They are trying to raise awareness about the crisis in Zimbabwe in advance of Parliamentary, Presidential and local government elections to be held next year. The highlight of the site is “Zimbabwe: The Fight to Free a Country,” a video which apparently “combines footage from inside Mugabe’s police state with testimony from torture survivors, activists, and lawyers who have witnessed the regime’s repression first hand.” The site also features links to additional resources, and a petition and letter to the UN which you can fill in on line.

It sounds like an interesting video – and one which plenty of people here could benefit from watching. It seems like people living outside the country, with the benefits of TV and the internet, often have greater access to independent, accurate news on events in Zimbabwe than do the vast majority of people living here.

I’m lucky enough that the broadband connection at the office means I can see the Timeline (which I couldn’t view on my dial-up access at home), even if it’s a Flash Player page which on my browser remains stuck on 1980. But even with the high-speed connection at work I can’t watch the video. Instead, an error message appears: “This player requires a faster connection to enable smooth playback of video. The connection speed detected will cause a potentially unviewable experience.”

VOA also recently posted a video of activism in Zimbabwe. That one at least includes a dial up version which can be viewed from here, even if the image quality is so poor as to make it barely watchable. This page also links to other VOA videos on tourism, food shortages and hyperinflation.

I’m hoping some people out there in the developed world of high speed connections can view these materials and leave some comments that help people here know what they are all about.

These videos are just the latest contributions to a growing pool of information on Zimbabwe that is conceptualised and developed outside the country. The government’s Gukurahundi massacres in the 1980s which left over 20,000 dead, were well protected from the bulk of international news attention, and at the time went largely unnoticed. The age of Internet, digital photography and satellite connectivity means that the current economic collapse and political turmoil are captured, recorded, and beamed around the world. But ordinary Zimbabweans don’t have access to satellite television or high speed Internet connections, and they remain stuck with state radio, state television, and word of mouth.

I’m all for increasing international awareness in the hopes that it eventually increases international pressure which, in turn, eventually contributes to the change here. But where are the local actions from this global thinking? Is the Soros foundation burning thousands of DVDs of its film and distributing them in the high density areas of Zimbabwe’s cities, where DVD players have become surprisingly common place? Is Studio 7 VOA News making newspaper versions of its Shona and Ndebele broadcasts and distributing them among rural communities?

International attention matters. But it’s no substitute for local pressure. And critical to building that local activism is making a range of materials that inform, inspire, challenge and motivate Zimbabweans readily accessible to them. Let’s see more international support for these locally produced and locally disseminated information initiatives – rather than one more internet video that is potentially unviewable for Zimbabweans.