Zimbabwe crisis deepens
Zimbabwean journalist Nhlalo Ndaba looks at life in a country that seemed to be on the brink of salvation – until it descended into chaos yet again
IRECEIVED my salary last week but I don’t know how I’ll survive until the end of the month. I’ve paid my rent and I thank God my landlord hasn’t yet started demanding her payment in foreign currency, as those who sell medication in Zimbabwe are doing. It’s one of my biggest fears – will I manage to keep taking my kids to school and, if they become sick, will I be able to afford medication for them?
My 78-year-old grandmother fell ill a few days ago. Something as basic as a box of 24 Panado tablets, which costs about R18 in South Africa, is nearly twice as expensive here, at $2,50 (R34).
What if she required the attention of a doctor, I ask myself, shuddering at the thought. They charge at least $50 (R680) for a check-up.
For now, though, the only essential that remains affordable – barely – is electricity, as tariffs have stayed the same for more than a year. But if Eskom shuts off the Zimbabwean grid there will be hell in store for us.
The local electricity supplier will try to raise foreign currency to pay Eskom through us, the customers. Right now Zimbabwe owes Eskom more than $40 million (R544 million).
I’m lucky enough to get by with help from relatives outside Zimbabwe for things as simple as basic groceries.
A basket of groceries that might cost R500 in South Africa costs an arm and a leg in Zimbabwe. Because I can’t afford these basics, my family sends them to me free of charge until “you’re back on your feet”.
For most of us here, Januworry continues in February. I can’t afford the cost of driving to visit family because the petrol price has shot up by 150%. One litre of petrol costs $3,31 (R45) – that’s the highest price anywhere in the world.
Many workers trudge to work on foot for up to 25km every day.
All signs point to an economy headed in one direction: total collapse, economist Stevenson Dlamini says.
“There’s hyperinflation and insufficient exports to generate money. It’s a dead end,” he says.
And, according to the World Health Organisation, an estimated eight million Zimbabweans, mostly in rural areas, face starvation if things don’t change soon.
It’s enough to break your heart. That golden dawn we glimpsed, for a brief moment when hope shone bright, has become shrouded by a nightmare.
THERE was euphoria when Robert Mugabe’s 37-year reign ended after a military coup in November 2017. Zim was finally free of the dictator who’d turned Africa’s breadbasket into a basket case. Brian Tshuma, a high school teacher, realises now he’d foreseen the signs of disaster.
“As the educated in society, the teachers, doctors and other professionals, we felt Mugabe should’ve been replaced by a transitional authority. Sadly, we started hearing talk of the removal of Mugabe being an internal Zanu-PF cleansing ceremony,” he says.
Buoyed by international goodwill, Zimbabwe’s new president, Emmerson Mnangagwa, went on a regional and international charm offensive to sanitise the coup. But there were no countries willing to offer bailouts.
An acute cash crisis, coupled with the death of opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai last February ahead of the July election, saw the people of Zim losing hope of seeing their lot improve.
Zama Mkhwananzi, a political analyst,
describes Mnangagwa’s first cabinet as “a disaster, as he appointed allies from the coup”. “He was basically sharing the spoils”. Tsvangirai, if he’d been alive, would have won the election, Mkhwananzi believes.
Nothing changed after Mugabe stepped down, says Arthur Mutambara, the former deputy prime minister in Zim’s Inclusive Government of 2008-2013.
Instead Mugabe was “replaced by his bouncers. They’re continuing with his ways, hence [there’s] more suffering for the masses”.
NURSES went on a countrywide strike in May last year at the same time as an outbreak of cholera, which would claim 30 lives. The new government responded by firing 16 000 nurses, but that move proved costly in an already crippled health sector and the sacked nurses were all rehired.
“The government showed us how ruthless it could get when we simply demanded our rightful dues, such as better working conditions and remuneration,” a member of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions says. “We were, and still are, wallowing in poverty. But we’ve gathered the courage to tackle them head-on.”
When Mnangagwa announced last month’s exorbitant fuel hike, the only way for Zimbabweans to voice their outrage was to take to the streets to protest.
It’s believed the petrol price was pushed up to boost government revenue and to eliminate queues at petrol pumps.
“The fuel hike was an indirect way to erode our earnings because the prices of goods and services have sharply increased,” Dlamini says. “What was more of an insult was the government giving its workers a 5% salary increment in the face of a 150% fuel price increase.”
Zimbabweans took part in a three-day stayaway in January to protest the petrol hike.
Regardless of their political affiliation, people everywhere were angry at how their lives were becoming unmanageably hard, municipal worker Mathew Shoko says. “When we complain and take to the streets we’re doing it as Zimbabweans, not politically inspired people.”
Because countrywide demonstrations appeared coordinated, the police, state security and military shut down internet access in a bid to stop people from mobilising. The government’s response to what became a three-day stayaway was brutal.
The Zimbabwe Association of Doctors for Human Rights said its members treated more than 100 patients on the second day, including dozens with gunshot wounds, and that at least five people had died. One doctor said the real
number of injured and dead is likely to be higher. In the aftermath about 1 000 people were arrested for their involvement in the January stayaway, and 146 trials related to it are under way.
Calm has returned to the streets of Harare and Bulawayo and the army tanks have returned to their bases. But state security elements have been planted in communities to watch for any signs of rebellion. It’s as if the country took one tiny step forward and five steps back.
What’s next? The government is floundering, political analyst Ibbo Mandaza says. “They’re the most clueless lot since independence. There’s a need for more than dialogue to solve the crisis.”
Other analysts say the country needs an inclusive government. This could lead to funding and probably hand-holding by the International Monetary Fund to restore economic stability.
If the government was to demonstrate respect for democracy and human rights, this could lead to the removal of sanctions imposed nearly 20 years ago by the USA and the European Union.
The USA, while acknowledging the authority of the current government, says it won’t lift sanctions until it’s convinced the country is changing its ways.
So, because of the latest election outcome and the aftermath of the January protests, Zim remains in the doldrums. And its people in a state of turmoil.