Yesterday I was moved and encouraged by Bev Clark’s call to Act. Organize. Assemble. Oppose. Resist. And I thought I’d share a suggestion for Zimbos (as they call us out there) to stand unified toward a common cause for once.

What’s gotten me going is how the cell phone network providers continue to unapologetically rip us off! How do they justify tariff increases when I receive urgent messages one hour late, or spend the whole day without network (and the network provider does not find it necessary to apologize!)? Also, I make a 20 second call, and I get charged for a full minute! What sheer daylight robbery! WE WANT CALLS CHARGED BY THE SECOND. With inter-network calls on Net One now costing $345 per minute (up from $90), and intra-network calls from Net One to both Econet and Telecel costing $450 (up from $117), has anyone noticed improved service, or has anyone yet managed to make a call and have it go through first time rather than after at least eight attempts during ‘peak period’?

I especially liked Bev’s term: ‘non-compliance‘ rather than engaging in direct action or demonstrations. You will probably agree with me that Zimbabweans have an unparalleled complacency that borders on the irritating. I do not excuse myself from the lot. I figured that since we continue to suffer in silence, passively, we might as well adapt this as a strength: passive resistance. Let’s simply switch off our cell phones. Even if we do this for just an hour we can inflict major losses on the network providers. And at the same time remind them that they’re in business because of us – their customers.

The Lebanese did it, as did Nigeria. I came across an article about a Nigerian consumer boycott written by Jonathan Elendu. Part of it reads

On September 19, 2003, Nigerians were supposed to turn off their cell phones to protest high fees and other problems resulting from using mobile phone service in Africa’s largest and maybe, richest country. The strike was called by the National Association of Telecom Consumers (NATCOM) a consumer advocacy group formed by frustrated cell phone subscribers in Nigeria.

In Beirut, Lebanon, they did it on July 15 of the year 2004 I think. The nation’s consumer union asked everyone to keep their phones off for at least 24 hours to protest the astronomical prices charged by network providers. Lebanon, you see, is a nation of cell phone addicts, and Zimbabwe is slowly but surely becoming that. The people who joined the boycott not only left an indelible mark, but their action prompted the lowering of tariffs, for a short while at least. A sign that the boycott captured the attention of some Lebanese was illustrated by a joke that circulated Lebanese society, about Abou Abed and Abou Staif two men living in Beirut. The two decided to join the boycott, communicating by carrier pigeon all day. But when a pigeon arrived with a blank piece of paper Abou Abed was stumped and finally in frustration used his cell to call Abou Staif. “You Idiot,” Abou Staif says. “That’s a missed call.”

Ha ha ha! But our situation in Zimbabwe is not funny. Why don’t we Zimbabweans recognize the power of collective action and do the same? This would be our chance to show these swindlers who the boss is. A successful cell phone boycott would not only keep thousands of dollars in our pockets, but will also represent a first-of-its-kind attempt at broad civic action to put pressure on the network providers.

Another positive aspect of a boycott – we won’t be charged under POSA for a public demo. Neither will anyone hold us accountable for having switched our phones off! And even if they don’t lower tariffs; I’d still be proud of myself. Wouldn’t you?

Personally I don’t think that the Mugabe regime needs to have its partisan police force in permanent riot gear and on “high alert” to suppress the deluge of demonstrations that they imagine are about to engulf Zimbabwe. When we take a moment and actually look at, and analyse the number and type of demonstrations that take place in Zimbabwe, its clear that the Mugabe regime has very little to worry about.

The National Constitutional Assembly (NCA) rolls out their usual demonstrator crowd every two weeks. And similarly if you scratch the surface of any civic organization or pressure group in Zimbabwe you’ll find that they can’t mobilize their constituencies. For the last few years pro-democracy leaders have indulged in the very same behaviour that they condemn the Mugabe regime for. That is, they view the Zimbabwean people as an amorphous group to manoeuvre like chess pieces, with scant regard for consultation or any in-depth community based organizing.

The battle for freedom in Zimbabwe will not be won on the streets, unless all active civic organizations can actually publicly mobilize their constituencies. And only if actions like demonstrations are true representations of people’s discontent, and not stage-managed NGO activity. NCA-type demonstrations are relatively easy to pull-off, while working at grassroots level to explain to ordinary Zimbabweans why they need to swell numbers in the streets, is the hard part.

