Mary Banda (aged 80) came to Zimbabwe in the 1960s from Malawi for ‘greener pastures’ with her now deceased husband. She is one of those old sweethearts who wax lyrical about the “good old days,” only too happy to reminisce about “how things were better when we were growing up,” a life story she gladly tells anyone who will listen. She says they had five children but all are deceased and she is left with grandchildren and great grandchildren all of whom live elsewhere. She stays with lodgers, and since she cannot go to the borehole by herself she has to rely on their benevolence for water. “But they also have their own needs,” she says referring to her tenants who have a young child. When water “finally arrives” she tries to stock up. She is old school and knows Zimbabwe like the back of her hand. She says she is disturbed by the water problems and “someone must have done something for the rains to have disappeared in the country.”

Simba Dube (aged 36) is a vendor at Machipisa shopping centre. There is a public toilet just behind his stall where he and a number of women sell vegetables. The toilet hasn’t been functioning for years now and is under lock and key. But he says that this has not stopped folks from shitting on the toilet’s doorstep. It is symbolic perhaps: the logic seems to be, “this is a public toilet and we will shit here even if it is locked!” There are a number of public toilets in the suburb but Dube says none are functioning. The story is the same everywhere: they are all littered with faecal matter outside their entrances. It is worse for the vendors, he says, as the convenience of a public toilet is no longer there and he has to rush home every time he wants to answer the call of nature. “It has now become like a landline (telephone). I can only answer the phone at home and nowhere else,” he quips.

Zenzo Moyo (aged 33) is a kombi driver in Bulawayo CBD. His kombi rank is at TM hyper, one of Bulawayo’s busiest commuter omnibus ranks. Drivers, touts and commuters previously used the public toilets at TM Hyper but now, because of the water shortages, the loos are under lock and key. What is now available are pay toilets, at R5 per visit. “That’s money I cannot afford,” Moyo says. “It means my tout also has to dip into the day’s takings to use the toilet and there is no telling how many times one may want to use the loo,” he says matter-of-factly. Typical of these chaps known for all sorts of adventures and misadventures, they have turned alleyways into latrines, creating an odour the Devil would be proud of. “What do they (the municipality) expect us to do? Paying to use a toilet for me is like paying to drink water,” he says, expressing a common sentiment.

Jairos Ngwenya (aged 29) is a cleaner at a cocktail bar. Folks never seem to run out of cash, they have money to burn as they patronise the joint everyday of the week and business is brisk. But this comes at a price for Ngwenya. No running water for days on end means the pub is also affected, and the laws of necessity have meant even without running water, the pub still remains open. Just because there isn’t any water doesn’t mean the patrons don’t shit, and Ngwenya knows this painful truth is a part of the job. “It’s a tough call anyway, expecting tipplers not to piss or shit,” he says rather grudgingly. He has even found human waste on urinals after some drunk defecated where others piss. “I wonder what time they do this,” Ngwenya muses. I jokingly suggest that maybe one patron stands guard by the door to stop others from entering while his friend shits by the urinals? He laughs: “That’s possible.”

Marko Phiri and Chumile Jamela writing for Kubatana.net

More stories, and photographs here

A press statement from Rooftop Promotions:

Police in Gweru Monday banned three performances of the play The Coup which is currently touring the country.

This is the second time that the law enforcement agents have banned the play. Police in Bindura were the first to place a ban on the play stating that it was “political”.

A request for clearance of the shows was sent on November 22 and when the team arrived in Gweru on Monday afternoon to prepare for the performance they were informed that the show was not cleared.

The reason given was the Police Internal Security Intelligence officer Marengere wanted to first view the recording of the play before he can issue the clearance.

Marengere wanted to perform the duty of the Censorship Board which goes through the content of any artistic work before they issue a certificate. The duty of the police is to maintain peace and order during public performances and not to censor artists.

The play was supposed to be performed at Lounge Bar on Monday at 5:30pm followed by another performance at Fairhill Farm on Tuesday at 1 pm and the last show at the Midlands Hotel at 5:30pm.

On Sunday the play was successfully performed at Amakhosi Cultural Square without any incidence. Over 70 people watched the play in Bulawayo.

“We are deeply worried by the continued suppression of artistic freedom and expression by the police who in this case are not the authority over any artistic work. The very same police force operating under the same Zimbabwean laws allowed the play to go on in Bulawayo.

