out beyond ideas of right doing and wrong doing
there is a field
I’ll meet you there
rumi

Last week the Tree of Life held workshops in the granite rocks of Mutoko
sheltering from the October heat under Mahatcha trees
as they dropped their ripening fruit into the circles

30 people had walked from their homes 1 to 2 hours away
all from the same community
headmen, councillors, community leaders and activists
victims and the perpetrators together in the same circle

victims who had become perpetrators
and perpetrators who had become victims
brother against brother
father against son

a community who have been carrying the brunt of political conflict and social upheaval in the centre of their families

but in this place
where they told their stories
they began to speak of something different
of their need to stop the violence
and to reconstruct their lives
to see beyond fear
into the eyes of their brother, neighbour, friend
and recognise that peace was more important

(there was even the space for humour
as one man said to the person who had burnt his house and stolen his chicken.
“the house I can understand – but my hen?
did you think she had a vote?”)

and when the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about
rumi

rustle of dry wind in dry grass,
sucking moisture from every pore
heating the earth to a dry crust

it is the beginning of the hot dry season
the time of flowering
of insects awakening
and bees collecting
and a bird sipping nectar held in a scarlet petal

. . . no rain for 2 months still

what trust is it then
the masasas lend to the future
flushing in heart-stopping gold,
painting crimson,
grey-granite-kopjes
what source of water
invisible beneath the earth
do their searching roots touch
to feed these new shining leaves

overhead the skies are broken by fighter planes
demonstrating the power of dictators
to the crowds at the agricultural show
- where the farmers are absent
- and the farms are abandoned
and the empty words of politicians hang heavy in the air

out there,
today,
on some granite kopje
a group of councillors from both parties
share their stories of hurt and shame
walking the path where light and shadow meet
interchange
interact
interconnect

today
out there on some granite kopje
courageous people explore the possibility
of a new way of being
of seeing
of hope

of trusting the future
and sending roots down in search
of invisible deep water

walking the dry earth
trusting the journey

our heads and shoulders are decorated with flecks of gold
flurries of falling jacaranda leaves
colouring our world
as we sit in the circle

touching the warming earth beneath my feet
it has been too long since I have felt the ground
the crackling dry leaves
the warming round rocks

weavers are already beginning their nests
intricate works of art
Celtic knots
no beginning
no end

and the web weaves around us
threads of light
reaching from across the planet
touching ground
as Zimbabweans begin this journey of self reliance
‘what can I contribute?’
‘where do we connect?’
General invites the other communities
to his organic gardening workshop in Kuwadzana
Chikukwa comes to Epworth
to speak of community building
counsellors and therapists and small organisations
begin to connect
‘what have we got to share?’

bronze mannekins on dry branches
picking up the courage
to come to the seed

warm earth
cold wind
golden flecks

at 1 am in the morning Yemmerai asked to be taken to the clinic
she alone was let through locked gates by the security guard
at 5.30 am she had her baby boy – Tinashe (we are blessed by God)
at 2 pm she walked up the drive all smiles
and by 5.30 pm she had done her family’s washing

It is the dry season
the time of seed bearing
when pod-laden trees
rustle in cold northern winds
singing the potential of new life
to the clear blue winter skies

Now is the time to call back the sun

The tree of life team were invited to a far corner on the eastern border mountains of Zimbabwe
where a chief and the people of his clan live on the steep sides of a fertile valley
the mountain that holds the graves of 4 generations of chiefs
the people of the Flying Ant totem
Chikukwa

The place of an ancient mountain crossing
a path where ‘one-by-one’
people journey back and forth to Mozambique
- for ancient paths pay little respect to political boundaries.

Over the last 25 years a shift of energy has entered this valley
the abundant water held in the body of the mountain
has been channelled to each thatched homestead
and swathes built along contours, and permaculture, and rotation farming and tree planting
has restored the land
they are surrounded by sugar cane and bananas and rape and lettuce of every kind and beans and peas and pawpaws and tomatoes and sweet potatoes and maize and herbs of every kind

They have looked at conflict resolution
and HIV/AIDS
The responsibility of sharing
and the sharing of responsibility
and of community caring for orphans and elders
They have looked at culture and spirit and meditation
and called forth the essence  that is needed to hold them in place
with dignity
A place where peace is being made with land
and between the 6000 people who live there

We travelled with representatives from the two urban communities
Epworth and Whitecliff – who have been battered and beaten
grass roots to grass roots
a sharing of what life has been
and what life can be

We did the Tree of Life circles with community
and they spoke of old unspoken wounds from their childhoods
of old hurts and the need to repair damage in their families
“I never thought I could tell of happened to me when I was a child”
one elderly woman said
“I thought I would be a laughing stock
but now I have said it, and I was heard, and I am free of that old pain”

The old man
bent knees,
clouded wise eyes
brother of the chief who has been the leader of the people
takes the stone in the circle
“the lessons you have brought us will stay in our hearts
our people will grow”

And the lessons of these remote people
of their courage, and openness, and their work towards peace and their love of their land
are lessons that will stay in our hearts

The seeds are sown
may they grow.

On Friday the Tree of Life team sat with parents from Epworth and Whitecliffe communities and heard about their fears  for their children.

This time last year
when the youth militia rampaged through their neighbourhoods in ‘preparation’ for the elections
the children went through the most terrifying ordeals one can imagine.
They were taken to the militia bases,
they watched their mothers being raped,
their fathers beaten and tortured
and they were beaten and raped themselves
they watched their houses being burned down
and their parents killed

the fabric of their lives destroyed

and a year later they still live in the ashes
with old memories haunting their dreams

Nothing has been done for the children

‘They visited hell’ said one mother who had her 8 year old son taken for 3 months
‘and they still live in fear – for it has not gone away
they are still training the militia for the next elections’

And then we began speaking of the healing
and of Chiyedza offering her skills in drama and counselling
to go out to the communities to help teach new ways of working
We heard people offer their small houses as venues
and their time to learn techniques of counselling
These people who have been stripped of their livelihoods
volunteering to help protect the orphans
and repair the damage
what little they had – they were prepared to share.

‘For these children are the parents of the new generations’ they said

Utterly shaken we came out of the meeting
to the news that the years funding we had asked for
had been reduced to a bridging loan for 3 months

Throughout civic society
those groups who, on meagre budgets, have helped with the healing
and with gathering the orphans
the groups that help hold the dignity of the nation
are struggling to survive

“there is no money for Zimbabwe (global economic crisis/ unstable government/uncertainty/hold up in funding/etc.) sorry for that”

so we have to wait
wait for the children
a year
a lifetime

It is mid-winter
the leaves are falling
the grass is dry
beige-gold world  lit by the first crimson lucky bean trees
and filled with butterflies