Listen to Raymond Majongwe, Secretary General of the Progressive Teachers Union of Zimbabwe (PTUZ) speak about teachers standing up for themselves.

Following a two week teacher sit-in and a one week strike in which an estimated 90% of teachers across Zimbabwe refused to go to work and demanded higher salaries, government has agreed to increase teachers’ wages to Z$14 million per month for the lowest paid teacher and up to Z$24 million for the highest paid.

This is a marked improvement over the paltry salaries teachers were previously earning but sees teachers still earning below the Poverty Datum Line. Taken at the widely used parallel market rate, the teacher’s wage increase translates to USD 28 a month for the lowest paid teacher – less than a dollar per day. And that is at today’s exchange rate. As inflation further erodes the Zimbabwe dollar, that wage will be worth even less in a week’s time, and next to nothing by the end of the year.

So what do the teachers do? Do they accept the offer on the table, or hold out for something better?

The wage increase currently being offered is a victory for the Progressive Teachers Union of Zimbabwe, which led the call for the strike. Even though the PTUZ claims a membership of around 13,000 of Zimbabwe’s 110,000 teachers, 90% of all teachers participated in the strike. At meetings of PTUZ structures in Harare, Mashonaland West, Manicaland, Masvingo, the Midlands and Bulawayo on Tuesday 9 October, all provinces except for Bulawayo were in favour of extending the strike until a new demand (Z$65 million per month basic salary plus transport and housing allowances) is agreed to. Again, at the parallel market rate, this would work out to less than USD 175 / month – not an exorbitant amount for a teacher to ask to be paid.

But compared to other industries in Zimbabwe, it sounds like a lot. Currently, doctors gross Z$6-10 million per month, and have also been on a go-slow of late to demand a wage increase. A deal was struck last week with the Apex Council, which negotiates on behalf of all civil servants. While details of this agreement haven’t been released, it looks like the 420% wage increase being offered to teachers is what doctors and other civil servants will also be given. If other civil servants accept this, but PTUZ members refuse to go back to work, they risk distancing themselves from their fellow civil servants at a time when they need to be working together. They might also lose public sympathy from parents and other Zimbabweans who are struggling to make ends meet and are themselves earning far less. If other teachers go back to school and PTUZ members remain on strike, these teachers might be isolated and lose their jobs.

The PTUZ leadership faces a difficult decision as national and provincial representatives meet in Harare today. But regardless of the outcome the fact that teachers are even willing to consider demanding more than they are being offered is an encouraging indicator of things to come.

An essay entitled Beyond Mandela by Onyekachi Wambu caught my eye today and it reminded me of a quote that we included in a recently published Kubatana electronic newsletter. Michelle Gavin, an international affairs fellow at the U.S.-based Council on Foreign Relations suggests that it is necessary to avoid the trap of embracing “an anyone-but-Mugabe approach while the system stays the same”. She recommended an emphasis on better governance – adherence to the rule of law, an end to political violence, and free and fair elections.

As we approach yet another election how are we, the citizens of Zimbabwe, investigating, analyzing, debating and reviewing what the political opposition stands for? If we don’t snap out of this “anyone but Mugabe” mode it is almost certain that we will, if a free and fair election takes place (very doubtful), be voting in a new government with the same corrupt and flawed systems in place.  As Onyekachi Wambu states in the context of South Africa, and the same applies to Zimbabwe, “we require a partnership between leader and led, where there is genuine two-way communication and accountability as we move to deliver on the promises of liberation – peace, safety, economic prosperity and dignity.”

Below is the full text of Wambu’s essay

Last weekend I drove through Parliament Square to catch my first glimpse of the Nelson Mandela statue. As I drew closer to the monument, which was smaller than I expected, I saw a black family sitting at the foot of the outstretched arms, having their picture taken. Mother, daughter, father – drawn to the square, to Nelson.

Two days later I was passing again, on a bus. The scene was repeated: another black family, in Mandela’s embrace, pride on their faces. Nelson, drawing black people into this public space, his healing magic melting away years of exclusion and bitterness, redefining the meaning of the square for us. In time, might we even begin to speak of Nelson’s Square?

