Zimbabwe T he day after my arrival in Harare I attended
Evensong at St Mary Magdalene’s Anglican church. The congregation was in a state of shock. Almost every church in Harare had been raided by riot police that morning. In some cases the police blocked worshippers from entering as they arrived, beating up those who tried to object. In other cases the police only made their appearance once the service had already begun. At St Francis Waterfalls the police charged into the church and dragged people from the communion rail as they took the Eucharist, reportedly beating at least one woman senseless. Robert Mugabe accuses the churches of consorting with the opposition Movement for Democratic Change.
The problem is inflamed by the fact that there are two bishops of Harare. Bishop Kunonga is a strong supporter of Mugabe, and converted his diocese into the religious wing of the ruling party. Though finally excommunicated, he has refused to stand down. He continues to occupy Harare Cathedral, where he sleeps, eats and conducts services for Zanu PF supporters. He has stolen most of the assets and investments belonging to the cathedral. He has also declared his independence from the Anglican province of central Africa — amid denunciations that it supports gays — and has so far ordained a further 30 priests.
On Tuesday I had breakfast with the real bishop of Harare, Sebastian Bakare, a heroic and saintly man. Bishop Sebastian told me that Kunonga is spreading the word that, along with Gordon Brown, he is seeking to bring down the government: ‘An undersecretary came to see me saying that he understood that I was organising a coup. I told him that really I didn’t know that I had the power. Nor did I have access to Gordon Brown.’ Sebastian told me that he ‘takes calls saying, “We are going to fix you.” When I say, “Who are you?” they refuse to say.’ He told me that ‘I am afraid of getting knocked down by a lorry. I am very careful.’ Then he got into his battered old car to drive across Harare and take down fresh accounts of how his parishioners had been attacked so that he could send a report to Lambeth Palace.
There are literally millions of people in Zimbabwe who share Bishop Sebastian’s patience, raw courage and inexhaustible cheerfulness. On my long journey south to Bulawayo from the Zambian border I picked up a very large lady who was married to a fireman. She told me that her husband earned Z$10 billion a month, but that they had just received a Z$278 billion bill to cover their son’s school fees for the summer term. Next we picked up a young boy. He had a note in his hand, written by his parents, saying he had tonsillitis and should be taken to St Patrick’s Hospital in the mining town of Hwange. We took him to the hospital, where the doctor was in despair. He told us that there were no medical gloves, no thermometers, no medicines and not even any paper to write prescriptions. The only way in patients could eat was if their families brought them food.
There were no overt signs of violence in Bulawayo when I arrived, and preparations were actively underway for the annual music festival, which was due to start on Wednesday evening. Seven musicians are flying out from Britain and a strong quartet from South Africa. The organiser, Michael Bullivant, a former schoolteacher and (like a surprisingly large number of people from Bulawayo) a Spectator subscriber, says that the four-day festival offers ‘as rich a diet of outstanding chamber music as you will find anywhere in the world’. He adds that some tickets are still available.
The day before my arrival in Bulawayo 500 women — members of WOZA, Women of Zimbabwe Arise — had attempted to march through the streets protesting for peace. They had scarcely gone two blocks when the police charged them, with some police vehicles ramming into the demonstration without warning. Sixty-four people had to receive hospital treatment, some with horrible injuries. Needless to say it was the marchers, rather than the police, who now face charges. The worst of the violence, however, takes place in Robert Mugabe’s Mashonaland heartlands. While I was in Harare, scores of victims, many with dreadful injuries, were being brought into the hospitals from outlying areas. Mugabe is systematically targeting all MDC organisers and activists, inflicting terrible beatings and tortures and driving them out of their villages. The official number of dead is around 40. In reality I am sure several hundred, and perhaps rather more, have been killed. It is only the lucky ones who reach the hospitals. Many must crawl off to die in the bush.
Meanwhile the MDC leader Morgan Tsvangirai stays out of the country. He has been threatened with assassination when he returns. And he has done very important work rallying support among African leaders and others. But every day the feeling grows that Tsvangirai’s supporters inside Zimbabwe are braving death on his behalf, and it is no longer good enough for their leader to live in comfort abroad. Mugabe has already launched his murderous bloody campaign for next month’s presidential run-off. The decision is momentous and full of peril — but surely it is time Tsvangirai comes back to play his full part in determining his country’s future. God knows Tsvangirai is no coward, but he is beginning to look like one, and in politics that amounts to the same thing.
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