This morning I attended a seminar organised by a local business specialising in accounting software. The NGO oriented audience was hoping for tools that would make accounting in multiple currencies in a hyper-inflationary environment easier. The fact that the Zimbabwe dollar loses value every couple of hours means that we’re looking for specialised solutions!

Under normal circumstances it makes sense for software companies to offer variations of their software to cater for the differing needs of small, medium and large organisations. But as the presentation proceeded it became clear that everyone in the audience needed the flexible, “advanced” features normally packaged and priced for large organisations. The hefty price tag meant that for many of the smaller organisations it would be back to the office to their spreadsheets and individual ingenuity.

At the tea break I observed another telling reality. In the past we’ve normally queued to fetch a cup of tea or coffee then gone on to add a biscuit or slice of cake to our saucer. This morning most people headed straight for the food – then lined up patiently to wash it down with something hot later.

Most of the time when I leave my house I’m running, cycling or driving. But I’ve found myself needing to slow down a bit and reflect more lately, so I’ve taken to walking. It’s my favourite time of year here in Harare, summer in all its splendour, and the rains haven’t yet begun. The jacarandas have lost the air of surprise of their first flush, but they are still stunning. There’s a ridge I see when I turn a certain corner and the yellow acacia blossoms, purple jacaranda and green of leaves in between makes me catch my breath every time. The dusty earth is carpeted in yellow, purple and mauve blossoms, and the jacaranda buds pop underfoot.

Walking isn’t without its challenges, of course. Like the man who greeted me on my way home last night: “Hello girl.” I roll my eyes. He pauses. Looks twice. “Are you a girl or? . . .” and trails off laughing to himself. As I continue down the road I overhear him asking the next people he meets – do you think she’s a girl? Is that a girl? I’m not exactly flat-chested or slim-hipped. And I figured the stripey turquoise and cream vest would be a dead giveaway. But clearly not.

I left the office yesterday to go hunting and gathering for some sustenance for myself and a workmate. I bumped into a friend who told me she was working on a proposal to help children process their lives better and to help them develop coping mechanisms to deal with all the emotional and psychological trauma growing up in this place is inflicting on them. She says over half the youth in Zimbabwe are at risk of mental illness. An estimated 40% of the adult population are also suffering from poor mental health.

This doesn’t surprise me.

Take just one example: My best friend mentions she’d quite like to eat some lamb. So I send a text message to a friend of mine who (amazingly enough) is still managing to farm out in Mutare. In addition to some crops, she also runs some sheep. Two days later, I get her reply. She says she’ll sort out my friend’s meat, but it will take a while – they’re lambing now and of course the fluffy little guys have to grow up a bit before they can hit the chopping block. So I say no worries, I’ll tell my mate to be patient, and please can I come see the lambs, they sound too cute. She texts me back straight away:

30 lambs as of yesterday. Gorgeous! You welcome any time. Might have to move whole flock to your garden. Eviction notice yesterday for 4th December.

Of course she’s known this could come at any time. She’s been threatened and violated and harassed in the past, and found a way to reorganise the farm and keep going, at least for some time. She felt a duty to her workers, having seen how farm workers were mistreated on other places that have been taken over. But, like the reorganisation of Foreign Currency Accounts which gives government control over NGO’s and exporters FCA’s, it feels like command, control and subjugate not because you have some bigger plan that will benefit more people or improve the lives of ordinary Zimbabweans, but just because you can.

The gardener where I stay came to me the other day to tell me his son had died – 19 months old, he lived some 250 kilometres away in rural Shurugwi with his grandmother. His father and mother both live and work in Harare. The baby got sick, and the only clinic close enough for them to take him to couldn’t do anything for him. Two days later he died. They postponed the funeral for six days while they waited for the boy’s parents to get transport to the village. When I expressed my shock and sympathies, he shrugged – ndiMwari anotonga, he told me – It’s God who’s in control.

It’s reminiscent of the sentiment I’ve often heard when I’ve asked people what they think will happen here. Zvichanaka they say, things will get better. How? God is in control. When? Some time. Meanwhile, zvakadhakawa. As Alex Magaisa put it, with the price controls and shortages, shifting goal posts and every changing government policies, “that everything appears to be in a state of inebriation aptly captures the uncertainty and lack of direction in desperately uncertain and economically turbulent times.”

Zvakadhakwa – Zvichanaka. Is it any wonder we’re all getting a bit frayed around the edges?

One of my favourite web sites is http://www.poetryinternationalweb.org – check out the Zimbabwe section where you’ll find some really beautiful poetry. I note that their poem of the week, The Lord Is My Shepherd, is by Cosmas Mairosi, a budding Zimbabwean poet.

THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD

the lord is my shepherd
I shall not want any other leader besides him
(even from his own party)
I shall have no other political party besides his
I shall not suffer any domination by the British
or the Americans
and my country shall never be a colony again

the lord is my shepherd
even if I walk in the valley of freedom
I am forced to attend his rallies
I shall not say what
I want because the police and the military will descend
on me

even if I walk in the shadow of poverty
I shall continually shout his
name and sing his praises
“long live my leader”

the lord is my shepherd
I shall not associate with members of the opposition
I shall not walk with demonstrators
for should I be found out
I shall be beaten or tortured

I shall have no other TV stations besides his
I shall see what he wants me to see
I shall hear what he wants me to hear
I shall read what he wants me to read

the lord is indeed my shepherd
I shall not starve
for I shall certainly be given food handouts
to vote for him
and other people’s land for free
squatting

but now the lord is not my shepherd
I have suffered many setbacks
my business operations have been closed my bank accounts frozen
my house has been demolished
my land has been confiscated
and unto me a new law hath been given:
“thou shalt praise the lordship in all his follies”.

