In recent discussions with several colleagues, we floated the idea of organizing a conference in Harare on sexualities. I would emphasize the full stop. Not reproductive and sexual health. Not HIV/AIDS, gender, and sexuality. Not violence against women and sexuality. Those are topics worthy of attention as well as a conference. Yet, conversations have had a slightly different focus, more an interest in exploring sexuality itself by examining, for example: How Zimbabweans understand and negotiate their own sexual selves. The rich histories of sexual practices and meanings in Zimbabwe. The ways discourses around sexuality make their way into projects of nation-building. The blending of Western and African ideas and categories in expressions of sexual rights and sexual liberation. Such a conference would continue to open up discussions about sexualities. Additionally, a meeting of the minds might lend insights into the ways sexuality relates to how day-to-day life happens, and is interwoven into economic, political, and social issues informing advocacy and challenges to the status quo.

The play Loupe, by Mandisi Gobodi, which ran during HIFA, is a good example of the ways sexuality can be an entry point to examine the landscapes and dynamics of the environments we live in. Or in this case a loupe, which is a type of magnifying glass. In the play, two brothers are at odds. One brother (Kilem) is a party commissar; he’s a comrade who likes beer, women, and power. Kilem’s younger brother (Sizwe) reveals he’s gay. In part, the play is about family bonds, while portraying a possible reaction to a family member acknowledging same-sex attraction. But the play is much, much more than a play with a “homosexual” theme. To a degree, the fact that Sizwe wants an intimate relationship another man is irrelevant. The overarching message of the play could have worked if Kilem was reacting to Sizwe having any goal he (Kilem) perceived as wrong. The play astutely unpacks, through Kilem and through sexuality, a mindset that seems present in Zimbabwe, and all over the world. It’s a mind-set driven by the desire to hold extreme and forceful power over people, ideas, and behavior. To manipulate facts, diminish individual rights, and selectively control what is acceptable. All the while building a power base to pressure others to conform. It’s a mindset that might be described as masculine, but not necessarily practiced by men only.

Gobodi’s writing is nothing short of amazingly masterful, particularly in capturing the complicated nuances of life in Zimbabwe. The play is extremely well directed and produced. And the acting . . . the performances were so powerful that when I saw the young man who played Kilem wandering around HIFA I was scared of him. Scared of the ways desire for power is exerted. The play will live on beyond HIFA as the British Council is currently working out plans for another run. It’s a must see for anyone interested in the economic, political, and social dynamics of Zimbabwe.

Run-off. That is in the in-word. Confusion reigns as the people try to decide and dictate the verdict that fits their circumstances. That is to say what “they” say they voted for in the past election. Not just that, but also what they believe they deserve. And then what after THE election? What election? And then the people, the so-called masses, get the little pleasures from their already wretched existence after THE election. They know what they want. Feed the kids, send them to school. Have a job. Have access to ARVs. The other day a toothless grannie said: why this stubbornness? She should know. She is from that generation that hid the present oppressors from the other oppressors. And then what? No one knows anymore. A good man gone bad? Ask the Jesuits perhaps? A freedom fighter gone anonymous? Ask Twoboy? Once upon a time a “people person?” A toothless old man said: “Is this old man still in charge?” He spoke b’coz he knew. Questions. Questions. Questions. But when the old people start cursing, perhaps someone should pay attention.

I’m lucky enough to get copies of The Guardian Weekly, now and again. Unfortunately not on weekly basis but that’s ok. They’re given to me to read by a friend of a friend who subscribes. Reading the letters section of an old copy last night I came upon a letter that referred to Mugabe saying that he echoes the description of Macbeth towards the end of Shakespeare’s play:

“Now does he feel / His secret murders sticking on his hands / . . . / Those he commands move only in command, / Nothing in love; now does he feel his title / Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe / Upon a dwarfish thief.”

The writer of the letter reminds us that Macbeth dies unloved by anyone, even by those who gave him “mouth-honour” and “curses not loud, but deep”.

Having finally gotten so fed up with my local banking hall because it never has power, is never online, seldom has cash and always allows the police and military to jump the queue, I called their public relations department. The guy I spoke with was charming and concerned and cheerfully told me told me that I was justified in complaining because my branch is rated second worst in the entire country. Top bad spot goes to their branch in Chivhu, I was told. When I raised the issue of our army and police bullies and said that his staff need some help in telling them to wait their turn, he said that when we come “eyeball to eyeball with a soldier we crumble into jelly’ . . . quite right I said, but What Are We Going To Do About It? I could visualise him sitting at his desk in Borrowdale slowly shaking his head, as I am mine.

