It only takes a spark

The closer I got, the wider the storms seemed to be, looking like dense grey smoke, until suddenly I was right in the middle of one. Big, heavy rain drops pounded down and soon turned into a torrential downpour. Visibility dropped to just a few metres, the temperature plummeted and the noise was deafening. In less than 10 minutes it was all over; the rain band moved, leaving pools of water on the verges and clouds of steam rising off the tar.

Before long the view was again of tall golden grass, tips bent over, heavy with their new crop of seed. In amongst the grass the occasional glimpses of pink, purple and white Cosmos flowers. Flowers that will always remind me of the road to my farm where the pink and white extravaganza crowded the verges and were a delight to see, always lifting tired spirits after long days working out on the land.

Funny, isnt it, how a flower in the golden grass a decade later, can provide a flashback to another life: a time when our country was fat and flourishing, healthy and prosperous.

On my return journey a couple of hours after the rain storm, the steaming tar was dry, pools and puddles had disappeared and been replaced by a feeding frenzy, an aerial uprising. The rain storm had prompted millions of flying ants to emerge and embark on their first and only flight.

The attackers descended on them from every direction. Dozens of falcons filled the skies. From trees and bushes they came in their scores and then hundreds to feast on the flying ants. From their perches on overhead electricity lines and pylons they plunged and plummeted on their prey, swooping and circling in so many hundreds they were impossible to distinguish individually or to estimate their number.

For a moment it looked like the masses crowded and shouting for freedom in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya! These birds, once called the Eastern Redfooted Kestrel, have now been reclassified and are known as Amur Falcons. Once a year, for just a few months, they come in their thousands to Harare where they roost in a gum tree plantation in Tafara.

After the storm had passed I again turned my attention to the people on the roadsides, looking for signs of another kind of uprising. After Tunisia, Egypt and now Libya, its hard not to look for the beginnings. We have all the ingredients needed: unemployment estimated to be over 90%, a civil service earning less than half amount of the poverty datum line, continual water and electricity shortages if you can afford the services at all – and a very uneasy political situation.

They say that an uprising takes a spark but so far it hasnt ignited. 45 people arrested in Harare for watching videos of Tunisian and Egyptian uprisings remain in detention as I write and lawyers report that at least six have been beaten whilst under interrogation in custody. The spark hasnt ignited yet in Nyanga where the MDC MP remains in detention and a witch hunt is underway in remote mountainous villages. The MDC spokesman for the province says three truck loads of Zanu (PF) youths were going house to house looking for MDC supporters and hundreds of villagers have fled into Mozambique, crossing the Gairezi river which runs along the border.

While this is happening, people try to makes ends meet and women sit on the roadsides selling watermelons: enormous green gourds filled with dripping, sweet, crimson flesh just the sight of them makes your mouth water! Young men are on the roadsides too and the smell of roasting maize cobs, lined up against little fires tempt you with the taste of a country so tired and yet so resilient. Until next week, thanks for reading, Ndini shamwari yenyu.