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Zimbabwe - Diary Of A 'War Veteran'
The London Daily Telegraph
© Copyright of Telegraph Group Limited Published
8-13-2

Dear Jeff,
 
This was written by a "war vet" working for Mugabe's government to take over white farms. It gives some insight into what is going on there.
 
Best wishes
Peter W.
 
 
 
JF in Matabeleland received this diary from one of the government-sponsored thugs enforcing this week's deadline for the final withdrawal of white farmers from their land. While he cannot be named, he wanted it published as a personal gesture of defiance against the vortex of violence that has become his life.
 
Wednesday, August 7
 
I am woken by a phone call from the boss and told to report to the Zanu-PF offices at 8am.
 
 
"The day has finally come my friend," my governor shouts down the line, "we are going to show these British settlers that they have outstayed their welcome."
 
 
For the past two years, I have organised invasions, beatings, abductions and even murder on behalf of Mugabe's government. I used to think of it as my own guerrilla war - I was too young to have fought for independence.
 
It did not take that long for me to realise that there is nothing heroic or brave about terrorising people just because they are white or vote for another party. I don't even get paid for doing his dirty work any more. It is a life sentence. If I leave, I will be hunted down and shot like an animal.
 
The meeting is at the government complex in Bulawayo. More than 300 of us - war veterans and youth militia - are packed into the hall. Ignatius Chombo, a nephew of Mugabe's and head of the land reform programme, leads the meeting.
 
He can probably tell we have lost our thirst for blood. He shouts and shakes his fist. He accuses the white farmers of being arrogant, selfish and superior. "They don't want to share their treasures with you because you are just worthless blacks."
 
The youths whistle and shout and dance on the spot, calling for blood. I command a battalion of about 200 youths and we are to be given police riot uniforms, though none of us are police officers. Chombo says we must be seen to be working with the "might of the law" on our side.
 
I return home with dread in my stomach. I have brought no money home for months and rely on wife's salary, but some months she doesn't get paid either. I am an embarrassment to her and my children and I wish I could change the past.
 
Three years ago, I was made redundant from my job as a trainee manager at a factory. I began hawking on the streets and had a few guys working for me. I was hoping to open a shop one day.
 
Then I was spotted by a Zanu-PF official who recruited me into the militia as a commander. I knew in my heart that it would end badly, but was promised land, a car, money and power. I signed up.
 
 
Thursday, August 8
 
 
The eviction deadline for white farmers is tonight. I am told to gather my youths and send them on to the land and show the whites we mean business. I have a list of 60 farms in the areas to be cleared as a priority. They are owned by MDC supporters or allocated to ministers or friends of Mugabe. I am allocated police riot uniforms for my teams. Once night begins to fall, I drive groups to farms surrounding Bulawayo with orders to "hassle and unsettle" the farmers and their workers. We have been told to take everything from the property "except clothes".
 
After dropping off my last group of youths, I stop off at the homestead of a white farmer who has become a friend. Over a cup of sweet tea, I tell this man, who should be my enemy, where the roadblocks will be the following day so he can avoid trouble.
 
He has built a clinic and a school on his land. There is no way they can stay open if he quits. We agree that the situation is a mess. But at least I can try to make sure this white is spared the worst of any violence.
 
 
I rejoin one of my groups who are sitting at the gate of a tobacco farm. I try to relax over a game of cards. Someone accuses someone else of cheating. Punches and insults are thrown. At the end of the day, we are just a bunch of kids dressed up as policemen.
 
Friday, August 9
 
The youths are up at daybreak and anxious to see some action. One has a box of matches and says he is going to start burning. The farm workers come and go as though we are not there and this angers the militia.
 
The governor calls and orders me back into town for another meeting. I tell the youths they must not act without my orders. I give one of them a punch in the head to show they have to listen to what I say.
 
I hear shouting as I walk into the Zanu-PF offices. Chiefs in Harare say there are details still to be worked out before we can move our men onto the land, but that the notices will be enforced. There is no extension to the deadline: they insist "stubborn and selfish" whites will learn their lesson.
 
Our boss is frustrated. "We have waited too long already," he yells at me. I listen to the radio which reports that farmers are leaving their land in huge numbers. But that is not what I have seen with my own eyes.
 
Saturday, August 10
 
Another meeting. Bernard Chidzero, Zimbabwe's first black finance minister, who died last week, has been declared a national hero. The President says he will be buried on Monday - Heroes' Day - at Heroes Acre in Harare. We are not to let the farmers steal any attention from him, the bosses say.
 
I hear "grace period" being mentioned and am told to be ready for the "day of reckoning" on Tuesday.
 
I go back to the rural areas to let the youth know what is going on. On the way, I stop off to see my white farmer friend to tell him to relax for the rest of the weekend.





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