The likes of the Bob arse licker, Caesar Zvayi, are particularly nauseating to the likes of me who receives and processes a vast amount of human rights information from all over Zimbabwe. The reports, photographs and documentaries that Kubatana.net has published bear witness to the post election brutality that Zanu PF is responsible for. As I write this I’ve just heard that injured MDC supporters taking shelter in a church in one of Harare’s high density areas have been rounded up and taken away by Mugabe’s police force. Zvayi accuses Biti and Tsvangarai of being shrill. Whilst he’s right that there isn’t “genocide” in Zimbabwe, there is, as the BBC described it, “electoral cleansing”. We are getting reports from all corners of Zimbabwe describing horrific cases of post election violence.

Zvayi, one of the state-controlled Herald newspaper’s most poisonous pens, goes on to say

What is more Zanu-PF has been on the ground since March 29 while the MDC-T leadership have been gallivanting on a purported “diplomatic offensive” which appears to have backfired spectacularly because, apart from Levy Mwanawasa who has apparently never recovered from that horrible accident that nearly claimed his life, no other sane African leader bought Tsvangirai’s wild claims.

Certainly Zanu-PF has been on the ground since March 29 beating peoples heads in; this is Zanu-PF’s tried and tested method of election (pre and post) campaigning.

Increasingly I’ve been noticing that the term “activist” does not have a neat and simple place here in Zimbabwe. Spaces for overt, take to the streets with placards activism can end up quickly (and forcefully) closed while the term “activist” also seems to rest in a contested space. For some the term rolls off the tongue as fast and as often as a gecko’s tongue takes in insects. Many take actions as “activists” around gender, HIV/AIDS, sexuality, women’s rights, governance, and most broadly, human rights. Others see the term as not exactly their cup of tea and might feel association with the term puts them in danger. For sure, to identify as an “activist” makes one a target. The most obvious targeting carries legal and safety ramifications. Also, “activists” are targets for short-sighted criticism. Women’s rights or gender activism does not equate to man-hating. No form of activism is ever about hate. There’s risk of viewing hesitancies individuals might have to embrace “activist” as a cowardly or lazy stance; that one is leaving activism to others. But really… is that one little term and only that term what’s actually noteworthy?

Some years ago, the Nordic Africa Institute in Uppsala, Sweden undertook a project to examine how the political and economic situation in Zimbabwe is influencing the arts. Recently, Professor Patricia Alden from St. Lawrence University in New York conducted further research along these lines, and wrote an essay entitled Days of Wrath, Days of Crisis.

In both cases, the research makes evident the ways artistic endeavors serve as lenses to compel us to think about issues in new ways. Alden describes Zimbabwean writing as an “on-going power struggle with the state.” She highlights that writers tend to “eschew dealing with ‘politics’ or the government directly, while remaining fully absorbed in the task of recording the present moment, particularly the human consequences of governmental policies and the marked development of class differences among black Zimbabweans.” And I’ve also had writers tell me they feel strongly that fiction has the power to tell truths. Does this mean an evening of reading by candlelight due to power cuts involves soaking in the work of “activist” novelists? Or maybe more that dissent, protest, and transgression represent long term and varied engagements focused on pivoting the center (to borrow Chandra Mohanty’s term). Exposing truths as a way to mark that which unjustly dominates; thus, developing strategies to build peaceful and equitable futures.

I’ve been fortunate to have the opportunity to learn more about three arts-related initiatives: The Zimbabwe Poets for Human Rights forum run by CADET (Confronting Artists Development Trust), the Toyi Toyi Artz Kollektive, and Magamba!, a cultural activist network where the word is the weapon. Each of these initiatives record the present moments in powerful ways; they represent civil disobedience.

Personally, I don’t jump at the chance to call myself an activist, and I’m a bit uncomfortable with the use of war metaphors. But that’s me. What matters most is the content of engagements. Specifically, dedication to address and dismantle injustices in ways that tap into ones own strengths and as a result work to educate, probe, and break through.