I’ve been watching the unfolding events in Iran with quite some envy. The protests following what is regarded as a stolen election are impressive, more so because they’re taking place in Iran which is consistently described as repressive. Footage being shown on major news channels show what riot police are like the world over – vicious and uncompromising. Yet, 6 days on, protesters are still going out onto the streets making their displeasure known and felt, and forcing the Iranian authorities to display their repression in all its ugliness. Really, we Zimbabweans have no excuse for our apathy and our victim mentality. The lament that we’d be shot or beaten if we protested over our (many) stolen elections has become a pitying whine. People have been and are protesting repression all over the world yet we cower in our littler corner of the world. If we’d behaved differently; if we had taken the courage that sustains us in our homes whilst we “make a plan” quietly suffering the dictatorship of Robert Mugabe, and used that courage to spill out onto the streets in the vast numbers that despise the small dictator then we’d be experiencing something quite different from this odious, half baked political arrangement that we currently have. As John Githongo, the Kenyan corruption buster recently said . . .

Africans are the most subservient people on earth when faced with force, intimidation, power. Africa, all said and done, is a place where we grovel before leaders.

On Monday, the front page story on the state controlled Zimbabwe Herald newspaper announced: National healing begins. The article quoted from Vice President Joyce Mujuru’s address at a (belated!) International Women’s Day event in Bindura. Apparently, Mujuru said that a national healing taskforce, set up by the government, “is going to ensure that all our grievances are addressed to the satisfaction of the involved parties. The national healing programme is coming down to the grassroots and will leave no stone unturned in handling every grievance.”

Something about this statement left me uneasy. Maybe it is the top down approach that government seems to be taking regarding “national healing.” I do think some kind of national reconciliation process might be an important part of resolving some of Zimbabwe’s national scars. But for this process to be truly meaningful and effective, I think ordinary Zimbabweans need first to be involved in agreeing on what this process should look like. What are the objectives? Will there be prosecution or just discussion? Is there some kind of process for restorative measure, or is it just a space to air testimonials? How will those who testify be protected from future retaliation?

Also worrying about Mujuru’s remarks at Bindura was the dismissive way in which she spoke about violence on the ground. “Do not waste time fighting each other,” she told the crowd. “We, your leaders, would be drinking coffee together. President Mugabe mooted the idea of the inclusive Government after realising the enemy was infiltrating us and taking advantage of our political differences. Come and see us at Parliament, we will be drinking and eating together across the political divide.”

This wilful rewriting of history – and the deliberate distancing of top political leaders from violence carried out on their behalf by those much farther down the political tree – is deeply worrying. How genuine can a proposed government healing process be if political leaders are not willing to take responsibility for their role in encouraging violence?

A recent Institute for Security Studies article by Max du Plessis and Joloyn Ford outlines and articulate several reasons both for and against a truth and reconciliation process for Zimbabwe. One reason against a Zimbabwean TRC is that “social forgetting” is a valid strategy for processing grievances. In Sierra Leone, for example, the ordinary citizenry, “who were tired, afraid and too well acquainted with ‘the truth’ of the violence,” preferred to “forgive and forget.” Other reasons not to engage in an organised national healing process include a desire to leave the past behind, potential of the process to be a source of conflict, that it would be a waste of scarce and precious resources, and that there is a cynicism associated with reconciliation that is seen as to strictly political.

However, the authors write, “most experience in other societies points the other way, especially when there are concerns about who gets to decide what is ‘forgotten.’ The passive response to Rhodesian-era abuses has left many legacies sill affecting Zimbabwe today, including a culture of impunity. Other reasons for a TRC include the symbolic closure of a violent chapter of Zimbabwe’s history, creating a forum for forgiveness, and a desire to channel tensions into more constructive outlets.

Importantly the paper asks: “Where will Zimbabewans place themselves in relation to politics and principles of justice in the current interim phase – and who gets to decide for Zimbabweans on these issues?”

