In my cruel, beloved homeland, Zimbabwe, serious argument with my fellow citizens about changing our damned political and economic situation with action always meets with a defeatist stand: ‘zvichanaka chete/kuzolunga’,( everything will be fine). It is a permanent mind set for a Zimbabwean in trouble, especially if that trouble has not caused him much physical pain.
Zimbabweans believe the myth that we are an extremely patient lot. I just wonder all the time if this fear and subjugation is not simply our deep fear to change our own situation. The ‘zvichanaka/kuzolunga’ mentality is really a badge of our acceptance of defeat and resignation. It is like a man being eaten by a lion and keeping faith in the possibility that the lion will not eat the whole of him so his bones can walk home, even in pieces. Zvichanaka chete/kuzolunga! Everything will be fine.
But while the ‘kuzolunga/zvichanaka’ mentality is safe enough to avoid instant pain or heart attacks and other visible upheavals , the same mentality is a sign of slow physical and mental decay. The zvichanaka mentality avoids even the mere mention of how things will be smoothed up and by who, let alone when. Who is going to ‘lungisa’ or ‘gadzira’ (fix) the turbulence?
The shamefulness of it all is that a man who has neither a job nor any prospect of getting one, still wears the ‘all-will-be –well’ mask. When he arrives home to his starving children, he has the pretentious courage to tell the children that things will be well even though they have already dropped out of school while their bellies rumble with hunger. The poor children and wife have probably known new clothes only in their dreams for a long time. But still, he wears the false cap of ‘kuzolunga/zvichanaka’ as if forcing his family to live a present death in order to enjoy the after-life. What is the purpose of dreaming about a bright future when the present is mere death?
Thus, the cowardly Zimbabwean calms his wife and children, who, in the name of family peace, succumb to that belief too, as if it were a message extracted directly from the mouth of the ancestors and the gods. Yes, Zimbabweans are peace-loving, besides being patient even in times of death. Ours is the patience of corpses, and we wear the mask with total, passionate commitment as if it were a heroic medal.
Every day, bizarre stories of how Zimbabweans butcher each other flood local newspapers. Where is the peace-loving nature in an HIV positive man who decides to infect dozens of women before he dies. Such a man usually carries with him the conviction that he will not die alone.
Where the peace-loving men or woman’s heart when he/she rapes under-age youths as reported in our media? And we have the loving lungs to laugh at stories of how even pregnant women are abused by being forced to pay a fine expressing the agony of childbirth. God-fearing nation, indeed! Men and women of my cruel country murder each other for the smallest of offences. Children are sexually-abused by their parents every day. And yet we continue to wear the peace-loving, warm-hearted mask. Knock down someone’s beer mug, and a nation-size fight ensures. As for snatching someone’s alleged girl-friend or boyfriend, Zimbabweans bring the whole armoury for the war. But we insist that we are a ‘peace-loving ‘ people even as innocent children are killed for some weird secret rituals in search of wealth.
I once shed bitter tears as I stared at the scalded, burnt-out face of a man whose wife had emptied a whole pot of boiling oil on her sleeping husband’s face. Yes, it was family quarrel, the Zimbabwean way. And that man is not the only one to suffer in the hands of a ‘loving’ wife. Cruel, beloved homeland!
Non-violent, peace-loving, god-fearing citizens, our public mask screams. In our homeland, life is cheaper than sand or water.
The Shona belief in total submissiveness is hidden in the false saying: ‘chaitemura chave kuseva’. (One who used to starve is now feasting). That saying encourages acquiescence, passivity in times of crisis. It kills the capacity to fight for one’s betterment in the belief that one day, good fortune will just knock on one’s door, and the recipient suddenly swim the waters of abundance and plenty. ‘Zvichanaka chete.’ (Everything will be fine, never mind today and its problems, they will be a thing of the past).
Recently, I discovered that this mentality of unlimited patience has infiltrated the normally no-nonsense Ndebele people, making the malaise a really serious, national one. The disease of too much patience has invaded and afflicted Zimbabweans to a point where they generally wouldn’t care waiting for days to get a birth certificate while those who can bribe get it in one minute. Or, if there is some kind of protest, it is a private and subdued one. As long as it is someone else’s problem, it is not my worry, we believe. When the people of the western provinces were being massacred, the Shona speaking citizens kept their silence. It was not their problem.
Most Zimbabweans would rather just sit and watch while their neighbour gets harassed or tortured by the police. It is the neighbour’s problem if he so much as dare provoke the police, anyway. Zimbabweans want to keep out of ‘trouble’ so much. They would rather see you dragged to prison for fear of going to court to witness in your favour. ‘It is his problem, not mine,’ the neighbour says as he sees an innocent man being brutalized by the police.
In all this saga of subdued and passive individualism, I came to know that one should not bank on relatives to be on your side even if you fight for their rights and freedoms. As the police (secret or uniformed) come for you, your relatives are the first to disown you. They would never volunteer to intervene or protest on your behalf. Every man is in charge of preserving their own skin, as it were.
Passive subjugation is actually worse in the cities. In the countryside, during the colonial times, some old men and women used to protest to the District Commissioner if a villager was arrested. In today’s cities, people are disappeared but their ‘friends’ and ‘lovely’ neighbours would never dare open their mouths about your fate. It is your problem, not theirs.
The other Zimbabwean myth is the pretentious belief that we are a nation of brave fighters, heroes.
Zimbabweans are the easiest people to oppress. A bus ride can easily turn into a nightmare if a single passenger happens to annoy the all-powerful bus conductor. The tyrannical bus conductor can harass the poor passenger, beat him up or throw him out of the moving bus, to death. And no one will raise a voice. One man tyrannizes dozens of passengers at will! This scene is re-cycled every day, on every road, in all places, public and private. A single bully in a pub can terrorize all revellers at will, and nobody intervenes. The bully is soon a subject of good humour and hero-worship.
At critical moments, Zimbabweans shelve their principles for the sake of personal safety. Danger evaporates any sense of justice and fair play in the heart and mind of a Zimbabwean. Danger is only called ‘danger’ if it affects me, but when it comes to someone else, Zimbabweans cynically congratulate themselves behind closed doors: ‘Nhasi zvamuwana!’ (Today trouble has found him). Someone’s trouble is not my trouble, a Zimbabwean mind believes.
Zimbabweans also cling to the arrogant myth that they are the best educated people in Africa. This is a dangerous mask which continues to nourish our national self-aggrandisement.
The truth of the matter is that even in personal arguments, the difference between an enemy and a critic is thin among us. It would be interesting to conduct a serious sociological study of what kind of arguments lead to fist fights in a Zimbabwean environment. I have witnessed fights between mature men over the simplest thing on earth: the boxing match between so-and-so happened on a Tuesday, and the other one says it happened on a Thursday. In Zimbabwe, such a triviality can end up in a massive fist fight and stone throwing, even sharp knives and death.
What must be accepted is that Zimbabweans are fantastic performers capable of acting as if they were deeply peace-loving, patient, generous, welcoming, honest and highly- educated. While such a language of myths and masks might be good for tourism, it is far removed from the proper re-shaping of our personal and national identities. For now and the distant future, all I know is our reality contains other matters: mischievous chicanery, pretence, cruelty, anger, dishonesty and bitterness which are caged in the majority of Zimbabwean masked hearts and minds. – © Chenjerai Hove, 2013, Stavanger, Norway
Post published in: Opinions & Analysis