There is a reason to cheer – but cheer what, exactly? What does his statue symbolise for the black families who will visit? Some, including the great man himself, have spoken about it representing freedom and liberation. But this is too simple in a way, neatly packaging a messy period, and one with consequences that have yet to unravel.

But in discussions about black leadership some of my friends and colleagues have over the years voiced great hostility to Mandela, believing he was lauded by the west because he sold out on the key issues of land and the economy – and nobody ended up in The Hague for crimes committed under apartheid. For them, the statue might then encapsulate this story of betrayal, from the idealised clarity of militant imprisonment to the later, post-prison compromise.

Even if one accepts the underlying sentiment of such an analysis regarding the deal struck, on a human level it overlooks any appreciation of the suffering endured by Mandela and the generation who spent decades in prison. His detractors seem to demand even more sacrifice – like their martyred heroes Steve Biko or Patrice Lumumba – rather than the gentle denouement of honourable retirement. The heavy burden of black leadership was suddenly immediate and sobering.

Looking at the range of post-independence African leaders, the common perception has been of corrupt and venal individuals, brutal dictators and tyrants, and sit-tight presidents for life – very few of whom have improved the lot of their people. Like all stereotypes, it captures an element of truth, but the reality is more complex. Later this month Mo Ibrahim, one of the continent’s richest men, after assessing the performance of the continent’s leaders in a sort of beauty contest, will offer the “winner” $5m – effectively a bribe to persuade them to do the right thing.

In this year of commemoration of the abolition of the slave trade, I hope the statue and Ibrahim’s award will enable us to open a dialogue about black leadership. After all, Mandela and his Robben Island colleagues evoke another great generation from an earlier period on San Domingo, in the Caribbean, who secured the first victory against slavery, constitutional racism and white dictatorship. Toussaint L’Ouverture, the great conciliator and leader of that group of liberators, had been imprisoned by Napoleon Bonaparte, who betrayed his own promises to L’Ouverture as well as the ideals of the French revolution. As the struggle for liberation continued, L’Ouverture was replaced by the uncompromising Jean-Jacques Dessalines, who massacred whites on the island on the way to establishing an independent and free state, Haiti.

Two hundred years later, Mandela would forgive white South Africa. We are now in the post-liberation phase, and the quest for development is now the measure of the leadership needed from Africans.

Ali Mazrui, one of the contributors to a book on African leadership I have edited, rightly points out that over this 200-year period, people of African descent have produced an extraordinary number of leaders of liberation and conciliation, but have been poor in producing effective leaders of development – something the Ibrahim “beauty” index should address. I don’t believe these leaders of development need be Moses figures.

We require a partnership between leader and led, where there is genuine two-way communication and accountability as we move to deliver on the promises of liberation – peace, safety, economic prosperity and dignity. In the end, finally looking up into those outstretched arms, I was glad the statue of Nelson was not that big, that it had human proportions. After all, it is in our hearts that men become mountains.

I’ve been reading a book entitled 28 Stories of AIDS in Africa compiled by Stephanie Nolen. The publicity for the book states

In 28, you’ll meet the doctor dodging bullets as she runs a makeshift clinic in war-torn Congo, hear why Nelson Mandela decided to go public about the cause of his son’s death, encounter the trucker who has spent a lifetime picking up prostitutes on the lonely highways of East Africa, and have an audience with the Botswanan beauty queen proud to be crowned ‘Miss HIV Stigma-free’. Stephanie Nolen’s eloquent and sympathetic book paints a fresh and inspiring portrait of Africa in crisis, making it impossible for us to ignore and impossible to forget.

Zimbabwean, Prisca Mhlolo shares her story in this remarkable book. You can read her account here and we encourage you to buy 28 Stories of AIDS in Africa online. Below is a short excerpt from Prisca’s story . . .