Worryingly, in light of documented reports of ongoing political violence in Domboshawa, Chilimanzi, Cahsel, Marondera, Masvingo, Mberengwa, Mudzi, Mutoko, Muzarabani, Odzi and Shamva, it may be too soon to think about a TRC for Zimbabwe’s poltical violence since 2000. In the past two months, 27 farms have been invaded, displacing 3310 farm workers and their families. While violence continues, an arbitrary “end” date, like the swearing in of the interim government, might leave many important current cases unresolved. Surely it is too soon to begin a TRC whilst violence is still occurring? What about fears of retaliatory attacks against those who testify, if peace has not yet been achieved on the ground?

Zimbabweans deserve the respect of substance, not patronising political posturing. We need a real end to the violence, actual peace, and genuine healing.

On Friday the Tree of Life team sat with parents from Epworth and Whitecliffe communities and heard about their fears  for their children.

This time last year
when the youth militia rampaged through their neighbourhoods in ‘preparation’ for the elections
the children went through the most terrifying ordeals one can imagine.
They were taken to the militia bases,
they watched their mothers being raped,
their fathers beaten and tortured
and they were beaten and raped themselves
they watched their houses being burned down
and their parents killed

the fabric of their lives destroyed

and a year later they still live in the ashes
with old memories haunting their dreams

Nothing has been done for the children

‘They visited hell’ said one mother who had her 8 year old son taken for 3 months
‘and they still live in fear – for it has not gone away
they are still training the militia for the next elections’

And then we began speaking of the healing
and of Chiyedza offering her skills in drama and counselling
to go out to the communities to help teach new ways of working
We heard people offer their small houses as venues
and their time to learn techniques of counselling
These people who have been stripped of their livelihoods
volunteering to help protect the orphans
and repair the damage
what little they had – they were prepared to share.

‘For these children are the parents of the new generations’ they said

Utterly shaken we came out of the meeting
to the news that the years funding we had asked for
had been reduced to a bridging loan for 3 months

Throughout civic society
those groups who, on meagre budgets, have helped with the healing
and with gathering the orphans
the groups that help hold the dignity of the nation
are struggling to survive

“there is no money for Zimbabwe (global economic crisis/ unstable government/uncertainty/hold up in funding/etc.) sorry for that”

so we have to wait
wait for the children
a year
a lifetime

It is mid-winter
the leaves are falling
the grass is dry
beige-gold world  lit by the first crimson lucky bean trees
and filled with butterflies

I’ve been dipping in and out of the news around South Africa’s election, particularly around the curious ways gender and sexuality seem to have played out there.

Both the number of First Ladies to now be catered for, and the number of men in Helen Zille’s cabinet seem to be at issue. And somewhere at the core seems to be the ANC Youth League, shaking their fists and making their statements.

On the one hand, Jonny Steinberg reckons that Zuma is seen as “more of a man” by many young black South Africans, because he has more wives.

On the other hand, Marianne Thamm reckons that the real problem is that men’s and women’s experiences of sex, and particularly their understanding of what constitutes “good sex,” are so fundamentally different, it’s no wonder it’s hard for the one side to understand the other.

Meanwhile, we have Helen Zille explaining that she just didn’t have many women to choose from when it came to selecting her cabinet – and the DA is opposed to quotas.

In all of these various arguments and explanations, however, one thing is clear – it’s the arguments that make sense – the ones in which the author tries to Explain things – are the ones that are the most helpful.

Take, for example, a recent discussion with Radio 702 talk show host Redi Direko interviewing ANC Youth League Spokesperson Floyd Shivambu.

Direko asks Shivambu to explain what, exactly, the ANC Youth League meant by saying that Helen Zille appointed boyfriends and concubines to her cabinet. When asked to clarify, Shivambu says “There’s no other explanation you can give except to say that the reality and the truth; that these are her boyfriends that she continues to sleep around with and we stand by that particular statement.”

But what do you mean, “sleeping around,” Direko asks. “Is she having sex with them?”

Shivambu responds:

Sleeping around means sleeping around. There’s no other explanation that we can give except that she is sleeping around. Unfortunately, you can ask me a million times. We’re not going to change that explanation. We mean what we say and we say what we mean. Exactly that.

And it gets better . . . Read a transcript of the interview here. And the saga continues – you can also read Shivambu’s response to the interview on his own blog here.