Let’s have a look at what has been most effective in the last month or so. It’s been the tactic of non-compliance (strikes) rather than direct action (demonstrations). Demonstrations could be more potent but only if pressure groups engage a strategy of rolling actions so that the regime’s police force and their resources are stretched to the limit.

It has also been interesting to note that Zimbabwe is consistently plagued by the politics of “special interests” rather than realizing that we are all inter-connected and that if we don’t somehow act in concert, then it’s simply a matter of time before we all collapse.

Take the doctors and teachers strike for example. Whilst their action can be viewed as a success, for how long will their pay rise keep inflation at bay? Doctors and teachers can put a bit more food on their table but what of the multitudes of others who can’t? The “I’m alright Jack” Zimbabwean condition and our lack of unified action are central to our oppression. Yip, not many of us want to go anywhere near acknowledging that we, as well as Mugabe, are part of the problem.

What do we need to do? We need each sector to engage in sustained non-compliance and withdraw their support in propping up the dictatorship. We need employers and workers to enter respectful contracts in the knowledge that mass non-compliance is essential to our long term survival knowing full well that in the short term, all of our difficulties will increase. We need the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) to unite and for their hierarchy to start moving from door to door, shopping centre to shopping centre and to organize as many rallies in defiance of banning orders as they can.

And for those of us sitting behind our computers, email, newspapers and in the comfort of our homes, as Tony Kushner said in his short essay, Despair is a lie we tell ourselves

“we have to do it by showing up places, our bodies in places, our bodies at meetings and demos and rallies and leafleting corners. Because this is a moment in history that needs us to begin, each of us every day at her or his own pace, slowly and surely rediscovering how to be politically active, how to organize our disparate energies into effective group action – and I choose to believe we will do what is required. Act. Organize. Assemble. Oppose. Resist. Find a place a cause a group a friend and start, today, now now now, continue continue continue.”

“Thousand; thousand kusvika Albion, thousand chete vabereki.” Gotten used to this daily chant by the ‘sliding door operators‘ a.k.a hwindis at Avondale Shopping Centre, I board the omnibus. I unfortunately get the last space available; you know that dreaded last corner of a seat just by the door, the one where the hwindi unceremoniously leans over you. Literally hunkers down on you. I brace myself. Predictably, the moment the door closes, a very strong whiff of stale sweat wafts through the air, and I find my face almost in his armpit – arrgh! This is 7 o’clock in the morning.

The instruction follows that passengers pay their fare, and another distinct smell – halitosis – joins its counterpart in the air around me. I mentally say to myself; there ought to be a law against this, whindis ought to maintain maximum personal health standards given the amount of interpersonal relation they have with passengers.

To make matters worse, I notice that as he busily collects his dues, his crotch is unashamedly settled on my left knee. There is an unusual amount of warmth there and I think to myself, does he honestly not feel that his privies are somewhere out of bounds? To avoid unnecessary talk, I look directly in his face, hoping he’d figure out he is harassing me. Instead, the young fellow in a thick voice commands me to give him my fare. And his foul breath hits me squarely in the face this time.

I obediently but silently take out my one thousand dollars, only to have it thrust back in my face. You may want to refer to my first sentence to understand. Apparently, the fare is now one thousand five hundred. Sound familiar? We never go for longer than three weeks with the same fare. And I think to myself, with a political and economic system gone to the rabid dogs, its no surprise that all checking systems collapse. The Ministry of Transport has no idea and probably doesn’t care about what is going on with passengers. No one seems to want to be responsible for handling and controlling transport operators.

As I am about to again silently and obediently take out another note, one lady in the back speaks out admonishing whindis in general for raising their fares willy-nilly and duping passengers. A debate ensues and tempers rise, and for a moment my five hundred is forgotten. Avondale residents are not troublesome folk I notice. I look around and see those who are not participating in this discussion. They are not bothered, all they want to do is to get to work, whatever it takes.

Completely forgotten, I jump off at Park Lane and say to myself, although none of this is gonna change in a very long time, at least today I saved five hundred.