“The “displaced” want to be “placed” again

[Sr. Janet]

Driving from Lusaka in Zambia down to the amazing Kariba Dam used to
be a journey of contrasts. Flat, dry savannah where goats roamed
searching for the non-existent grass of Zambia’s Southern Province
made way for hills, sometimes steep, through which the road wound in
steep curves and traffic jams behind stalled and slow-moving, heavily-
laden trucks of goods bound for Zimbabwe and South Africa. Potholes
and frequent stretches of gravel roads gave way, at Kariba, to
excellent tarmac and the impression of silky-smooth roads; such was
the contrast...at least, that is, before the increased hardships of
the past ten years. Now, the Zambian roads surpass those of Zimbabwe,
because where there is no money for food, road maintenance becomes an
insignificant priority.

However, the roads of Zimbabwe told their own story. A wide grass
verge and high wire fences did more than merely keep wild animals away
from the road: often, they told stories of the struggle for
independence during the apartheid era, when the Government’s
antagonists were described as ‘guerrillas’ or ‘freedom fighters’
depending on one’s point of view. There were occasional discoveries of
mass graves, many of them hastily covered over and their finders sworn
to silence. As Bishop Dieter Scholz SJ writes of his 1990 visit to
Mary Mount Mission in Mazowe, 270 km north-east of Harare, ‘During
each rainy season, after a heavy storm, the skeletons of young
guerrilla fighters were washed up from their shallow graves in the
bush, with their rubber sandals and weapons still intact.’

More positively, from time to time, amidst the tall grass, there is
still evidence of the ‘strip road’, two parallel tracks of tarmac,
just sufficiently far apart as to permit a small pick-up, a tractor or
a lorry to drive through the bush. Yet a basic road, in itself, is
only a small help to peasant farmers, who, even today, depend on a
donkey, a hand-held plough, hoes and relatives in order to cultivate
poorly-irrigated land which is continually raided by birds, baboons
and, sadly, by other hungry people.

For huge numbers of villages in Zimbabwe, their occupants are totally
dependent on seasonal rivers where they dig ever-deeper holes in the
river bed in an attempt to find water for themselves and their
animals. Water is such an incredibly precious commodity in the
seemingly endless years of drought that it is ‘normal’ to see, in a
small waterhole, a woman filling her pots with water to carry home
whilst using the same pool to bath her children and wash the family’s
clothes whilst, a couple of yards away, sheep and goats slake their
thirst ... and, of course, water means snakes and, during the rainy
season, crocodiles, which regularly claim their victims.

A few minutes ago, I received the following from a friend in Zimbabwe,
whose name I withhold:
“This morning two women came to our parish house seeking help, rural
women from a village about 70 km out of town. They have been homeless
and living rough since April. That is when they were severely beaten
up for having voted “wrongly” and had their houses burnt down. They
showed me their scars. The elder has not seen her husband and children
since then, does not know where they are, and indeed if they are still
alive.
For a time they stayed at Harvest House where the police were
harassing them, took them to Ruwa, evicted them….They look and smell
like street people, have not had a wash for days. They know it and are
embarrassed.
Now they want to go home, to see if their families are still there, to
resume their old lives if at all possible. But it will not be
possible, life never be the same again. These scars and the memories
of these last few months cannot be erased. Some human relationships
may have been broken once and for all: most victims, I have found,
know at least some of their assailants. How can you ever chat casually
again and laugh with a neighbour who screamed for your blood?
Some of those who come for help will not take a NO for an answer. They
know what they want and they want it NOW! No good explaining that it
may take a day or two to get them the help they need. Cash is scarce
and hard to come by. Food runs out very quickly, the demand is so
high. The helpers and volunteers are only human and can take just so
much. Tension rises quickly and nerves are frayed, soon something
snaps, and there is an ugly scene. You wanted to be kind and you feel
awful you were not….
You had better not read the papers. Do the people who so desperately
hang on to power have the slightest idea of all the suffering they
have caused, are still causing? Do they care?
They have even the cheek to demand amnesty and impunity for the
terrible things they have done to this ragged, dishevelled, dirty bit
of humanity that lines up at our doorsteps. Better not think about
those people too much while you are trying to sort out the mess they
are responsible for. Your blood may just boil over.
And yet you wanted to be so kind……”
God bless, and may God also bless the people of Zimbabwe,
Sr Janet