All the anger shock and pain of that moment were clear in Prisca’s face twenty later years later. “The way she said it was something else: AIDS! Where did the AIDS come from? I looked down at my daughter in my lap and she was not a child any more, she was something-she was now AIDS to me. I didn’t want anything to do with that child. I took her and threw her-she hit the corner of the desk and got a big cut. She collapsed. And I ran from that hospital into the street screaming. Doctors were coming and they wanted to get hold of me but they couldn’t because I was running. In Mazoe Street, just by the entrance, I collapsed. The next thing I knew, I woke up and it was two weeks later.”

When she awoke in a hospital bed with her husband standing next to her, she turned to him in anguish. “I said, ‘Bruce, we are dying, we are already dead.’ He said, ‘Why?’ I told him about Agnes. I told him, ‘Because of AIDS. ‘I’m a moving grave as you see me.’ That’s what I told him.

If there was a bit more food in the shops and a bit more hope for times ahead, I wouldn’t have been quite so surprised to learn that almost two-thirds of Zimbabweans surveyed across the country intend to vote for Zanu PF in next year’s election, as compared with 35% for the Morgan Tsvangirai MDC, and 2% for the Arthur Mutambara MDC.

This is the surprising revelation of The Zimbabwe electoral process and attendant issues: the voter’ views, the recent summary report of the Mass Public Opinion Institutes’s survey of voters across Zimbabwe.

The survey asked people a range of questions, including whether they thought voting was important, if they had registered to vote, and who they might vote for in next year’s elections.

Granted, it’s difficult to make any conclusive analysis from this survey finding. How does one assess opinion or predict trends when 83% of the population intends to vote in the election, but only 51% of them claim to have decided what party they might vote for.

This large percent of self-professed “undecideds” isn’t a new phenomenon in Zimbabwe. We’ve seen it often over the past seven years with voters claiming they are undecided or “don’t know.” Typically, the opposition interprets an undecided as someone who doesn’t trust the survey recorder, or is sympathetic to the opposition but fearful of the consequences of that, and so declines to reveal their opinion.

But it’s dangerous to assume that all 51% of those undecideds are going to vote for one of the two MDC formations. And if even some of those who say they haven’t yet made up their minds really don’t know, or are leaning towards voting for the ruling party, the MDC needs to rethink its confident assertion that it has the support of the people, and needs only a free and fair election to prove it.

Regardless of the science and speculation of polling, we need politicians who are willing to take risks, think creatively, roll up their sleeves and take on the challenge of genuinely leading people out of the mess we’re currently in. Statistics and numbers can tell one story. But we need to be spending more time with the meandering, intricate tales of what’s on people’s minds, what’s in our hearts, what we dream of for the future, and how we hope to get there.

Zimbabwe’s Central Statistical Office has pegged the current Poverty Datum Line at ZW$12 million a month for a family of five, as compared with ZW$11 million last month and ZW$8.2 million the month before.

Like most Zimbabweans, teachers have spent the better part of this year trying to have their wages keep up with inflation. Earlier this year, Raymond Majongwe, the Secretary General of the Progressive Teacher’s Union of Zimbabwe (PTUZ) was detained by the police for stating the simple truth that, at the time, a teacher’s salary was only enough to afford four and half bananas a day.

Last week, the teachers rejected the government’s offer of a 91% salary increase. The increase would have added ZW$2.6 million to the present basic wage of ZW$2.9 million, making a total of Z$5.5 million dollars. But PTUZ described the offer as “pathetic,” and is standing firm on its demand for a monthly minimum wage of ZW$15 million.

To achieve its demands, the union had been on a “sit down,” in which teachers were reporting to school each day, but sitting at their desks and not teaching. This week, the PTUZ changed tack. It is now urging its membership to stay away from work altogether. “Stay put or stay poor,” it advises, and is hoping that fellow teachers’ unions, the Zimbabwe Teachers’ Association and the Teachers’ Union of Zimbabwe, will join the action. As inflation spirals, the teachers’ demands have increased – they are now demanding a basic salary of ZW$18 million plus another ZW$14 million in housing and transport costs.

