By Maynard Manyowa
People love to say talk is cheap. Growing up in Zimbabwe nothing could have been further than the truth. Among ordinary people, speech was an expensive commodity whose price was often life.
It was a strange but devious society where ‘the man’ repressed and compelled speech simultaneously. That ability to maintain silence yet determine dialogue meant false narratives could be peddled without challenge.
As recently as 10 weeks ago, it was still considered a death wish to as much as offer a critical opinion on Zimbabwe’s socio-economic crisis and political tyranny.
For as long as i can remember, nearly each time my articles were published in local or international press, my social media inbox would be flooded by as many as several hundred direct messages offering support, encouragement, opinions and even genuine concerns about my safety.
Its a norm that became a rule. Expressing political opinion was considered a hazard.
Those fears were real and not imagined. A lot of Zimbabweans old enough to drink a beer today were of age when Zanu PF launched a massive crackdown on defenseless citizens in 2008.
Hundreds were killed, maimed, raped, and amputated. Thousands were kidnapped and force marched to youth militia bases and forced to recite Zanu slogans and liberation war songs. Millions fled into neighboring South Africa and Botswana.
So irrational was the crackdown that at one point it was unilaterally declared that anyone caught or heard “talking about” or using the words “elections” and “results” in the same sentence was to arbitrarily arrested and detained till kingdom come!
It was a very dark and unpleasant time. The vibrant streets of Harare quickly turned dull and were deserted at speed. You would barely see anyone moving about. Perhaps an occasional truck full of intoxicated members of the youth militia singing war-time jingles.
Suspected members of the opposition were beaten to a pulp, and often in front police as well. Compelled speech became a lifesaving tool. Reciting a war time slogan on request was often the ticket to continued life.
The country was pummeled into deathly silence.
Many years before this, in the year 2000, when I was about 10, Zimbabwe had held a constitutional referendum under less gruesome but equally scary circumstances. A few years later, in 2002, the nation held Presidential elections.
Robert Mugabe lost the elections, but still declared winner. South Africa, which led the observer mission refused to release its official report for over 10 years until a ruling at the Constitutional Court revealed the damning facts. Zanu PF had lost the election, then rigged it to keep Mugabe in power.
I was relatively young at the time, but can vividly recall commonly shared stories about how spies who were said to stand by the walls and windows of people’s houses, listening to their conversations.
In our house, any political comments were an early ticket to bed, and probably a verbal lashing.
The reason I went to through this detail was to carefully illustrate the dynamic of muting civilian speech. Wether real or imagined, political matters were discouraged matters of dialogue, even between family members.
Civilian discussion of topical government matters was muted. Yet, at their convenience, if you encountered the youth militia, failing to recite a liberation war jingle, or a Zanu PF slogan could easily translate into a broken jaw.
In making criticism private, the regime muted civil protest, yet the determined dialogue by making it a life necessity to be well versed in Zanu PF lingo.
The country’s rulers did not just repress speech; they recreated it to serve the present. They knew that, in an oppressive state, change often starts with a complaint.
What they did not factor in though is that silence is natural, and repression inspires protest.
That game changing moment arrived months ago when a broken citizen, buoyed by his state induced struggles to raise school fees for his children recorded a video and posted it on Facebook. In the touching video clip, he lamented the perversion of the national flag, whose meaning has gone sideways, and irony of celebrating independence day when it does not evoke the patriotic fondness is is due.
It was such an easy story to relate to. The video went viral, all across the world. It inspired a sense of combined unity among the citizens who for decades have never shared political opinion. Everyone could relate to it. Zimbabweans had one story, one struggle, and flag, so long a symbol of Zanu PF liberation folklore was reclaimed by citizens who share a true spirit of patriotism, not patronage politics.
For his actions, Evan Mawarire earned himself death threats, and warnings of imprisonment on charges “equal” to treason. But that was rather late. Each time the video was shared, it allowed another voice be free. For the repressive state, it was now a matter of closing the door on bolted horse.
Since then citizens have a voice, and it is loud. The leadership is rattled, confused and in enchanted land. Deep down they know the power of a speaking civil movement.
They tried dismissing it as #HashTag activism, only to figure the movement had grown too big – impossible to downplay until it went away. A counter version flopped. Censorship threats and a promise to ban Social Media followed. That only led to increased noise!
Backed by the power of state security machinery, government leaders have even called the bluff of social media movements. Daring #OnlineAvctivists to translate their #Hashtags into social action!
If it was a gamble, it backfired for them. Social action became visible on the streets.
They have since attempted to arrest and detain some of the movements in an effort to send a clear message. But that has only led to more activism.
While they were busy arresting #OccupyAfricaUnitySquareMovement, a new one, #Tajamuka was sensitizing bankers about the real cause of the cash crisis. They arrested them too. Then pop came #Asijiki!
Zanu PF faces a new vice it has feared for long, a talking citizen who asks questions. Its unfamiliar territory for them. They can’t arrest them all so they now have to answer their questions. Which is new for them. They are being told No. This frustrates them.
The Central Bank Governor was among the first few to find the authoritarian declare and decree approach of governance in tatters. His bond notes pronouncement has been met with serious resistance. Minister of Education, Lazarus Dokora earned himself a demonstration after murmurs of an intention to ban Christianity and rumours of introducing uniforms for teachers.
Both Mangundya and Dokora have reacted by doing some ‘u-turns’, even if it is only for now. Tafadzwa Musarara, was another who found propaganda and bullying to be ineffective when the opponents are a speaking society.
It puts things into perspective. Given the repression of the past, it does make you appreciate among many, the bravery of Evan Mawarire and #ThisFlag.
Where few had dared speak, he took a risk, appreciating that it would be greedy to be scared to die today, yet guarantee the death of your children tomorrow. The results are promising and pleasing.
From the lens of my perspective, i see myself as a young man. I am a father of 2 children. A little boy and his beautiful little sister.
Wherever they maybe at a time, the greatest legacy i have given them, is their roots and heritage to Zimbabwe.
Regardless of where they were born, the air they breathe, and wherever they may end up in their quest for fulfillment, their roots lead back to Mazviwa communal lands, where their Grandfather, Silinganiso Chabwanda, a hero of the liberation struggle, lies buried.
Their roots will forever be deeply entrenched under the tombstones of Ellen Fiya Manyowa and Chinyama Kloepas Manyowa, their Great Grandparents, and heroes of their father.
This is a reality no individual circumstance can change or separate. It is a reality that all citizens of Zimbabwe must protect.
If not, our history will be re-written again, replaced by partial truths and outright lies. As the past has shown us, when our speech is taken away, we lose our past, our present and future.
Evan Mawarire deserves a thank you, for taking a risk which has been known to materialize, for restoring the real historical narrative that says Zimbabwe belongs to us, for restoring our children’s heritage, for insisting leaders are held to account, but for being a father to his children, my children, our children, and even our current leader’s children.
- Maynard Manyowa is a political commentator, social commentator and contributing editor of Khuluma Afrika – a budding non-partisan center for analysis and investigative journalism
