Remain calm
On Thursday I spent time with an amazing woman working to expose the brutality of the Mugabe regime. She said to me that she thinks her work doesn’t make a blind bit of difference. It does.
Last night I was with one of my closest comrades who was miserable because we’re not doing enough to draw attention to the continued, unacceptable detention of 14 Women of Zimbabwe Arise (WOZA) activists. We aren’t.
On Friday I dropped two increasingly frail Zimbabweans off at the airport. I was tightly embraced and told to be careful in the next few weeks. On the way back into town I encountered a truck load of militant youths in Zanu PF t-shirts chanting and sloganeering. I tried not to feel afraid. I was.
Yesterday I thought I’d Do Some Shopping before the money I had in the bank evaporated care of Mugabe’s record inflation. I trolleyed up and got to the till and the power went. With a shrug I bought the most important item with the small amount of cash I had on me. Anyone for white bread rolls?
Today I tried shopping, again. This time the power held good but paying for my trolley of goods took longer than selecting them. My bank card had to be swiped 20 times to process the payment. That’s a purchase of about US$50. Remain calm I said to myself. I did.