Today is your birthday my son. A tear fell from her eyes, I was six years old.
The bus stopped at a number of roadblocks, men were beaten up by soldiers wearing red berets and carrying rifles. There was fear in people’s eyes and my mother’s hand was shaking. By the time we stopped in the middle of the bush half the men had been taken.Â
This is where I grew up, my mother said.
We walked in silence with my younger sister strapped on my mother’s back. We arrived at my Grandmother’s house and her and my mother cried together until my grandfather told them to stop.Â
The soldiers are around, you need to change your clothes, my grandfather said.
Soldiers arrived an hour later in camouflaged uniforms carrying guns with bayonets. The elders were called; my grandfather was kicked and marched to the centre of his homestead. His five wives were summoned and one by one they were beaten until they bled. The soldiers were thorough, merciless and strong. I cried to see my grandparents who were supposed to protect us, being beaten up and humiliated.
The villagers were force marched to another homestead a few kilometers away. People were made to sing, Pamberi ne Zanu’, Pamberi,’ Pamberi nava Mugabe,’ Pamberi. Pasi na ……,’ Pasi.’
One woman was forced to ululate but it didn’t sound right.
They brought out a blindfolded man with his hands tied behind his back and his face covered in blood. A woman let out a scream. Their leader spoke for an hour, chanting slogans while one of the soldiers danced. Then there was silence.
One of the soldiers sat the blindfolded man in front of us. After a few minutes they produced a pick. A tall, hairy man with huge hands held the tool above the man’s head. We were told to look on because anyone who looked aside would be killed. The pick came crashing down on the man’s head, there was blood splattered everywhere. The singing and slogans continued. We dispersed towards dawn after a talk from the leader, Black Jesus.
So many years have passed since that day. The villagers know who did it – but they are weak and he is strong.
For the past nine years there has been hope. A new party was formed and some of my people joined. I left the country and crossed the heavily crocodile infested Limpopo.
I saw Tsvangirai on national TV the other day; he thinks he can work with Mugabe when just a few months ago he promised thousands of people at White City Stadium that he would bring us justice.
Justice is far from us. The Unity government is a clandestine strategy to pervert the course of justice, democracy and freedom. We have been cheated, African leaders should be held accountable for what they do in private and what they say in public. – BY CHRISTOPHER DAME