A small measure of weariness and a massive dose of wariness

“So, this ‘MOU’…”, a friend who usually isn’t interested in politics asked me today, “What exactly is it?”

“I believe its an agreement which will guide the talks all the parties will be having”, I responded (hoping I was correct).

“So these talks they’ve been having up until now, they were basically all just talking about the rules of the talks they might have if they ever get to actually talking about the talks we want them to be talking about?”

“Something like that”, I replied vaguely, deliberately avoiding a forensic description of exactly what was going on because I wasn’t sure I could provide one.

“So tell me”, my friend wickedly said, “When are they going to start talking about what everyone else is talking about, and that is the fact that there is no food in the shops anymore?”

I had no response to that, as she knew I wouldn’t, and thankfully she didn’t slap me with her usual parting quip which is, “…and you wonder why I can’t be bothered with politics!”

The conversation made me think though: when the Zimbabwean crisis began several long years ago, everyone I knew talked about politics. I couldn’t be in the company of other people without them endlessly diagnosing the ins and outs of the politics of the moment. I still experience this when I am among a certain group of people – other activists for example – but my experience outside this circle is markedly different.

Social conversation now revolves around the economy: the heated discussion, excitement, exasperation and despair previously directed towards ‘politics‘ is now directed towards the value of the Zim dollar, the price of fuel, and the best place to find bread. Of course, there is a possibility that the circle of ordinary people I mix with could be a poor sample group and unusually ambivalent towards politics; however, I test my curiosity about this shift by constantly asking others if they have noticed the same thing, and the feedback in response is usually along the lines of ‘people are tired’, ‘we have too many other worries’ or ‘what’s the point?’.

This doesn’t mean that when it comes to the moment where Zimbabweans have to make the single most important political decision ever, that they have lost their belief in their ability to make a difference: they will, in that private moment, make an informed careful choice and vote for the party of their choice. We saw this on the 29th March. We can also conclude from this – especially because the choice they made in March was preceded by threats and fraught with risks (real and imagined) – that the principle of democracy matters enormously to Zimbabweans.

What’s changed? An increasing burden to survive is one thing. The discourse of survival – how to feed your children, how to pay for medication for sick relatives – will always trump detailed political analyses. The conversational shift among ordinary people from ‘politics’ to the ‘economy’ also reflects an growing awareness among ordinary people that the economy is likely to destroy the country and us with it, before the Zanu PF regime manages get around to beating and torturing every single one of us.

I think disappointment has something to do with the shift too: elections previously won, but the results ignored by the regional community; mass rallies called, but either squashed before they started or weakly supported; and of course the most crushing disappointment of all – the split in the MDC.

Then there’s fear and uncertainty: people will talk about politics more among people that they know and trust than they will in the company of acquaintances. The initial euphoria we felt when we realised we finally had a strong body of opposition to the Zanu PF madness, has been replaced by a growing horror of exactly how far they will go and what they will do to stay in power.

I can understand the shift, but I worry about its implications: in the early days there was a strong palpable sense of unity in the streets, shops and workplaces. Now, it is certainly still there, but more  amorphous  in daily life: an open show of defiance expressed in a shop queue would be greeted with a murmured cheer – not necessarily because people agree with whatever was expressed but because the person doing it was courageous, and we like to see courage.

I don’t feel the political strength of unity in the streets as keenly now as I did before. Now the impression is of a steely dogged determination of individuals trying to find a way to survive the fallout from a rapidly dying economy.

There is something about this national dogged determination to survive that feels quite alienating and isolating. Survival is routinely described in terms that are less about unity – ‘us’ – and more about the ’survival of the fittest’; or ‘each man for himself’; or ‘may the best woman win’ etc. My concern is that as our economy continues to crumble, and as each person becomes more and more absorbed in the daily detail of basic survival, that they might also become less and less engaged with the lofty politics setting down the terms and conditions of our futures.

I am also concerned that as our elected politicians face fewer and fewer demands from understandably preoccupied people, that they may become increasingly confident that they can make autonomous decisions and become forgetful of who they were when they started and why they are where they are now.

