Symbolic patriotism
Yesterday after work I was walking down Central Avenue on my way home. It was after five and I was approaching the new government complex opposite the post office when something very peculiar happened. Everyone who was directly in front of the government complex within about a 15 metre radius suddenly stopped and froze in their various postures of intended motion. I approached the small crowd cautiously, feeling sure that something occult had just happened when a policeman whom I hadn’t noticed suddenly ordered me to stop also. Before I could protest or even ask what was going on, a group of three men were also ordered to stop dead in their tracks. One of them quickly protested saying he was late for something but the police officer just gave him a blank stare and repeated his order. I’m not sure if the order also meant no talking because everyone who stood there seemed to be tongue-tied. All kinds of questions were spinning in my head as I wondered if possibly I was the only one who didn’t know what the hell was going down.
Was Mugabe in the vicinity or something? But then again only cars stop for the illustrious presidential motorcade, not people. Or was this going to be another random forex check? God help me but Gono said it was okay to buy with it so it must also be okay to actually possess it. Last time I was a victim of forex random checks was when I moved to Harare a few years ago and didn’t know that milling around Ximex Mall simply made one a suspected forex dealer. I remember vividly how policemen appeared from nowhere and randomly grabbed people, including myself, and threw us into their trucks to take us to the charge office for a random search. It was dangerous then to be caught with certain amounts of forex, lucky for me I had none.
The minute long wait in front of the government complex seemed like ages. Only when the policeman himself started walking did everyone else shake out of his or her hypnotic state. I was determined to know what it had been all about so I followed the police officer and asked. He rudely asked me if I didn’t know that when the Zimbabwe flag is being taken down everyone stops as a sign of respect and patriotism. All the time I’ve stayed in Harare I’ve never noticed the flag that hangs to the left of the new government complex entrance. Last time I stopped for the flag was back in high school at assembly when we sang the national anthem while it was being hoisted. Besides, I didn’t know one also stops for it when it’s being taken down, let alone in the middle of a busy city pavement. But in Zimbabwe ignorance is no excuse. Ask those whose cars have dared malfunction in front of State House and they will tell you the dire consequences of such an unfortunate thing happening to you. Or try taking pictures or even pointing towards State House and the soldiers will give you the beating of your life.
As I walked away I had this sickening empty feeling you get when you’ve just been forced to do something you wouldn’t ordinarily do from free will and volition. I tried to imagine what I would have done had I known what was going on. Would I have resisted and what would the police officer have done to me? That bit is not hard to imagine.
Is this how patriotism works in Zimbabwe; being made to stop dead in your tracks in respect of the flag even though you don’t feel it deep inside? I understand patriotism to be the love and loyalty one feels for one’s country and a patriot is someone who supports and is prepared to serve her country. I love this country and some of its people but not its government. The current government doesn’t love me enough to put in place workable policies and mechanisms to make life bearable so why should I love them?
Does symbolic demonstration of patriotism actually define its existence? If I hadn’t stopped for the flag would that have made me less of a patriot? For whom are these little things intended, because the ordinary person who is hungry from lack of food and tired from waiting in long queues couldn’t give a rat’s behind what patriotism means.