16 January 1998

Patricias father died in 1973 and she has never been able to visit his grave in Harare and pay her last respects.  So, last weekend we had a day off and took Patricia, her son Tendai and his youngest daughter Kosi, aged 3, on the long drive to Harare.

We stayed at her younger sisters house in the Ardbennie suburb of Harare.  It is quite a big house, very similar to ours in Bulawayo, on a large plot where they grow maize and keep hens and turkeys.  The head of the family, Arthur, is the first Zimbabwean who has been prepared to discuss politics with us.  He initiated discussions on various issues and holds sensible views - that is, we agree with him!

A refrigeration engineer who served an apprenticeship under the colonial regime, he knows how to do things properly.  His view is that after independence the new government told everyone to have a good time and not bother working too hard!  Asked why there are so few successful black-run businesses, he said that most people took the profits (and more) to buy big cars and go off to Mauritius with girl friends, leaving huge debts when reality eventually caught up with them.

On Saturday morning we went to visit Patricias mother, and were met with the depressing news that a niece, aged about 30, had died during the night.  Scores of neighbours had come to express sympathy, and we felt ourselves to be helpless intruders on such a private occasion.  Nevertheless, we were made welcome and joined the mourners sitting on the bare concrete floor of a small room with blackened walls that probably hadnt been cleaned or painted in fifty years.  Mags knelt down and shook hands with the women, then sat on the ground with them for a few minutes, as is customary, asking about their families.  We gave a little money towards funeral expenses.

Patricias mother has been debilitated with a variety of ailments for about three years.  She sat drinking water from a plastic bottle and spitting into a bowl, just as she did when we last saw her in Entumbane.  An aunt is dying of painful breast cancer - she doesnt know it’s cancer - and lifted up her top to show us her discoloured breast.  People are much more relaxed about their bodies here.  Mothers are always getting out a breast to feed their babies, which they do until they are about 18 months old. 

After a decent interval, we left to collect Patricias younger brother Krato from another small house in a crowded part of Harare.  He was left to raise four children when his wife died in November 1996, partly as a result of a strike by doctors and nurses.  She had been taken from one hospital to another without receiving treatment.

We set off into the countryside, where a relative looks after the youngest of Kratos children, a girl aged three.  We bought some groceries and beer, and arrived at a much more prosperous place than we expected.  The maize fields were growing well and alongside the round cooking huts there were several small brick built houses with asbestos roofs.  Everything looked well cared for and tidy.

Krato gave us lots of information and could answer our questions properly, not in the usual vague fashion.  After lunch, we walked over to a house nearby to meet the brother of Patricias father.  A tall well-dressed man, he worked in the city as an accountant before retiring on a pension.  His house is well furnished with armchairs, a settee, glass-fronted cabinets and pictures on the wall.  He proudly showed us photographs of his daughter, who is training to be a nun in Rome.  Theres no electricity, but a car battery powers a small radio.

Patricia and Tendai paid their respects to him as head of the family, and quietly asked him to reconcile them with his dead brothers spirit.  Patricia handed over a little money, about $20.  Despite being Christian - Patricia attends a Baptist church - most people still believe dead ancestors can exert power and influence over the living.

Everyone trooped over to the three graves at the edge of the maize field.  We hung back so Patricia could be alone, but she asked us to accompany her.  The graves had been concreted over and the names of the deceased crudely inscribed in the concrete headstones.  Patricia and Tendai spent a few minutes there, speaking softly to the dead, before leaving them in peace.


27 July 1999

Joshua Nkomo
s funeral was an embarrassment because Mugabe has no respect for rivals, especially if they are Ndebele.  At first, he merely expressed the wish that employers would give workers time off to attend the funeral or watch it on TV.  Later, he realised he had misjudged the mood and declared a national holiday.

We left work for a short time to join the hundreds who had come out to watch the hearse being brought from the airport into town along Robert Mugabe Way.  Two women danced and sang at the side of the road, but it wasnt much of an occasion because the motorcade swept past at such a high speed that it was all over in a few seconds.  Somehow a couple of Presidential Mercedes, preceded by heavily armed soldiers and followed by a fleet of flag waving mini-buses, doesnt seem an appropriate way to show respect to a great man.

Mugabe used the funeral to denounce the IMF, attack whites and restate his position on the land issue in a rabble-rousing speech.  He hardly mentioned Nkomo.  It was as though Earl Spencer had launched an attack on high levels of Income Tax and the threat to fox hunting at Princess Dianas funeral.  His fear is that Nkomos death will spark unrest in Matabeleland.  There was much talk of national unity, and Mugabe admitted for the first time that his extermination of tens of thousands of Ndebele in the mid-80s had been an act of madness.

