My colleague walked into the office and announced that Morgan Tsvangirai is to be sworn in as Prime Minister on 11 February. He’d heard it on the state radio this morning.

Surprised, we checked the news. One story confirmed what he’d heard – but the headline was curious: SADC agrees on Zim unity govt. That’s great if SADC agrees on what Zimbabwe should do. But what has Zimbabwe agreed Zimbabwe should do?

The international press was less convincing. Reuters says Opposition disappointed with summit – and reports that the MDC says the conclusions “fall far short of our expectations,” and that they’ll meet this weekend to think about it. CNN reckons  Conflicting reports blur Zimbabwe deal and reports that the MDC says its “concerns remained unresolved.” So what is going on? According to CNN:

A source close to the talks said Tsvangirai agreed to all the decisions that the SADC made, but that other MDC leaders were unhappy with the agreement once he left the talks.

So does Operation Flip Flop continue? Will the MDC continue to waffle its way through these negotiations – when the very notion of negotiating with an entrenched and recalcitrant dictator is absurd.

A comment on our blog reads “Mugabe and Tsvangarai ‘working together’ was never a realistic or desirable outcome. Tsvangarai shouldn’t be working with Mugabe, because Mugabe is not capable of sharing power.” I agree with the theory of that. But unfortunately, as another colleague just pointed out, Tsvangirai is more desperate than Mugabe – desperate enough that he’s willing to negotiate in the first place.

A couple days ago was my birthday. I went through the usual range of emotions around being happy and noting I’m creeping further into being less young. Amidst this I didn’t skimp on celebrating (thanks to very kind friends) and I reveled in a much loved hobby of mine, finding new favorite songs. Venturing into new music dates me, and worse I caught myself saying: Kids today. I don’t understand their music. Why do the boys where trousers ten sizes too big? And those skimpy tops and high heels girls wear can’t possibly be comfortable. Did I sound like my mother or what!

Still I went onward in search of a cool new song. One with a message. One that would make me think about the world in which we live. Sometimes a tall order given music today seems dominated by teenagers. Even with poignant lyrics I wonder how a 16 year old really understands the intricacies of what they belt out. I stumbled across a song by Rihanna, who I’m told is all the rage. I had doubts since her last hit was about an umbrella. But this new song ­ Disturbia ­ got me thinking about ranges of emotions. I’ve put some of the lyrics at the end and below are reworked lyrics along with a bit about wonder and what is disturbia.

Harare is one city of wonder Rihanna might be referencing. Wonder because it still functions. Disturbia for what it does to you. The politicians don’t play nice and some of the citizens might just go under. Just to get by each day is a disease of the mind. It can control you. The city of wonder, it’s a thief in the night. To come and grab you. It can creep up inside you. And consume you. Yet many people manage to go on. Nothing heard, nothing said. Can’t even speak about it. Better think twice. Your train of thought will be altered. So if you must falter be wise. Your mind is in disturbia.

It’s not just Zimbabwean cities which expose disturbia. As much as Obama’s campaign and victory are profound, they also make me think about how US cities are those of wonder. Time will tell if Team Obama delivers their enlightened visions. The wonder is to think about the beauty of those possibilities. And the wonder is to recognize the mixed messages and disturbia so deeply embedded in the minds of far too many Americans. Obama’s new title President-Elect doesn’t change the (unintended?) message when McCain corrected a supporter by saying: Obama is a decent man, he’s not an Arab. Nor does it change that someone at a Palin rally shouted out “kill him” (presumably referring to Obama. The US often hides behind labels such as democracy, land of opportunity, or some such. When simultaneously a whole lot of Americans are, like there’s no tomorrow, unwilling to embrace difference and diversity. Thankfully over 50% of Americans felt Obama was the better candidate. Staying up all night to witness this victory afforded me a rare moment of not minding being an American. But I’m also not hesitant to point out that even though Zimbabwe is perhaps the more obvious and immediate wondrous space caught in disturbia, Obama too is up against a lot of disturbia.

What’s wrong with me?
Why do I feel like this?
I’m going crazy now

No more gas in the rig
Can’t even get it started
Nothing heard, nothing said
Can’t even speak about it
All my life on my head
Don’t want to think about it
Feels like I’m going insane
Yeah

It’s a thief in the night
To come and grab you
It can creep up inside you
And consume you
A disease of the mind
It can control you
It’s too close for comfort

Put on your green lights
We’re in the city of wonder
Ain’t gonna play nice
Watch out, you might just go under
Better think twice
Your train of thought will be altered
So if you must falter be wise
Your mind is in disturbia
It’s like the darkness is the light
Disturbia
Am I scaring you tonight
Disturbia
Ain’t used to what you like
Disturbia
Disturbia

The Kubatana team went to a public meeting last night in Harare. The speakers: four men. The moderator: a man. The audience: over 100 men, and maybe 30 women. Audience members who asked questions: Men again. Why are there so few women panelists and moderators at public meetings organised by civil society in Zimbabwe? What can be done to ensure that more women attend these meetings, and participate in them?

The Kubatana team was in Johannesburg recently for MobileActive08. As we moved around the city, we spoke with taxi drivers about the ANC split, Xenophobia, Zimbabwe, and other issues.

Here are a few snippets of our conversations:

Troublemakers, they kind of respect the taxi drivers. For other people, they have no respect. But for taxi drivers, they kind of leave us alone. They know we can make our own violence.

—–

People must tell the truth. It will heal other people. Actually, that will teach people to learn, and forgive. Otherwise, when it’s not done, I will see a Shona person, and think you’re a part of Mugabe. You killed our people. You know, things like that. But if there is TRC [a Truth and Reconciliation process], then I think people will be able to see, okay, fine. This is what happened. Let’s forget about it.

—–

You’ll never get a settlement in Zimbabwe. You know why? Because they’re making too much money. They’ve got 25-tonne trucks travelling up and down from Zimbabwe to Jo’burg and Jo’burg to Zimbabwe everyday. With all the food in it you want to eat. All the appliances you want to buy. Those people are my customers like you sit there. I ride them to the trucks. I fetch them from the trucks. It’s completely shocking.

—–

There is no such thing as a Rainbow Nation. You must know where you come from and know where you’re going. If you’re a Zulu you’re a Zulu. If you’re a Xhosa you’re a Xhosa. Now (interim president Kgalema) Motlanthe is more of a rainbow person. He can socialize with anyone. Which is not right. We need someone who is either a Xhosa, or a Zulu.

—–

You know that woman that they say Zuma raped? It’s untrue. She was involved with Zuma for a very long time. Zuma was actually planning to marry her as one of his wives. So, they blame the Intelligence Minister. That might be true, that he tried to convince that lady, to pay her money so that she can threaten Zuma. That’s what she did! Those questions were asked in court – and she couldn’t manage to answer them. There were police outside, she had a phone, and there was a house phone. And you wake up in the morning, take a bath, make food, fry eggs, you eat, make phone calls. You know? The door’s unlocked. And you come up later and say you’ve been raped. Why didn’t she go out and report at the same time, when police were outside Zuma’s house. Besides that, she should have called. Or wake up in the morning and go and make a statement at the police station.

I was catching up on some reading the other day, looking at a Guardian newspaper from August. At first I thought, what’s the point? This will be news I’ve already read in other places. To compensate, I started from the back with book reviews and culture-related articles since those are not so time sensitive. It didn’t take long for me to become engrossed.

As I worked toward the front of the newspaper, the old news ended up interesting. I got to an article titled Impasse for Zimbabwe. The article was full of words like negotiations, suspended, no closer to resolution, sticking points, concessions, refuses to cede, cling to power. I read the article twice. The analysis was excellent. Made me really think about the power-sharing deal signed on September 15. How it was all a big to do for nothing. That ZANU-PF never had one iota of intention to honor what they signed off on.

Wait a second. How is this journalist writing about the September 15 power-sharing deal in August? I must have read the date on the cover wrong, I thought. This must be a current Guardian I’m reading. I checked and double-checked. Stared at the cover, which said August 15-22, 2008. It must have been my peaceful, have faith nature that was tripping me up. I was really, genuinely, truly confused, felt like I was in some sort of time warp. As if the Guardian is actually a science fiction publication with writers who analyze the future before it’s the present. Maybe these futuristic journalists also drive cool bubble-shaped rocket cars. And have digital tape recording devices in their brains.

But no. Sadly, I was in a different kind of time warp. The continuous and painful repetition of denying Zimbabweans a democratically elected government. What was going down pre power-sharing deal is exactly the same as what’s going down post power-sharing deal. In fact, so entirely word-for-word the same, makes me wonder if there are journalists who just cut and paste their material.

I sing the song of the Matebele,
I sing the song of the tortured, butchered, marginalised and ostracized,
I sing the song of the hopeless,
It is the cry of the downtrodden, weary, and abused,
It is the voice of the Ndebele people.

My muffled voice wails from the deep dungeons of the Great Shangani River where my king’s story ends.
Deep in the dungeons, I cry for recognition and inclusion yet no one seems to take notice.
Every time I make an attempt to claim my position, to claim recognition and identity I am labelled a tribalist and a sell-out.
Every time this happens I am drawn back to self pity and self hatred.

My pain has been worsened by the Son of Bona
The Son of Bona tortured, brutalised and killed my clansmen simply because they were Ndebele.
Since then he never looked back.
He has made sure that my people are marginalised and peripherised.
Now he has made it worse by refusing to let go the reigns of leadership.
My cry is now so deep such that its tears can fill an ocean.
It is this deep because I see myself and my clansmen buried in poverty and swallowed by doldrums of history.

My cry has grown to be a cry of the people of Zimbabwe.
This is because the bitterness is no longer the Ndebele one only but a bitterness of everyone in Zimbabwe.
Son of Bona, you have destroyed our beautiful land, you have destroyed our pride as a nation.

I cry for the departure of the Son of Bona.
Son of Bona, Zimbabwe has had enough of you.
Son of the Bona, you cannot offer us anything that we can believe in.
Give others a chance to lead; Zimbabwe is for all of us.
Farewell, Son of Bona, Zimbabwe will be a better nation without you.