Zimbabwe's spirit lady faces justice

The famous Mrs. Tagarira is in the dock - and just look who's standing beside her!

A trial is about to take place in the Zimbabwe High Court which is unique even here, in the uncertain world of Zimbabwean jurisprudence. It involves high-level political chicanery, the country's desperate fuel crisis, and a farcical tale of withcraft, spiritual messages and exotic rituals. The accused is Mrs. Nomatter Tagarira, also known as Rotina Mavhunga, and also known, when "possessed" by the name of her possessing spirit, Sekuru Dombo.

Regular readers and the well-informed will know that our subject here is the diesel-from-the-living-rock saga. Most of you will also know at least part of the story. For newcomers, here, briefly, is the situation. Frankly, it deserves a little repetition.

A million men on the march...probably

The fascinating leader of the War Veterans reveals how to be a hero in easy stages

This coming Friday might be a good day to stay at home for some of us, because this is the day when Jabulani Sibanda will lead one million men on a march through the streets of Harare. At least, he says there will one million, and anyone who want to try and count them is welcome.

The march is called the One Million Men Solidarity March, and it has two aims:  firstly, to show loyalty to the President; and second and more important, to stamp on any criticism of Mugabe within the disruptive ranks of Zanu-PF.

Sibanda, an erratic, noisy and charismatic figure, is the leader of the War Veterans, and it is these vets, he says, who will make up the great majority of the Friday march. This puzzled me. Only 50,000 veterans turned up at army assembly points, back in 1980. Twenty seven years on, even those warriors are begining to age. Exactly where is Sibanda finding his million men? I decided to ask him.

Now the money's gone truly mad

Why the cost of foreign currency on the black market makes a nonsense of government policy

By the time you read this it will be out of date. But at the moment of writing, around 10am on Monday October 22, here in Bulawayo and dealing on the black market, one single US dollar will cost you two million Zimbabwean dollars. I've been speaking with the black market currency dealers, this is what they tell me, and they are the people who know.

The government see it differently. They say it only costs 30,000 Zimbabwe dollars to buy a US buck. That's the official rate. It is also nonsense. As is the government's estimate of the inflation rate for September, which they set at 7,982 per cent. Independent estimates put it around 25,000 per cent.

This is bad news for almost all of us, of course, and the problem gets worse every day as we scramble to find more real cash to buy simple household items - cooking oil, soap, etc. - from neighbouring nations, because such things are hopelessly scarce in our own shops. Yet there are some people who are thriving in this fiscal jungle. Can you guess who they are?

Bringing the curtain down

How Mugabe's men are moving back stage to save their boss from the deadly weapon of satire!

Ten minutes before curtain-up is a nerve-racking time for any actor. But ten minutes before curtain-up at the Amakhosi Arts Centre in Bulawayo last week turned into ten minutes of chaos, when police stormed in and stopped the show before it started.

This was the latest in a series of aggressive actions by the Police Internal Security Intelligence (PISI), which is another of our multitude of thuggish paramilitary forces, and whose duty is to stamp on free speech, dramatic entertainment, and anything else that might carry the anti-Mugabe message.

The play they chose to hamstring this time was "Overthrown", a political satire written by Stanley Makuwe and produced and directed by Cont Mhlanga. And one must admit it was a production that pulled no punches. How's this for an in-your-face scene:

The disturbing way of death in Zimbabwe

A chilling experience in a place that is no longer properly chilled

Threats and more threats in the Zanu-PF civil war

New leaked memos indicate that the split in the ruling party is getting wider by the hour

On Monday October 8 I wrote about a split in Zanu-PF, with the party's Bulawayo faction banning a march led by controversial activist Jabulani Sibanda (Check it out, below: "Zanu-PF in new major conflict with...Zanu-PF")  I thought then that I was breaking big news. It now appears I didn't know the half of it.

If the information I have since been given is correct, then this is no normal split, no run-of-the-mill shouting match. Instead it is virtually all-out war.

A memo emanating from the Bulawayo branch of Zanu-PF, shown to me this week, indicates that Sibanda, leader of the War Veterans, has been labelled a "Prime Score" - that is, a top target - and that four hit-men have been instructed to "immobilise him."

Inky fingers and sticky politics

As the harmonised elections loom and the in-fighting begins, it looks like democracy will be the loser

Still three months or more to go before our Presidential and Parliamentary elections, but already Zimbabwe's two main political movements are gearing themselves up, each in its own traditional way. The ruling Zanu-PF is preparing to fix the result, while the oppositon MDC is getting ready to split. Yes, it's looking like another typical Zimbabwean election.

