- Dear Family and Friends,
-
- I have been trying to think of a word that most accurately
describes life in the small Zimbabwean town in which I live. Lots of words
come to mind, many of which are unrepeatable but I think the most appropriate
ones are paralyzed and exhausted. Taking my soon to be 12 year old son
shopping for a pair of long trousers for his birthday, we stopped in the
middle of the road along with all the other pedestrians and cars and stared
at a little parade of school children passing to commemorate what was World
Environment Day.
-
- It was a very cold and windy morning and empty packets,
bags and other litter swirled and accumulated on the kerbs. Some who stopped
to watch were the men who push great hand carts piled with firewood they
have cut from trees on the newly liberated farms. Others who stopped were
the women who carry 20 litres buckets filled with little fish they have
caught in nearby dams, again from newly liberated farms. There was one
thing all of us who watched the parade had in common - we had all just
survived a month of drinking the most foul water that both looked and smelled
like sewage.
-
- For weeks we had been complaining to the Municipality.
The water is green, we cried, it smells, we shouted, it has "things"
floating in it. None of us had dared to walk through the streets carrying
posters saying "we demand clean water" or "we refuse to
pay to drink sewage" so we did nothing, boiled the water twice and
prayed that diarrhoea would not paralyze our children. For over a month
the entire town had suffered and now we stood staring at a parade commemorating
"Environment Day". The irony was staggering.
-
- As we stood on that street corner I looked at scores
of people and I suppose the most common expression on their faces was exhaustion.
There were no smiles and there was no chatter, just a sort of paralysis.
Having lived here all my life I suppose the most striking thing about my
home town is the silence. You seldom hear people laughing, seldom hear
people talking in the street. The most dominant feeling is one of suspicion
and of people looking over their shoulders to see who is listening.
-
- When the parade had passed my son and I crossed the road
and went into a big clothing shop. It was mid morning and we were the only
customers in the entire shop. Eager sales staff, desperate for a buyer
surrounded us. One escorted us to the rack of trousers, another hovered
and held the coat hangers, another accompanied us to the fitting room and
waited outside and two more sat at tills empty of customers. "How's
business?" I asked. "It is paralyzed," came the response.
-
- We are a town and a country paralyzed and exhausted.
We listen to the incessant propaganda on State radio and then to the horrors
reported on Short Wave Radio Africa and it is like living in two different
countries at the same time. We hear that the Governor of the Reserve Bank
is in America, England and South Africa urging Zimbabweans to send their
money home through his new systems, but we know those same people will
not be allowed to vote when it comes to election time. We hear of new fighter
jets being ordered and wonder if it is the Zimbabweans in exile whose money
will pay for them. We hear that inflation has apparently gone down to 450%
and yet the price of bread, maize and milk continue to go up. We hear of
a bumper harvest and yet we see the empty fields and we are tired, so tired
of it all.
-
- Until next time,
-
- with love, cathy.
-
- Copyright cathy buckle 19th June 2004 http://africantears.netfirms.com
My books on the Zimbabwean crisis, "African Tears" and "Beyond
Tears" are available outside Africa from: orders@africabookcentre.com
; www.africabookcentre.com ; www.amazon.co.uk ; in Australia and New Zealand:
johnmreed@johnreedbooks.com.au ; Africa: www.kalahari.net www.exclusivebooks.com
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