Unfolding story of Zimbabwe is beset by glaring contradictions
Mnangagwa, celebrated today, was the villain of the Gukurahundi killings
“In times of joy, Africa sings; in times of war, Africa sings; in times of trouble, yes, Africa sings!”
The events currently unfolding in Zimbabwe contrived to remind me of these lyrics from a Gibson Kente song, from his famous production Sikalo.
For how else do you begin to tell the story of that beautiful but troubled land without acknowledging the obvious contradictions that beset it?
In his initial capacity as prime minister of Zimbabwe, Robert Mugabe, working with his comrades such as Canaan Banana and other former liberation fighters including Joshua Nkomo, turned Zimbabwe, after it obtained its independence in 1980, into the pride of Southern Africa.
Performing at the independence celebrations, Bob Marley set the tone for a thriving artistic culture which gave impetus to the careers of such artists as Dambudzo Marechera, Thomas Mapfumo, and Tsitsi Dangarengba, whose work had always been at the cutting edge of the anticolonial agenda.
The country boasted high standards of education and the economy was so stable that when I first visited that country in 1990, their dollar was stronger than the rand. Food was cheap.
Nothing could go wrong, or so we thought, but something did go wrong. In terms of a power-sharing deal between Mugabe’s Zanu-PF and Nkomo’s Zipra, Nkomo became minister of home affairs. This was a powerful position, encompassing both the police and intelligence services. However, Mugabe and his comrades in Zanu decided to redesign this office, with the result that both police and intelligence were reassigned to the ministry of security.
Nkomo did not hesitate to express his displeasure at what was clearly an exercise of castrating him. Mugabe’s inner circle decided to fire him in 1981, but Mugabe knew Nkomo was not going to take this lying down.
There was going to be war. But the country did not, at the time, realise how serious a war this was going to be, and what this would mean for the future of the country.
With the sacking of Nkomo, his supporters in Zipra, which was dominated by Ndebele people, made it known they wanted to “go back to the bush” – a colloquialism for war.
Mugabe responded by forming the Fifth Brigade, which would grow into a brutal unit meant to bring down the Ndebele rebellion.
Anecdotally known as the Gukurahundi – Shona for the “the early rain which washes away the chaff before the spring rains” – the unit was then sent to Nkomo’s stronghold in Matabeleland between 1983 and 1984.
Their brutal campaign, which also came to be called the Gukurahundi, resulted in the death of an estimated 30 000 Ndebele people.
This genocide, which has been a blot on the otherwise optimistic Zimbabwean outlook, took place largely under the auspices of one Emmerson Mnangagwa who was then security minister.
Over the years, NGOs and human rights activists have been campaigning for Mugabe, Mnangagwa and their inner circle to be brought to book for their role in the genocide. It is against this background that we have to understand why Mugabe stayed in power for so long.
There was a general belief, by those close to him, that his stay in office gave him and his inner circle immunity against possible prosecution by the International Criminal Court as happened to Charles Taylor, among other international despots implicated in large-scale murders.
Now we are faced with the delicious irony of the descendants of the victims of the Gukurahundi celebrating the elevation of Mnangagwa
Because, in their book “anyone but Mugabe” can and should assume leadership of the troubled country.
Is Mnangagwa’s reign going to restore sustainable peace, or is it another ploy to postpone the prosecution of those who were in charge?
As the people of Zimbabwe sing and celebrate Mnangagwa’s ousting of Mugabe, they should seriously ponder these questions.