In the Opposition ranks, rebellion as ever stirs. Basically many activists believe that the MDC leadership has betrayed its rank and file by going along with the mediation between itself and Zanu-PF, under the benevolent authority of South Africa's Thabo Mbeki (above right, with Mugabe).  This unrest has led to a recent meeting in Bulawayo of 930 delegates from 27 different organisations, and the agreement in principle to form a coalition that will oppose both Zanu-PF and the MDC at the elections.

If you think that's splitting the opposition vote and ensuring a Zanu-PF victory, you're not alone. And there's more bad news to come.

Death of a teenager

An appalling shortage of anti-retroviral drugs in the country is already claiming victims

Tabita Ncube was a carefree Bulawayo teenagers until three years ago. Then her life fell apart. She was raped, and no long afterwards was diagnosed as HIV positive. She joined the estimated 1.8m Zimbabweans living with the virus.

Following her diagnosis, Tabita, who had no regular income, registered at Mpilo Hospital in Bulawayo, and applied for free anti-retroviral drugs. Six months later she received her first batch. Her mother Angela remembers: "She was so excited when she got them. And she never missed taking them."

So it was a major blow when she learned at the hospital recently that it could no longer supply her, because there were no drugs available any more. The future for Tabita looked bleak indeed.

Zanu-PF in new major conflict with...Zanu-PF!

Chaos surrounding a rally in Bulawayo is an indication of new internal problems for Mugabe

The one good thing you can say about the current political leadership in Zimbabwe is, when they're not making life miserable for the rest of us, they're doing it to each other. So an outbreak of unusually acute internecine strife in Zanu-PF last week has really cheered me up.

It happened in Bulawayo, where war veterans planned to march through the city in support of Robert Mugabe's candidacy as party leader, ahead of the party's extraordinary congress in December. Controversial Vets national leader Jabulani Sibanda had virtually taken his place at the head of the march, due to end at Davies Hall, the Party HQ in the city centre, when it was abruptly called off.

"We were informed," a war veteran told me, "that the party leadership in Bulawayo had not sanctioned the meeting, and as such it could not go on."

If you find it odd that a march in support of the party leader is banned by the same party, then you are a newcomer to the Byzantine world of Zanu-PF. Read on, I'll try to explain.

Goodbye to the clown, hello to the crocodile

There's a reshuffle coming in the Mugabe cabinet - and shuffling off is one of this blog's favourite characters

It's always sad to say goodbye to old friends, especially those who make us laugh. So it gives me no pleasure at all to announce the almost immediate departure of our helpless, hapless and hopeless Minister of National Security, Didymus Mutasa.

Yes, good old Didymus, a man who once nursed secret ambitions to be President himself, is on his way out. Showing him the door is, of course, his boss, our boss, everyone's boss, President Robert Mugabe. Expect an announcement before Christmas.

Didymus doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to leave those plush offices at Chaminuka House, the official headquarters of his ministry and its chief organ, the Central Intelligence Organisation (CIO). But when Big Bob says you got to go...you got to go.

Our teachers learn a hard lesson

Striking school staff across the nation face intimidation, beatings and arrest - how long can they hold out?

The Zimbabwe teachers strike rumbles on into its third day this morning, and as we have come to expect, it is noticeable for, first, the bravery of those on strike, and second, the brutality of the state forces in their attempts to defeat them.

The strike is remarkable for the fact that this is the first time our two main teaching unions, who are usually implacably opposed, have joined forces. Even the normally state-aligned Zimbabwe Teachers Union (ZIMTA) has declared that its members will stay out until government accedes to their demands.

Education minister Eaneas Chigwedere is talking mildly about reaching a compromise, but meanwhile his agents, the state security thugs, are going into action. The result is appalling brutality, arrests and bullying. I know. I've seen it.

Now even your underwear is under attack!

A new raft of import duties means what was a necessity is now a luxury, especially for the ladies

Life here in Zimbabwe gets harder every day, and if you don't believe me, ask a woman. She'll tell you that things have lately got a lot tougher, with the sudden scarcity of that most intimate of all feminine garments, her panties.

It's arguable, of course, that such wispy undergarments are as important to us guys as they are to the girls, but either way it makes no difference. Suddenly they are either unavailable or unaffordable. Why? Who do we blame for this further restriction on our pursuit of happiness?

Who else but the government?