Thursday, 8 May 2008

Karoi - What Road Block?

Through Nicks sterling work we hooked up with a man called Mike Mason a local Zimbabwean. Mike was a tobacco farmer who was kicked off his farm back in 2000 and has been trying to survive since then by doing many different things, always remaining in support of his country, both in trying to help those who can't protect themselves and also to change the Mugabe regime, like others. The plan was to meet him for a coffee and see what stories he had for us.

The day started badly with James nipping out in the car to do a couple of errands - just for half an hour or so. 2 hours later he returned - and given the continued lack of any sort of phone service Nick wasn't able to rouse him to get him back. As a result we missed out first scheduled meet time and it had to be shifted.

This was also the start of our two / three car moves wherever we went. Nick and I would go ahead and meet the contact make sure everything was OK. James would then go back for Stuart and as soon as he arrived we would head off in the contacts car, leaving James behind waiting. All the while trying to make sure Stuart spent as little time in public as possible. Though we tried to meet where the local white Zimbabweans shopped, though you could never could tell if the CIO or informers were hanging around watching and waiting.

I had the button camera on again as we were meeting Mike in a local cafe and this meant we could film the conversation with out arousing too much suspicion. Everyone must have though I had the runs the amount of times I went to the toilet to sort the camera out. Stuart, being the good journalist he is, forgot to bring the bag with the handicam in - so James had to go back for it. Honestly they are all the same - give them something to hold, look after, be responsible for, a journo will lose it / break it... even if it is theirs. The amount of times I have had to pick up after Richard B, Alex C, Stuart and all the others over the years, it really does prepare you well for having children. Not in the job description at all.

While waiting for Stuart to arrive we had a good chat - it was nice to talk to someone else being sat in pleasant surroundings. It turned out that some opposition MDC supporters had been beaten up and one person killed not too far from Harare, in a place called Karoi. They were at a doctors surgery getting treatment. It was a couple of hours drive and as it was after lunch we would have to get a move on if we wanted to be back before dark. It's not wise to drive through the countryside too late.

As this was unplanned we left James at the shopping centre and headed off, first to collect fishing stuff for the back of the van - we were going fishing on a fishing trip should we get stopped and then to find diesel. This took longer than expected. The petrol station being out, the first bootlegger also didn't have any so we went on to another who did, with a tanker in the forecourt being loaded / unloaded.

Moving out we headed north west along the main road towards Zambia. Mike was a very good host - keeping us entertained with stories of his farm capture and life in Zimbabwe now. The strange; how the head of the Anglican church, who was a Mugabe supporter, had been 'removed' from office and the successor had to hold services on the street outside the church as he wasn't allowed in - to the downright disgusting; the agricultural minister who went up in a helicopter to do the annual crop yield survey - declaring it to be 2.2 million tonnes. At its peak it was only 1.7 million tonnes or so and since then with the white farmers kicked off their land it had mainly become fallow. In fact on TV there was an advert stating that 2007/8 was the 'Mother of all Seasons'. Strange most of the fields we passed were bare.



On the way to Karoi we passed through absolutely stunning countryside - which used to be the bread basket of Africa but now visibly wasting away. It is a real shame to see what Mugabe and his cronies have done to once proud successful community after community. About half way we stopped at a cafe in Mugabe's home town where another ex-farmer had set up a road side cafe. Though many attempts had been made to make him leave he still stayed as a lone voice against the oppression. When he found an ally in the local police chief, they were transfered. I know I live in a very safe little bubble but it is so good to see that giving up is not an option in their struggle and no matter what physical or mental duress is applied they get back up and continue their fight. As a parting gift he gave us each a homemade chicken pasty - best chicken pasty ever - crispy pastry, juicy and perfectly peppery.

Karoi is hardly a large town - but that's not really a surpise given Zimbabwe's small population of only 9 million ish. A main street with the usual shops - bakers, newsagent, electrical, mobile phones... and a couple of roads leading off to other nearby villages. We turned down one of these passing the Zanu PF headquarters - located in the towns' hotel, and to the doctors surgery. Mike went in to see if we could film inside and we were left alone in the car in a strange, possibly volatile and dangerous place. Next to the surgery was a 'department' store, with little in the shuttered windows but still a large queue waiting out side. Every so often as someone came out another went in. The bizzare thing being that they came out with nonsensical goods. A man with a pair of ladies flip flops and another with a couple of belts. Either these where things that they really needed or they where the only things in the shop available and they were buying them to barter with. I guess as hard currency was depreciating so quickly actual goods would hold their value and the smallest thing would be an investment against inflation.



Mike came out having seen the doctor and paid him for treating the injured people. They had now been taken to the police station to make statements so it looked like a wasted trip. Mike called the local MDC politition, 'Biggee' or 'Big E', and arranged to meet us at local restaurant. Mike dropped us off and we ordered cokes while waiting. I think we all then wondered what the heck was going on. Three white blokes in the small town where an opposition supporter had been killed, sat the garden of a restaurant over looking the main road in plain view of everyone. It wasn't the best place to conduct interviews let alone be seen talking with people who had been beaten up. It just wasn't going to happen. Mad may be, but not stupid.

Arriving back with the men and woman from the police station and we outlined our safety concerns for all involved. The penny must have dropped and after a quick discussion with Biggee they would now take us to the old farmers club. As the name suggests this is where the farmers came to socialise, relax and have a good time. It used to be Mike's local and had now fallen into disrepair now it had been abandoned. You really could imagine it with kids tearing around over the lawns, a bbq out back with farmers and their families enjoying Sunday afternoon's while moaning about whatever farmers moan about. At least they would have been happy. It's only recent use was as a polling station and in between times just left to rot.

After ten minutes nervously waiting Mike turned up with the locals and they told us what had happened. Why, because they didn't vote for Mugabe and as they were known to be supporting the opposition, they where forced out of their homes and beaten up. Dark skin doesn't show bruising very well though it was obvious on closer inspection. The three men and the one woman infornt of us had all been brutaly attcaked, very recently. One way we were told to hide the bruising further, is to roll the person in a blanket and then beat them with an iron bar - that way just the ribs are broken, or hit the buttocks for massive bruising, even attacking soles of the feet. So many ways to inflict pain and suffering. We drove home in relative silence as darkness fell - watching for bandits.

We passed through a total of 7 check points apparently. I must admit I didn't give them much warrant or count them. Mike was very polite to the policeman - talking to them in Zimbabwean and only once or twice did they look in the boot at the fishing stuff. It was Stuart who voiced a little more concern when we got back. I guess thats the difference with being a wanted man.

The next day we put together their story together with our walk around Harare:

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