In some ways things are looking up.

When I came to work the other day I saw two Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) vehicles in the car park. The vehicles were clearly sign written with the MDC name and slogan. This is progress because I can’t ever recall MDC vehicles being so identifiable. Perhaps their supporters will also be able to wear pro-opposition t-shirts without getting beaten up. When we talk (and talk and talk) about free and fair elections and an environment conducive to campaigning then we have to take into account whether Zimbabweans live in an atmosphere where they can wear pro-MDC t-shirts. A small point one might think, but the devil is in the detail.

On my way to the vet yesterday I drove past a stand of pine trees which look like they’re being illegally felled. Clearly in this instance its not the struggling person on the street who needs fuel for cooking, its the chefs who are intent on pillaging every corner of this country for short term personal gain. Of course one of the major frustrations in Zimbabwe is how to get recourse to the law and have this and other types of illegal activity addressed. I’ve written to the Combined Harare Residents Association (CHRA) but it seems that they can only send out emails and that they don’t know how to answer them. I’ve telephoned Environment Africa and they seem impotent. I’ve written to a number of Zimbabwean media houses and journalists requesting them to do a little bit of investigative reporting, but I’ve had no response. The environment is not a side issue and should be treated with more respect by the general public, civil society organisations and the ruling party. A friend in the office suggested putting plastic bags over the chef tree fellers heads to illustrate to them how much we need trees.

Once I got to the vet I forked out Z$18 million for medication. I’m still recovering. I did however have a light hearted moment when a woman in the waiting room started talking about a 2007 calendar published to raise funds for a group called SOAP (Support Old Age Pensioners). The calendar has 12 pictures of guys with their shirts off. She flicked it open to September and looked directly at me and said “isn’t he hunky?”. I almost said well I’d prefer to be looking at women but stopped short not wanting her to fall flat on her face. I had enough money left over to buy two cow hooves for my dogs. They’re very cheap – Z$10 000/each and the dogs have endless pleasure nibbling at them for hours on end – the only negative side effect is foul hoof breath.

The beer flowed fast and furious at last weekend’s Chibuku Road to Fame Finals at Glamis Arena in Harare last weekend. The Road to Fame music contest features groups from the country’s ten provinces. This spectator is enjoying his Chibuku – an opaque beer served in containers reminiscent of scud missiles.

To use this image contact Taurai Maduna on khulumani [at] gmail [dot] com

Across Zimbabwe, Women of Zimbabwe Arise (WOZA), is known for its courage and determination. It is one of the few organisations which is regularly in the streets, protesting against government policies and demanding that its concerns be heard.

Since 2003, WOZA has been conducting non-violent actions across the country as women (and more recently men) join together to fight for their rights. They have held sit-ins at Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA) offices to demand power to the people. To raise funds and protest the NGO Bill in 2004, they walked 440 kilometres from Bulawayo to Harare, facing blisters, hunger, dehydration and arrest along the way. They have held demonstrations in Bulawayo, Harare, Mutare, Masvingo, Lupane, Gweru, Filabusi and more. Their Valentine’s Day actions, to show that the power of love can overcome the love of power, have become annual events across the country.

Their bravery inspires Zimbabweans. But a recent report highlights the price WOZA women pay for defending their freedoms, and those of the nation. The report takes a random sample of just 15% of the 2,200 WOZA members interviewed earlier this year about their activities and human rights violations they have experienced. The survey data from the larger sample is still being processed, but the preliminary report provides a powerful reminder that freedom certainly comes at a price.

WOZA member are at risk not only during their demonstrations, but are also victimised by the police for their participation and are isolated for later mistreatment. According to the document:

As this report was being finalised six women and a one and a half year old child were abducted by Law and Order police officers from their homes in Bulawayo during the early hours of the morning. They were taken to a mountain overlooking a river and told to tell the ‘truth’ about the whereabouts of their leaders (Jenni Williams and Magodonga Mahlangu). They were shown ropes and rocks and told they would be thrown into Khami Dam if they did not divulge information required by police officers. It was only the casual appearance of tourists, presumed to be journalists, which alarmed the officers who decided to return them to their homes, threatening that if they exposed their ordeal they would be killed.

Another recent incident was the arrest of 19 members, both male and female, from a sports stadium in Masvingo where they were playing netball and soccer. They spent 48 hours in custody and then had to ‘buy’ their freedom by paying admission of guilt fines. Another two members who went to the police station to bring them food were arrested and spent 48 hours in custody before having to also ‘buy’ their freedom.

The survey reports that 73% of WOZA members have been arrested at least once. Some members have been arrested over 25 times. Over half have been detained longer that Zimbabwe’s statutory limit of 48 hours without being brought to court. 40% of the sample have suffered physical assault, most generally at the hands of the police who arrested them, and 26% needed medical treatment for their injuries.

Despite this mistreatment WOZA marches on. Their humour, action, song, fliers, banners and creativity feed a spring of hope that may one day flood the nation.