Recently I was at a function in London when, upon introducing myself as a Zimbabwean, someone ventured to ask me a question I have become very much accustomed to now, ‘so, what has changed with this new government?’ In response I explained that as far as I was concerned, there had been no fundamental change in political direction and that the levers of power remain firmly in the hands of those who wielded power in 1980 and as such, we are not really in a new political dispensation as yet. The person who asked the question was clearly unimpressed, he pointed out that in fact he had information that ‘a lot of positive changes’ had taken place in Zimbabwe and cited the so-called miracle reduction of inflation from 231 million percent to just 1.1 percent as an example some of the positive changes that are not being highlighted. He then noted that Zimbabweans in the Diaspora and international media have a tendency of reporting only negative news on Zimbabwe because, he quipped, ‘good news does not sell.’ It appears this is a generally held view among some international observers which I wish to address in greater detail here.

Well, I do not see how my grandmother in Bikita would take comfort in the miraculous reduction in inflation because she still does not have access to foreign currency. The switch-over to use of foreign currency which cured inflation in one stroke may be significant to political elites but certainly makes little difference to ordinary men and women in Zimbabwe who continue to suffer. It is like focusing on improving working conditions for those who are employed when 94 percent of Zimbabweans are unemployed!

Personally, and I am confident many other Zimbabweans share this view, I desperately desire to hold great hope and optimism that Zimbabwe’s future is bright and that political change has come. I want to be able to proudly tell the world that Zimbabwe is open and ready for business. I want to tell anyone who cares to listen that my country is a beacon of democracy and persuade investors to rush to Zimbabwe and do business with my countrymen. It is my wish that l should tell the world that violence, human rights abuses, police brutality and repression belong to the past. Unfortunately, sadly, that would be untrue; I would be telling blatant lies if I were to lay claim to such things. Creating false hope and false images of change does not bring the desired change to Zimbabwe.

It appears to be that the desire to be ‘positive’ about Zimbabwe and project a positive image of Zimbabwe may have led some of our erstwhile colleagues who now occupy high political offices to massage the truth and polish the rough edges of reality in their presentation of the situation in Zimbabwe. All of a sudden, themselves victims a compromised and corrupt court system, because they are now part of government, they believe there is rule of law and that their colleagues who face various politically motivated charges must face trial by ‘impartial courts.’ One minister from the smaller MDC faction, when asked why farm violent farm invasions were continuing unabated responded, ‘government is broke, we do not have financial resources to deploy police to stop the invasions.’ Was this not precisely the same political excuse given by the police in 2000 when farm invasions began?

Clearly, but for reasons as yet unclear to me, many former advocates of rule of law and democracy who are now in government have become shameless liars quite ready and comfortable to sing from the same hymn book with those who once persecuted them.

Being frank and truthful about the minute changes that have taken place in Zimbabwe does not make one a pessimist. My great hope and optimism for Zimbabwe lies in the hope that there are many who will realize that the struggle for democracy and good governance does not end when one gets a seat at the high table; that is precisely when the struggle begins. Only the truth will set our leaders free, and, in the same vein, set us all free.

I recently discovered that I needed about US$400 to have my name changed to MGCINI NYONI, the name my father gave me. My father disappeared in the early eighties during the Gukurahundi madness. I was only about three or so. Along with thousands other Ndebele people he was hunted down by the notorious Korean trained fifth brigade. He was not a dissident like other thousands of people lying in mass graves somewhere. In some cases bellies of pregnant women were slit open by sadistic soldiers. Armored vehicles ran over the hands of school teachers as they lay on the ground. Entire villages were shot and killed, their homesteads burnt down because they did not know were the dissidents were. After the disappearance of my father, mother remarried and we assumed the surname of our stepfather. I know she meant well, may her soul rest in peace (we buried her mid last year). Thanks to Mugabe, I’m now an orphan. My family will have to go hungry for several months for me to be able to afford changing my name. Shouldn’t Mugabe pay for it and compensate me for the disadvantages I grew up with because I did not have a father who had been killed by forces sent by Mugabe to do some ethnic cleansing. His crime was belonging to the Ndebele tribe.