Cathy Buckle, in her weekly writing about life in Zimbabwe, says it like it is.

In the three weeks since a power sharing deal was signed between the winners and losers of Zimbabwe’s election, nothing has happened except arguments. So many of us had such high hopes but these are fading fast.

There is no sign of leadership, either from the old or the new, and all we hear is bickering and whining about wanting more mediation when all we really need is action. No one knows who is in charge, or who is going to be in charge of what and while this vacuum continues we have virtually turned into a gangster state.

The walls are falling down around us very fast now and still we baby-cry about mediators. Shame on us.

Yesterday after work I was walking down Central Avenue on my way home. It was after five and I was approaching the new government complex opposite the post office when something very peculiar happened. Everyone who was directly in front of the government complex within about a 15 metre radius suddenly stopped and froze in their various postures of intended motion. I approached the small crowd cautiously, feeling sure that something occult had just happened when a policeman whom I hadn’t noticed suddenly ordered me to stop also. Before I could protest or even ask what was going on, a group of three men were also ordered to stop dead in their tracks. One of them quickly protested saying he was late for something but the police officer just gave him a blank stare and repeated his order. I’m not sure if the order also meant no talking because everyone who stood there seemed to be tongue-tied. All kinds of questions were spinning in my head as I wondered if possibly I was the only one who didn’t know what the hell was going down.

Was Mugabe in the vicinity or something? But then again only cars stop for the illustrious presidential motorcade, not people. Or was this going to be another random forex check? God help me but Gono said it was okay to buy with it so it must also be okay to actually possess it. Last time I was a victim of forex random checks was when I moved to Harare a few years ago and didn’t know that milling around Ximex Mall simply made one a suspected forex dealer. I remember vividly how policemen appeared from nowhere and randomly grabbed people, including myself, and threw us into their trucks to take us to the charge office for a random search. It was dangerous then to be caught with certain amounts of forex, lucky for me I had none.

The minute long wait in front of the government complex seemed like ages. Only when the policeman himself started walking did everyone else shake out of his or her hypnotic state. I was determined to know what it had been all about so I followed the police officer and asked. He rudely asked me if I didn’t know that when the Zimbabwe flag is being taken down everyone stops as a sign of respect and patriotism. All the time I’ve stayed in Harare I’ve never noticed the flag that hangs to the left of the new government complex entrance. Last time I stopped for the flag was back in high school at assembly when we sang the national anthem while it was being hoisted. Besides, I didn’t know one also stops for it when it’s being taken down, let alone in the middle of a busy city pavement. But in Zimbabwe ignorance is no excuse. Ask those whose cars have dared malfunction in front of State House and they will tell you the dire consequences of such an unfortunate thing happening to you. Or try taking pictures or even pointing towards State House and the soldiers will give you the beating of your life.

As I walked away I had this sickening empty feeling you get when you’ve just been forced to do something you wouldn’t ordinarily do from free will and volition. I tried to imagine what I would have done had I known what was going on. Would I have resisted and what would the police officer have done to me? That bit is not hard to imagine.

Is this how patriotism works in Zimbabwe; being made to stop dead in your tracks in respect of the flag even though you don’t feel it deep inside?  I understand patriotism to be the love and loyalty one feels for one’s country and a patriot is someone who supports and is prepared to serve her country. I love this country and some of its people but not its government. The current government doesn’t love me enough to put in place workable policies and mechanisms to make life bearable so why should I love them?

Does symbolic demonstration of patriotism actually define its existence? If I hadn’t stopped for the flag would that have made me less of a patriot? For whom are these little things intended, because the ordinary person who is hungry from lack of food and tired from waiting in long queues couldn’t give a rat’s behind what patriotism means.