For me, democracy is about a lot of things, but one of the key factors has to be that ordinary people must believe in it (which Zimbabweans do), and also that an ordinary person has the confidence and courage to boldly insist on a government that is accountable and meets the demands – demands – of the people. I hope that  Zimbabweans will regain their personal engagement with the decisions made at higher levels. I really hope that they will seize the right that true democracy gives them, something we have never really had, and that is to collectively send a clear message to our leaders that, ‘We put you in there, and never forget we can also take you out!’

Today is an historic day, the Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) has been signed and this means that talks will be proceeding. We have seen Robert Mugabe and Morgan Tsvangirai together on TV making statements. Morgan Tsvangirai looked the more confident of the two. Robert Mugabe is never going to be the kind of guy who can wear humility well and, sure enough, he squirmed like a worm. It might just be the clip I saw but I don’t think I have ever seen Robert Mugabe look so uncomfortable before in my life: he looked to me like he was about to vomit.

It may be a historic day but there is no getting away from the simple blunt fact that today was NOT what Zimbabweans had in mind when they went to the polls on March 29th. Zimbabweans voted for Morgan Tsvangirai to be the leader, and for a completely new government. We voted the Mugabe-led regime out as much as we voted the democratic movement in.

There is also no getting away from the fact that Zimbabweans have a deep antipathy towards negotiations and promises made by the Zanu PF regime, mostly because the regime has a long history of simply ignoring every law or rule in the book, compromising agreements and not behaving like gentlemen. The fact that Mugabe has managed to steal himself a place at that table is the outcome of one massive fraud (and I hope his squirming is a sign that he knows no one buys his nonsense anymore).

As one friend said to me, “It’s a big day, sure, but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Mugabe is actually sitting at the table?! He shouldn’t be there! He should be on his way to the Hague after what he has done to us!” I can only imagine what must have gone through Morgan Tsvangirai’s mind today, when he had to sit down with the man who tried to murder him by ordering thugs to throw him out of  a ten storey window; the man conjured up a stupid treason trial which carried with it the risk of a death sentence. You  only need to browse through the comments left on this blog to get a measure of the sense of ordinary feeling about the MOU and these talks, and I think its fair to say that the comments expressed here reveal very mixed feelings indeed.

I speak for myself when I say that I look at today’s signing ceremony with a small measure of weariness and a massive dose of wariness; so I have decided to defer hope for a little while.

Deferring hope is not the same as giving up hope, but it is an acknowledgement that my full blown optimism has been compromised over the years by repeated disappointments. This is psychological self-preservation: I simply can’t find it in myself to let go and get starry-eyed and hopeful (yet) about the future that will emerge from the talks beginning with today’s MOU. Mugabe is a wily operator, and ruthless; most dangerous of all he is immensely arrogant and unapologetically fat-headed. So I am preparing myself for a long draw-out messy affair fraught with lies, broken promises, back-tracking and dirty tricks: it’s what the Zanu PF regime has conditioned me to expect.

If anything, my sense of individual isolation grew a little bit deeper today with my realisation that the ordinary people have been left at the doorstep of the big building where the future will be re-shaped. We walked our leaders to this point, we stood by them and gave them the mandate to chart the future on our behalf.

But this is the point where we have to let go now and trust that they will do the right thing, for us and for our country.

We’re standing at the foot of the steps waving a handful of our elected leaders through the door, final encouragement as they move towards talks with an individual who has an incredible capacity for violence, and no qualms about stealing and lying his way to the negotiating table. I can’t help but feel apprehensive and nervous.

I have this picture in my mind of an exhausted, ragged mixed-bag of Zimbabweans: some rich, most poor; some elderly, a few young; black and white people together; some healthy, others hurt and on crutches; all of us deeply wounded in some way by the events of the previous years. I hope this picture is in the minds of our leaders too and that it stays with them through all the negotiations.

Each of us today will be reviewing where we’ve been the last few years – the endless days of worry and anxiety; the sleepless nights filled with uncertainty and despair. Given the difficulty of the recent years, the mockery of the Zanu / Zapu agreement in the 1980s, the waves of sequential disappointments, I feel sure that each of us will be willing our leaders on with every fibre of our beings as we wave them through that door. We’ll be praying for them to be strong. I am reasonably sure that, as well as willing them on, a large number of us will also be thinking, “Please, don’t cock it up!”

This entry was posted by Hope on Monday, July 21st, 2008 at 9:33 pm. You can follow any comments on this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.