Sanctions: Politics of sabotage in ‘Jambanja’
THE opening chapter of Eric Harrison’s memoir, “Jambanja” (2006) is telling in that it places Zimbabwe in the context of the many sanctions the country had been exposed to, either by the United Nations, the United States of America, the European Union, or both, since 1966.
This has reduced the country to perpetual candidacy in what academic, writer and researcher, Chidiebere C. Ogbonna, has termed the “sanctions industry.”
In a study titled “Politics of sanctions: Impact of US and EU sanctions on the rights and well-being of Zimbabweans”, published in 2015, Chidiebere C. Ogbonna, observes that Zimbabwe has “been sanctioned in six sanctions episodes: 1966, 2002, 2003, 2005, 2008 and 2009.”
This makes the Southern African nation “one of the most sanctioned countries in the world,” hence, scuttling economic growth, and consequently, threatening the overall welfare of ordinary Zimbabweans, and impinging on their rights.
With the people of Zimbabwe, and, indeed, all Africans, coming together to speak with one voice against sanctions in the month of October, and setting aside the 25th as the SADC Day against Sanctions, Harrison’s “Jambanja” easily comes to mind, particularly on the way he venerates Ian Smith and his Rhodesia.
This year’s theme against sanctions imposed on Zimbabwe is, “Friend to All, Enemy to None: Forging ahead and Enhancing Innovation and Productivity in Adversity of Sanctions”.
From the first chapter of “Jambanja”, Harrison informs the reader of the sanctions imposed on Rhodesia in 1966 after Ian Smith’s Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI) on November 11, 1965, and how despite the challenges emanating from the embargo, the country managed to flourish.
By Harrison’s admission, Rhodesia flourished, because it was supported by fellow European countries like Australia, New Zealand, Canada and others, as well as apartheid South Africa.
It was a European affair, he admits. Rhodesia continued to thrive as a European nation in Africa, with whites living parasitic lives off black Africans’ heritage.
“Industry was becoming self-sufficient and the typical ‘British bulldog’ attitude of the inhabitants’ forefathers kept the country going”, Harrison claims. To him, “inhabitants’ forefathers”, are white descendants and their forebears.
Rhodesia belongs to the British, it is a European nation, hence it cannot be deliberately brought to its knees by sanctions.
That is the reasoning behind the colonial fortress’ success.
Even after Zimbabwe became independent in April 1980, the European nation continued to flourish unabated, until the post-2000 Fast-Track Land Reform Programme, which checked the status quo on land ownership.
Harry’s interior monologue on the prevailing state of affairs may help in contextualising the issue of heritage:
He thinks out loud: “Can I really blame the individual new intruders? What would I have done if I’d been born black? Wouldn’t I have had the same attitude, especially having seen the ‘rich white man’, who for all these years had driven around in his fancy cars and lived in nice fancy houses?”
Harrison drives the point home: “What about my children, shouldn’t they have what the white man has? After a long war against white rule and the land he possessed, the white man still dominated the land, the mining and the wealth.
“Who, in their right mind, would turn down an offer to become a rich man, especially when there was no cost involved at all?”
The above citation just about sums it all—it was about the land, has always been about the land, a stolen heritage, and nothing more. Yet, critics of land reforms in Zimbabwe, especially after 2000, claim that it is a political issue.
Harry raises the issue of “othering”, which has robbed blacks of their heritage and left them poorer in tangible and intangible terms as they have nothing to bequeath to future generations.
Harrison admits that after the “war against white rule and the land he possessed, the white man still dominated the land, mining and the wealth”. He even calls the indigenous owners of the land “new intruders” for seeking to reclaim their heritage. One wonders who the old intruders are.
It boggles the mind why then Harrison insists that the post-2000 Fast Track Land Reform Programme was politically engineered by Zanu PF as a ploy to remain in power, when the reasons behind the reforms are even clearer to him as a white settler.
Another interesting issue is that Harry, like “many farmers still on the land, over the last few years”, had “not replaced any of his old tractors, and had allowed his equipment to wind down to a point where it was just operable, no more than that”, and that the “same applied to all buildings on the farm”.
Harry’s son, Trevor removes the generator that powers the farm, yet against all that scheming Harrison insists on compensation. He has already run down everything.
Of the 187 hectares of Maioio Farm, 105 are under sugarcane, 55 under citrus, leaving 27 hectares unaccounted for. Harry’s insistence that the “intruders” were after his oranges and sugarcane, would mean that they were not interested in the other 27 hectares, which he could have asked to be allowed to use.
He mourns the loss of the tools that he had inherited from his father; “tools that were irreplaceable”, and “would never be handed down to his sons’’.
However, he does not seem to remember that Africans lost many “tools” dearest to them over generations of settler domination.
He openly admits to supporting the MDC, and says “the country’s powerful landed gentry” funded the opposition outfit and “human rights groups” to campaign for a NO vote in the 2000 Referendum.
The vocabulary Harrison uses here says it all: “powerful landed gentry”.
Whites in the European nation of the country, are powerful and noble because they own the land; African land, an African heritage.
Playing the politics of subterfuge and sabotage, the “powerful landed gentry” pours money into the opposition MDC’s coffers in the name of democracy; an impoverished democracy, in which the tyranny of the minority subdues the majority.
Although the Referendum was not a political election, Harrison claims that the MDC united front “won 55 percent of the votes as against the ruling Zanu-PF’s 45 percent.”
He informs the reader that after the announcement of the results, “There was wild
jubilation by the MDC’s local and foreign supporters, prompting ‘End of Mugabe’ headlines in the British media”.
Not that it is wrong for him to support a party of his choice, no! What is wrong is for him to then demean others for supporting Zanu PF; a party that offers them access to the land—their heritage. The same heritage that determines power and gentility.
The fact that there “was wild jubilation” in foreign capitals hostile to Mugabe and what he stood for; empowerment of the black people through their heritage, shows that the British and their cronies are interested parties in the land issue in Zimbabwe, which they want to lord over.
Harrison captures this rationale of the Rhodesian, nay European nation at the “wedding of Andre Fourie, a true blue Afrikaner, and Emily Kendall, a beautiful English Rose” where “there were, Afrikaners, English, French, Irish – you name it, all enjoying each other’s company”.
The exclusive and exquisite venue is a camp “usually reserved for hunters from all over the world”.
Such is the status quo that Harrison and other white supremacists, or alien gods from the West, wish to preserve, where they eat “smoked trout” and down “copious amounts of chilled Nederburg La Bonnet 1998”, and frustratingly laugh “at the thought of a bunch of war vets sipping chilled wine out of plastic mugs”.
The black African sips from “plastic mugs”, because glasses are for the white man; the colonialist, the plunderer, the oppressor, the master.
Put the nigger in his place and keep him running, that is the white supremacist’s way, and to preserve the status quo, he has to rubbish everything with a remote chance of giving the black African a go at life, and not just to be merely existing. Using tribalism, a colonial creation (Davison, 1992; Lull, 1995), Harry puts a wedge between Bitros and his fellow Africans by pretending to “love” him more as a Matabele, “like” him.
As a contested heritage, battles over the land issue are fought in different ways, and from contrasting ideological standpoints.
Literary texts, as sites of struggle (Vambe, 2005; Wodak, 2001), are driven more by lived experience than imagination, which confirms the idea that creativity is an extension of reality.
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