I have a good friend who is from Zimbabwe. Whenever we talk about the country, her eyes seem to almost well up with tears and she so clearly misses the land of her birth, a land she describes as so beautiful, so bountiful. She will likely never return home - the home she knew barely seems to exist now. With inflation running at (at least) 2.3 million per cent, a cholera epidemic growing daily, dictatorial oppression and unemployment running at 80% - the country seems to be transformed from pearl into peril. The Archbishop Desmond Tutu has described this transformation as from “bread basket” to “basket case”.

The situation is akin to a war of terror being waged upon a people, a war of callous indifference and cruelty, a war of one man: Robert Mugabe. He was once considered a hero of the resistance against the British and a freedom fighter festooned with accolades of adoration and respect. Now he is merely one in a long line of wicked men (not particularly unique to Africa) who cast a shadow far greater than they should ever be allowed to.

Mugabe has apparently compared himself to Adolf Hitler in the past. His dinky little moustache appears to confirm this personal historical affectation. He has ground this proud nation of Zimbabwe into dust under his expensive European shoes. His followers and soldiers have raped and murdered in his name. There’s not much to say (when there is so obviously so very much to be said) about such evil and wickedness, about one man’s desire to force a country to conform to his will, to suffer under the aspiration of his outrageous vanity and narcissistic rage.

One day he will be gone (if he is not assassinated) by natural means - death or incapacity to rule through old age. My fear is that some other despot will be waiting in the wings to don Mugabe’s silk robes of opulent wickedness and to continue to squeeze whatever blood out of what is left after Mugabe’s reign of terror over Zimbabwe.

The name “Zimbabwe” is an abbreviation of “Zimbadzemabwe” - which means “Houses of Stones” and is a reference to the ancestors of modern Zimbabwe who once built and lived in houses made of stones. There are fabulous walls and towers once constructed in Zimbabwe’s deep past, magnificent edifices of stone which remain as celebration of a culture, a time and a people. While I do not doubt the resilience, intelligence and forbearance of the people of Zimbabwe, it seems that there may be a time coming for Zimbabwe when the Houses of Stones are all that remain.

This blog post also appears here on the group blog Issues Beyond Borders.
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Times Online: The extent of the suffering in Zimbabwe ‘has reached Auschwitz proportions’.