Chenjerai Hitler Hunzvi, the leader of the war veterans was allowed to break his bail conditions to attend.  In an act of brazen showmanship, he tearfully praised the great man, pausing every so often for a sidekick to lean across and wipe away his tears with a bright orange handkerchief!

Significantly, there are no streets or buildings in Zimbabwe named after Nkomo, although Mugabe promised to rectify the situation.  However, he has rejected calls to appoint a replacement Vice-President from Matabeleland.  It seems he can only be magnanimous with his words, never his deeds.

5 December 1999 

Lindani’s two-month old baby died suddenly of bronchial pneumonia in the middle of the night.  Not having any money, and unsure what to do, Lindani walked to Ilanda to ask for our assistance.  So we took Lindani, his wife, and baby to the mortuary for a post mortem.  Very sad.  We each silently held the little body in our arms for a while so that Lindani and his wife could deal with the paperwork.  The baby looked so perfect.  It was impossible to believe that a quiet word could not rouse her to open her eyes.  It takes only a moment to die.

Next day we went to an undertaker to arrange and pay for a funeral.  Lindani and his wife were in such a shocked state that they just decided on a simple coffin and for the body to be cremated.  Not wanting to attend any kind of ceremony, they left everything to the undertaker.  Their baby had died and they had walked away in silent resignation.  That disturbed us, but what could they do except get on with their lives?

15 January 2001 

The police are too trigger-happy and are shooting at anyone on the slightest pretext. T here was a commotion in Harare when a bus ran into a blind man.  The bus tried to make off, and a panic stricken policeman fired at it, killing a street vendor.  This sparked a riot.  A few days later, a police officer was stabbed to death in a revenge attack.

A mentally deranged drunk was shot dead at State House in Harare.  He had ignored the guards’ warnings, but instead of restraining him, which they could easily have done, they opened fire.  In a separate incident, a suspected cell phone thief was shot.  A six-year-old boy was shot dead by police while sleeping in the back of his father’s car.  The father had been signalled to pull in by two plain-clothes policemen driving a private vehicle.  He suspected them of being car-jackers and kept on driving.  The police in Bulawayo have also been shooting at people for trivial reasons.

Crime is on the increase as poverty takes hold.  Patricia’s son David was knifed just before Christmas.  One of our work colleagues had his wife’s brother killed in a knife attack by a stranger.  Last week, Patricia had to beat off a thief with her handbag.  We are concerned about this turn of events, as we have always considered Bulawayo to be safe.

22 January 2001

Lizzie recently took time off to attend the funerals of two relatives who had both died of AIDS.  She visited one cousin a few days before her death, and told us that she said she felt no pain.  Too often we are shocked to hear of the sudden death of someone at work.  You see them one day, looking perfectly fit and healthy, and two days later they’re dead.  It makes you wonder if it really is AIDS.  It’s a personal tragedy for the people involved, but there are too many cultural factors to be overcome before this plague can be brought under control.

15 May 2001

Border Gezi, the Minister for Youth Employment and Employment Creation, died in a car crash a couple of weeks ago.  He was on his way to distribute another million dollars for ‘income generating projects’ (probably another chicken rearing scheme) in one of the provinces.  There was no other traffic on the road, so it’s considered a bit of a mystery by some conspiracy theorists, but it’s probably just a case of sloppy workmanship.  He has been awarded Liberation War Hero status and buried at Heroes Acre.  Few outside ZANU PF mourned his passing.

3 June 2001 

Last week, Moven Mahachi, the Defence Minister died in a car crash.  This time it was a collision with another vehicle and more fuel has been added to the speculation.  Needless to say, he has been awarded Liberation War Hero status and buried at Heroes Acre.

24 June 2001

The ZANU PF death toll is rising. Chenjerai Hunzvi has died of AIDS (though the state media refer to the cause of death as malaria).  Patricia told Ken the news as he arrived home from work, saying “the dog is dead” with a wicked laugh.  He has been awarded Liberation War Hero status and buried at Heroes Acre.  How can we stay in a country where a man like Hunzvi, who has done his utmost to destroy it, is treated like a hero?  At the funeral, Mugabe’s sister went over to the grave of Mugabe’s first wife Sally, wailing out loud, asking the dead woman’s spirit why it was persecuting the President.  The reason is pretty obvious (if you believe in ancestral spirits), given that Mugabe was conducting an adulterous affair and siring a son with his secretary (now his wife) during Sally’s last years.  People are beginning to believe that witchcraft might be the cause of the recent deaths in the party hierarchy.  Others hint that infighting is responsible.  Who knows?