From where I am (by the bananas), the noise from the street is deafening. Trucks race up and down the high street -- 10 of them, or is it 20? Youths hang out of the windows, shouting and gesticulating.
Shoppers move cautiously to the open front of the store to watch. Pedestrians stop. I wonder whose demonstration it is. Probably ZANU-PF. MDC marches are rarely allowed. Maybe this is something to do with indigenisation? I look for flags, banners -- anything that'll provide some sort of a clue. The BEE minister has been upping the I'll-grab-your-firm rhetoric recently, even taking on the (also ZANU-PF) central bank chief who's warned against his use of "verbal gunpowder." I know of at least one white businessman who skedaddled down South for an extended 'holiday' after ruling party stalwarts tried to test his 'patriotism' by ordering he attend -and contribute to - local celebrations to mark Heroes Day.
No-one in the store knows what the demo's for. I forget about it until I see this week's paper.
The demo is actually a funeral procession for a local diamond dealer named Bothy. A former street-kid, according to the lengthy obit (diamond dealers get star treatment here from the local press) who used to sleep in cardboard boxes, Bothy (/ie) was killed in a car crash (aren't they all?) and died at the local private clinic. "Police were just overwhelmed by the event," said the Manica Post. The rumour is that he'd duped gwejas (diggers) of their gems. The crash was his reward.
Showing posts with label demo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label demo. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
continuity
"Did you see what's happening in Tunisia?" he says. As in so many middle-class Shona homes, they have the widest flat-screen available plus the latest (purple) cellphones. The furniture is comfortably dingy in this 60-something lecturer's home. There are water patches on the ceiling. I have similar ones at my place.
"I was up on the roof trying to fix the leaks with wood," he says, shaking his head. Years ago, there would have been workmen to call in. Now we do our own DIY. "She (my wife) was inside, banging on the ceiling with a broom where the patches were."
Sky TV has rolling pictures of the Tunisian crisis. From my armchair, I can see tanks, wide white streets, people rioting. Outside are the green hills of Zimbabwe's east. The president was in town just last month for his ZANU-PF party's annual conference, vowing to defeat "illegal Western sanctions." Mugabe has been in power in Zimbabwe 30 years, seven longer than Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, the Tunisian leader. Both have glamourous, hated wives.
"Now the protesters are saying they want all the ruling party to go," says his wife, a teacher.
"But where's the continuity? It might be worse than before." She shakes her head. I'm struck, once again, by the great gulf between my Western reading of a situation and a local -- and most definitely pro-opposition -- one.
"I was up on the roof trying to fix the leaks with wood," he says, shaking his head. Years ago, there would have been workmen to call in. Now we do our own DIY. "She (my wife) was inside, banging on the ceiling with a broom where the patches were."
Sky TV has rolling pictures of the Tunisian crisis. From my armchair, I can see tanks, wide white streets, people rioting. Outside are the green hills of Zimbabwe's east. The president was in town just last month for his ZANU-PF party's annual conference, vowing to defeat "illegal Western sanctions." Mugabe has been in power in Zimbabwe 30 years, seven longer than Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, the Tunisian leader. Both have glamourous, hated wives.
"Now the protesters are saying they want all the ruling party to go," says his wife, a teacher.
"But where's the continuity? It might be worse than before." She shakes her head. I'm struck, once again, by the great gulf between my Western reading of a situation and a local -- and most definitely pro-opposition -- one.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
definitions
When is a beating not a beating?
A beating, he says as we drive round the corner by the National Gallery (which is promoting a nice line in bottle-top art this week) has to be several strokes. If you just get whacked once on the back with a baton, you can't call that a beating in copy.
He's probably right. But then, if I got whacked at all by a riot policeman (even if it was just once), I think I'd feel I'd been beaten.
A beating, he says as we drive round the corner by the National Gallery (which is promoting a nice line in bottle-top art this week) has to be several strokes. If you just get whacked once on the back with a baton, you can't call that a beating in copy.
He's probably right. But then, if I got whacked at all by a riot policeman (even if it was just once), I think I'd feel I'd been beaten.
purple shirt
The shirt was pinkish-purple. Bright. Something a too-eager girlfriend might have bought for her man on Valentine's Day. Expensive possibly, but not a shirt my father would ever consent to wear.
He didn't have a tie. I'm pretty certain the shirt was untucked, hanging over a pair of black trousers.
Purple Shirt was clearly in charge of the beatings.
Yards from my car window, he swung his black baton at members of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions (ZCTU). They were protesting cash withdrawal limits of just 500,000 dollars (20p).
A woman in a black leather jacket with a braided ponytail ran across the road to the truck and tried to grab hold of a male protester already sitting meekly inside, guarded by blue-uniformed riot police.
Purple Shirt turned on her, sending her sprawling onto the pavement.
Did his girlfriend watch him put that shirt on this morning?
He didn't have a tie. I'm pretty certain the shirt was untucked, hanging over a pair of black trousers.
Purple Shirt was clearly in charge of the beatings.
Yards from my car window, he swung his black baton at members of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions (ZCTU). They were protesting cash withdrawal limits of just 500,000 dollars (20p).
A woman in a black leather jacket with a braided ponytail ran across the road to the truck and tried to grab hold of a male protester already sitting meekly inside, guarded by blue-uniformed riot police.
Purple Shirt turned on her, sending her sprawling onto the pavement.
Did his girlfriend watch him put that shirt on this morning?
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