The sun has set on the Sunshine City

Once Harare was a jewel in the crown of Southern Africa. Today it is a sad and depressing slum. What happened?

I took a walk around my city today, the Sunshine City as we used to call it, the City of Harare. I should have stayed at home, because what I found was enough to break my heart. The Sunshine City has gone, possibly never to return. In its place - ruin, squalor and despair.

I began my journey in Borrowdale. Once Borrowdale was one of our most affluent suburbs, with well-made roads, tall Jacaranda trees, clean footpaths and pleasant homes. Now the roads are wrecked and smoke billows across them from outdoor cooking fires.

Promise Sengwayo, a Borrowdale housewife, told me with an ironic laugh that the almost-continuous power cuts have turned her electric hob and other appliances into nothing more than household decorations.

"It's not just the power cuts. When the electricity does come on, usually late at night, we get power surges, and any appliance that is plugged in is ruined.

"Each day it seems we lose another basic comfort, one of those things we have become so accustomed to, living in a civilised city. We last had water we could drink three months ago. I've dug a shallow well at the back of the house to get what water I can. We gather firewood, and cook our food in the open.

"And then there are the small things we miss so much. It used to be a great pleasure to stroll out in the evenings to visit friends. Now none of the street lights work, the area is in total darkness, and we have to go out in large groups to avoid being mugged.

"Look around - you could be in a remote and deprived country area. Not in a modern capital city like Harare."

I moved on to Mbare. Those who know it will remember it was always a grim and downtrodden area. Now it is 100 per cent worse - smokey, filthy, and pockmarked with shallow wells.

Local resident Mbongeni Keswa told me:  "We have to dig for water. And we cannot use our lavatories, the whole sewage system has broken down. We relieve ourselves in the bush. And as a result, many suffer from outbreaks of diarrhoea, and there are fears of worse disease to come."

Finally my wander took me past State House. I am able to report that life in that magnificent building seems to be as good as ever. No doubt generators give the resident constant power, no doubt his cookers and his television still work, no doubt roomfuls of pure sweet bottled water wait to be consumed, possibly along with hearty measures of single malt.

I pictured Robert Mugabe, sitting in pompous state, looking through his windows at the devastation of his country. And I was reminded of the English poet Shelley and his story of the inscription on an ancient statue, found in the middle of a desert.

"My name is Ozymandius, King of Kings.
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair."