This update from Veritas (below) impressed me – the MDC is demonstrating in action what it means when it says it “won’t recognise” appointments like the Provincial Governors.

The part about the Senators “singing, dancing and whistling” brought to mind this image from Anton Kannemeyer’s Alphabet of Democracy series.

For the second day running MDC-T Senators brought the Senate to a standstill in protest against the presence of “intruders”.  Immediately after the opening prayer MDC-T Senator Tichaona Mudzingwa rose to object to the presence of Thokozile Mathuthu, David Karimanzira, Jason Machaya and Faber Chidarikire in the House.  [These are persons who the MDC-T say are no longer ex officio members of the Senate, as they were illegally and unconstitutionally appointed as provincial governors by President Mugabe.]  The President of the Senate refused to accept the objection, whereupon the MDC-T Senators starting singing, dancing and whistling and made such a noise that the President of the Senate rose to adjourn the Senate until February.  No business was conducted.  MDC-M Senators present did not join in the demonstration.

Today’s events were a repeat of yesterday’s adjournment without business being conducted, after MDC-T made a similar protest against the presence of Thokozile Mathuthu. The MDC-T position is that MDC-T Senators will continue to prevent the Senate conducting any business until the issue of provincial governors’ appointments has been resolved.

If the issue over the provincial governors is resolved before the 8th February, it will be possible for the Senate to be recalled early.  Senate Standing Order 187 empowers the President of the Senate, at the request of President Mugabe, to recall the Senate for an earlier meeting if the “public interest” so requires. The Senate could be recalled at any time, even if the provincial governor problem is not resolved, but this is unlikely to happen as it would, no doubt, lead to further incidents.

This other day a middle aged woman was having her hair done in the small salon I run. She was discussing her life story with the hair dresser and I happened to overhear them.

This woman had just been released from prison for armed robbery (she insists she was innocent – on that particular occasion). After putting her and her colleagues in leg irons and handcuffs they shot her twice in the abdomen. They covered her head with a sack, dunked her into a drum of water and electrocuted her. After that she was ready to admit to any crime that she was accused of.

“You can sue them you know”, I suggested.

A local guy who was close by laughed derisively.

“Sue? Sue who? Chihuri signed, the police can shoot to kill!’ He confidently said.

I was shocked. I could not believe the level of ignorance amongst ordinary Zimbabweans. I carefully explained how the justice system works and Chihuri had no authority whatsoever when it came to legislation on how the police handle suspects. A law that allows police officers to shoot a suspect who is not shooting at them can never be passed anywhere in the world, I explained.

The guy was adamant.

“Policemen shoot people at will; they will beat you up, anything…”

“Just because they do it, does not make it right,” I interjected.

What I realized that day is that people do not have information as to their basic human rights and that is one area that civic society should focus on; educating the masses on their basic human rights.

The police should not touch you and in the event that they do, you can sue them!

The campaign by the HIV/AIDS community promoting abstinence and correct and consistent condom use has seen some success, in encouraging condom usage at least, but not so much with abstinence.

In a report published by the Southern African Journal of HIV Medicine, Alan Whiteside of the Health Economics and HIV/AIDS Research Division of the University of Kwazulu Natal is trying to get HIV/AIDS advocacy groups to start talking about this and other innovative strategies. Whiteside argues

that a national “safe sex/no sex month” could help reduce the spread of HIV by skipping the period immediately after an individual acquires the virus when they are most infectious.

But given the successes and failures of present campaigns, how effective would this be? We already know that negotiating condom usage is already difficult for women in heterosexual relationships. And with the acknowledged phenomenon of multiple concurrent sexual partnerships, it may be that if one partner is not sexually available there will be another who is. It is difficult to imagine a man with a mistress, a wife and a girlfriend abstaining from sex. But what about the practicalities for sex workers whose incomes depend on how often they have sex?

In the report Whiteside referred to religious communities such as Muslims and the Marange Apostolic Sect who were found to refrain from sex during Ramadan and Passover respectively. He acknowledges that converting to a religion is not a reasonable public health strategy, but argues that these insights raise the possibility of a campaign.

The problem with any campaign and particularly this one is community buy-in. For Southern Africans, avoiding the risk of HIV infection, as evidenced by some of the highest incidence and prevalence rates in the world, is not inducement enough. With advances in medicine, and increased availability of cheap generic drugs, HIV is no longer a death sentence. More than that, the issue of HIV incidence is compounded by social issues, which won’t go away for a month.

Given all these issues, is it even practical to spend time and money campaigning for a safe sex/no sex month?

I woke up today to a gentle shower falling outside. It was a slow and steadily falling rain; the kind that nourishes the earth. The warm, life sustaining shower that slowly sinks into the ground, soaked up by a parched earth, ever falling even as the sun peeks through. When the time is right, these showers produce the most amazing rainbows. Rainbows so colourful and so vibrant you thought you only had to reach it to touch it. I have spent countless hours amazed at this phenomenon. Growing up, our mothers knew, this was the perfect rain to plant your sweet potatoes in. For the younger tots it was in such showers that you spent countless fun filled hours, playing while mothers watched with mock indignation. The rain was so gentle, so warm, a caress on our skins.

As l opened the windows, my senses were assailed by that sweet, illusive aroma that wafts from the earth at the start of the rains. You can smell it, but it defies description. You just want to go outside and roll around in the wet grass and hope you absorb it through every pore of your being. You open your mouth and take it in in large gulps. You still can’t take in enough. It is the promise of new beginnings. It speaks of renewal and rebirth. It is the sweet smell of hope. It is the reward of months of faith. It is the earth exhaling in thanksgiving. It promises tender juicy mealies; so tender you eat the corn with the cob and sweet, sweet pumpkins.  It’s the promise of mounds of hot sadza and pumpkin leaves in peanut butter sauce. It says to the watcher, watch and wait, the season of plenty is nigh.

This shower is not the violent thunderstorm that so often occurs at the start of the rain season. The storm that is often full of sound and fury and at the end leaves a trail of death and destruction. This violent storm leaves gullies in the ground and tears up the trees from their roots. The lightning incinerates homes and leaves people stranded with only the clothes on their backs. The rain from this storm does not sink into the ground; rather, it sweeps across the land, taking away crops and livestock. Destroying when it is supposed to nourish. Taking life when it is supposed to give it. Our people knew not to plant their crops by these rains. Rather, you watched and you waited. You tilled the land and you prepared your seed for soon it would be time to plant under the nourishing rains that came after the storm.

And so it is with the affairs of Zimbabwe. We have experienced the sound and fury of countless violent storms. Entire families and communities have been uprooted and displaced. Storms of violence have left a trail of death and destruction. Yet still the gentle showers come, with the promise of renewal and rebirth. We open our lungs and take gulpfuls of the sweet illusive scent of new beginnings. We prepare the ground and we ready the seed and then we watch and we wait; because since time immemorial, these showers have said, the season of plenty is nigh. For however violent the storm, it soon wears itself out.

The question of the treatment of pregnant schoolgirls, and expectant young fathers, in schools in Zimbabwe raised a great deal of discussion earlier this year.

In South Africa, it seems, this is also an issue, as the Mail & Guardian pointed out in Pregnancy unWelkom. There, the Human Rights Commission stepped in, protesting that Welkom High School’s treatment of a grade nine pupil, suspended because she was pregnant, was a violation of her rights to dignity, privacy and education, among others.

Last year, in an interview with Kubatana’s Zanele Manhenga, poet Upmost said of shops – and politicians – in Harare “I ask for change, they give me sweets.”

I was reminded of this when I was in Bulawayo last week. I asked for change, and they gave me coins.

Here are a few other highlights that made the City of Kings stand out for me:

• they stop to give you a lift – even when you arent vaguely asking for one
• the security guards also sell airtime
• the streets are so wide you dont even notice the cars
• the drivers are so polite they make way for pedestrians