This would put teachers just barely above the Poverty Datum Line – for now, until it goes up again. It would certainly leave them far better off than those in the agricultural sector.

Recent increases in the agricultural sector wage mean that the highest paid agricultural worker’s wage is gazetted at ZW$2 million – up from Z$440,000. This still is not enough to buy yourself a loaf of bread (or a beer) a day – not that you could find either one, anyway.

The Week has picked up on a particularly mind-boggling take on all of this. In July, an official from Zimbabwe’s Finance Ministry was reported in the Cape Times to have dismissed Zimbabwe’s deepening food crisis, saying:

The unpatriotic hoarding of food gives the impression that we have a problem, which clearly we haven’t, except in the South African media’s mind. We do not call it starving, we call it fasting. Fasting is actually good for you. Lots of famous people have fasted for the benefit of their people. Gandhi, for instance. In our case, the people themselves will be encouraged to fast, thereby strengthening themselves against the onslaught of colonial imperialism. We have no objection in principle to people eating. Those of us in government all eat, but only because persons in our important positions have to. What we must guard against is the belief that people have the right to break the law if they are hungry.

All this, as a friend pointed out yesterday, in Independent Zimbabwe.

Right now the majority of Zimbos wouldn’t mind one bit being anywhere but here. By God, some people daily risk losing life or limb crossing crocodile infested rivers while others pay heavily with an arm, a leg and probably other parts of the anatomy too coarse to mention – as bribes to “officials” in a bid to process passports and visas. Recently I received an email from a friend who is studying in Leeds. I thought sharing it would remove blinkers from the eyes of a few. Did me . . .

Guys thought I could share this with you. Do you know that most Zimbos in the UK don’t want to be associated with their country? They are so ashamed of this thing ya Mugabe. Imagine, I met here a girl from Kariba and she was looking British, my instincts told me that she was a Zimbo and I asked her where she came from, she looked at me straight and then hesitantly said Zimbabwe thinking that I was from Russia or something. I told her I was also from Zim and she was shocked and then started to cool down. She told me she was afraid to say that she was Zimbo coz people would associate her with poverty and all sorts of horrible things. She has been in Leeds for 2 years and she said people had been asking her whether it’s true that Zimbos stay in trees and caves? And also whether people in Zim could afford 1 meal a day or they starve? They also asked her how she came to the UK. Then, as we were chatting I was telling her that I was home a few weeks back and that yes, things are bad but not as bad as they think here. This other Zimbo woman came to where we were chatting. She was walking with this Motswana guy I know and he was happy to introduce her to other Zimbos but she looked embarrassed and was blushing. We talked about problems at home and she said I am not going back and I don’t want to hear about Zim anymore. Yesterday, the University Chaplain paid me a visit at my flat and I was with this guy from Uganda. He said Zimbabwe was a terrible place and said if people don’t do something now, ‘You are all going to starve’. I cooked sadza for him and he enjoyed it though. This is just a tip of the iceberg, Zimbos are ashamed of their country coz we don’t have an image here. That is why most don’t want to come back. It’s a shame what Mugabe is doing to everyone. I have met a lot of people from different countries and none has a positive image about Zim except a few Indians who still think about Andy Flower and the world class cricket that used to be.  Only a Motswana and a Zambian girl have expressed something positive about Zim. My friend from France, a nice girl doing an Undergrad said, “Zim is horrible but you are nice.” At least that’s a consolation. All other students form associations when they come here but there is no Zim association even if there are plenty Zimbos. I have been invited to the Hindu society, Vietnam society and the Japanese society and it’s really nice to have people who are proud of whom they are. They even celebrate their national holidays and yesterday we were at the Hindu festival.

So there you go. Really what are a people to do? Maybe like my Dad thinks Zimbos are just the Jews of Africa persecuted from all corners. I wonder how it must feel, being confronted daily with something you have no control over; constantly self-conscious and having no peace of mind. I feel sorry for those who are embarrassed to be “Zimbo”. I’m not. And I know that the people who matter do not expect me to be either, and none of this is my fault, but one man’s – well, maybe a few other people too.