It is high time that artists in this country unite and speak in unison against this unwarranted interference by the police. We will continue lobbying the Police General Headquarters to issue a generic clearance letter that covers all the provinces in the country,” said Daves Guzha

I stood for an hour on the side of Chiremba Road on Wednesday. Police pulled me over, for not displaying something, somehow. Or something was displayed incorrectly. Then again, maybe something was incorrectly displayed. Whatever. I showed my triangles. I showed my fire extinguisher. (I discovered I have a tin of beans under my seat!) I had a license plate. And license disk. And license sticker. All in order. I think it was insurance. Whatever.

“Come with me,” and he has my drivers license so I really have no choice. We cross the road to the woman constable with the fine receipt book. “$20 spot fine.”
“But I only have $4,” and I show my wallet with all my money in it, which turns out to be only $3.
“But it is a $20 spot fine.”
“Well, I only have $3, I cannot pay $20, either give me a ticket, or take me to jail.”
“It is not a criminal offense for what you have done.”
“Well, it is not a criminal offense to only have $3.” At least I hope it is not, or most Zimbabweans would be in jail.
“Park over there.” So I cross the road and park the truck over there.
“Come with me”, and we cross the road again. In an hour we cross the road four times. With puzzlement and wonder … “How can we write a receipt for $3?” “I don’t know, but $3 is all I have.” “But the spot fine is $20.” “So write me a ticket.”

And in amongst the standing around, crossing the road, picking my nose and the same questions and same answers to the same person, different persons, random persons, and more, I watch plenty of folded and crumpled and filthy (toll gate special) bills be passed from ‘offenders’ (who have committed the offence of driving down Chiremba Road) to ‘enforcers’, and not many receipts being issued. Eventually, “you can go”, but I can’t really, as they still have my license, and once we find whose hand it is in, there is the barrage of the same questions and answers over and over again – “$20″, “only got $3″, “can’t write receipt of $3″, and I finally get my driver’s license and drive off.

So, what has happened here?

Obviously, if I had handed over my remaining $3 (lunch money!) for a receipt-less ‘fine’ I could have gone much sooner, and we all could have ridden the corruption gravy train much faster. With whatever my offence was completely un-corrected.

And what are the ZRP, the guardians of Law and Order in Zimbabwe, doing for the economy of Zimbabwe? They are making it ‘work’ in their own personal regard. In terms of the national fiscus, even if I had paid $20, and received a receipt, how much difference would that have made towards the justice system, the attorney general, keeping dangerous vehicles off the road, making Zimbabwe a safer and better place for us all to live in? And how many hours were spent – and productivity lost – by everyone I watched processing receipt-less fines. How much did those costs add to the underground economy (since there are no receipts, they cannot be accounted for in the taxed economy), swelling it and making it bigger?

Zimbabwe is to co-host next year, with Zambia, a big, international tourism event. How far does this attitude from the police (and all the ruling, and former ruling, apparatus) percolate through the country? How many ‘visitors’ will get this treatment?

But it is that attitude – I have power, you have money, and I want your money (without earning it) – that is at fault. This attitude needs to be changed if we are to get ahead.

A man walked into my office the other day. I know him, wasn’t like he’s a stranger or anything. He started talking to me, then stopped, looked around the office, eyes scanning the walls, and asked me if it was safe. Safe presumably from bugs, the recording kind. I said I didn’t know. What else could I say? I’m reminded of a visit from an American friend a few years ago and every time she asked my opinion on something situational, I’d say “it depends”. One thing you can be certain of in Zimbabwe is unpredictability. Very little is certain. You think you’re going to be arrested, and someone else is. You think you’re not going to get funding, and you do. You think the power will come back on again at 8, and it doesn’t. Many of us have normalised this state of uncertainty and we get on.

As the race to the 2013 elections gathers momentum in Zimbabwe many politicians still shy away from, and regard corruption as a sensitive issue. As sensitive as it can be I believe the electorate is shortchanged when people they elect into Parliament as legislators become corrupt themselves. The abuse of the Community Development Fund by some legislators is an example of the appalling level of corruption in the country.

Being ranked number 163 out of the 174 countries that took part in the 2012 Corruption Perceptions Index should not come as a surprise because corruption in Zimbabwe has become the norm. Zimbabwe is ranked among countries like Somalia and Afghanistan with collapsed government systems.

According to the survey, “Governments need to integrate anti-corruption actions into all aspects of decision-making. They must prioritise better rules on lobbying and political financing, make public spending and contracting more transparent, and make public bodies more accountable”.