Since Monday, queues that are miles long
have filled the streets outside banks
waiting to draw the maximum allowed – equivalent to US$2 per day

People are unable to buy food
or to get to their jobs or their rural homes

3 million Zimbabweans
- families that were once self sufficient robust farmers
now stand on the edge of starvation

these are our people
skilled and powerful
gentle and loving and patient and resourceful beyond belief
brought to their knees

. . . and still they battle for power at the top

from in here,
we begin to understand
that this is not just about saving lives
- for we may not be able to do that

in the last 2 weeks I have sat in circles and listened to stories
from faces grey and worn and desperate
for their parents
and wives and children
out in the rural homes without food
‘eating fruit and roots of indigenous trees’
‘what will become of them?’
‘we have no news’

the evidence is already before us
as we begin to hear of the deaths

we are outside the limits of our power to help

what is it that we are able to learn at this time?
apart from bearing witness
to how amazing we are
as we negotiate this space
with dignity and respect
and wait for our voice to be heard
above the clamour for power and wealth

waiting to emerge from old wounds
wearing new wings of hope

An underground movement that calls itself People to People distributed, or rather littered, Harare’s streets with flyers over the weekend carrying a message rebuking the Reserve Bank Governor for printing substandard bank notes in the form of the new $20 000. Aside from detailing how the $20 000 note has no tight security features and is probably being replicated, the flyers also mention that some shops and vendors are not accepting this note as legal tender. The flyer also demands reasonable withdrawal limits and reasonable policies to curb inflation.

I started hearing complaints about the $20 000 note last week and indeed, it is of poor quality and appears to have been printed on something like bond paper. It also doesn’t have raised font or the silver security strip and watermark that have been the usual security features. But until today it has been possible to transact with it. First it was the hwindis (conductors). They are no longer considering the $20 000 note as legal tender. Unfortunately for them a lot of us had that note and we’d gone such a distance that either dropping us all off or taking us all back to the taxi rank would have been a loss either way. The hwindi eventually capitulated on taking the notes muttering under his breath that as soon as he can he will deposit the money in a bank.

While it is commendable citizen activism the flyers may spark alarm and despondency. The flyers were strewn all over the city from taxi ranks to shopping centres such that those who initially hadn’t closely analyzed the $20 000 note are all going to start shunning it. Now this is a disaster because that’s what the banks are churning out and one cannot exactly consider the option of re-depositing because of the hassle getting it in the first place and there is no guarantee of getting 10s next time. In any case, who wants to deal with tellers who are always on go slow and probably orchestrate the formation of the long bank queues in order to work overtime to reap the benefits?

When bearer cheques were first introduced in 2003 people blasted them for their insulting poor quality and very existence but not to the extent of actually not recognizing them as legal tender. If the people lose faith in the national currency, it spells disaster. One of the fundamental principles of a good economy is that the people have confidence in it. Most Zimbabweans know the security features of the US dollar better than their own money. In fact, they can tell a fake from a real one and actually know which year that country printed new notes.

It is nauseating to think that some people can just play games with a country’s whole economy and get away with it. What will it take for the man who sits at the helm of our central bank to admit failure and resign?

It really is a shame. The Shona version of the People to People flyer concludes by saying: Nderipi zita idzva reBhanga guru renyika? Rinonzi Zeroes Acre! Loosely translated: What is the new name for country’s central bank? It is called the Zeroes Acre! Indeed.

Without hope life has no meaning or point. Hope is now Zimbabweans most important positive attitude, the basis for all the others. We hope for a political settlement and agreement of some sort from these two major political parties.

Wherever you are, be it in the bus, internet café, beer hall, church, office, or shop people are hoping to see food and bread back on the table again, hoping for the best. And hoping for a better Zimbabwe!

No one expects these talks of power-sharing and cabinet posts to fail. People all around are struggling to make ends meet. But people are still chatting, sharing, assisting and encouraging each other to be stronger hoping that this political impasse is a passing phase.

This time its the whole nation in crisis and not only  individuals like the days of Murambatsvina. Together we will conquer and together we will win, we must rally under the spirit of oneness.

I was walking one morning, when it started to rain. I recall feeling a raindrop, and I considered whether I had been the first to feel the initial one or had the privilege been given to someone else. Every storm must begin with a single drop of rain. And so it is with every worthwhile movement . . . it begins with an idea that is too simple to be taken seriously . . . and then comes the storm.
~ Marco Caceres