When elephants fight

The thing about power - as has been said many a time - is that it corrupts... the love of power (over and above that of money) for me is the root of all evil. It is in and of itself an all consuming desire to conquer not only one's own world, but the worlds of other... power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. To date millions of people have died in fights for power.. many more will die today... and if we sit back and say "Aaah! But that is the way of the world" many more will die tomorrow and the day after and the day after that...

Today, I write with a heavy heart... once an optimist, man has shown me a side so dark my optimism has been tainted... I find myself believing more and more each day that at the core of many men is an evil so cancerous it threatens to ruin humanity... an evil so all consuming it will mark the end of us all..

I am happy to be alive, my day has not yet come.. but many did not live to see today.. they were killed.. killed by their kin, killed by their kith, killed by their kind.. not by the beasts that lurk in the savanna, but by others like them... hacked by machetes, shot down by AK47s.. Some are alive in body, but dead in spirit. They do not see the world as they did yesterday, they cannot.. stripped of their dignity, a deep hatred thrives where love used to blossom... they are victims of an inhumane world.. a world that does not hear their cries or see their tears.. a world that you and I call ourselves citizens of..

Once an optimist, my rose tinted glasses have been stained by images of mangled bodies and lifeless carcasses... Once an optimist, I see evil in the eyes of many.. I wonder if love can ever live there.. Once an optimist, I realise that my dreams for the world may not become a reality in my lifetime... Once an optimist, I try to celebrate the lives of those who die everyday, but I cannot... I did not know them.. they are faceless.. How can I celebrate their lives, when all I can do is mourn? Once an optimist, I sit here and realise that optimism is a luxury that many cannot afford...

Today I write as innocent people continue to be massacred across the globe - most in the name of politics... My heart bleeds for all the civilians who have been killed as collateral damage in unjust wars...

But as I write, the elephants continue to fight and the ground continues to suffer... as I write someone somewhere has just been gunned down... and as I write, someone somewhere doesn't care :-(

An open letter to those of whom we do not speak...

Dear Despots,



Thanks to you, I decided to stay home as the world revelled on the 31st of December 2010... Yes, a rather crap year was in its last hours (The memory of the 2010 FIFA World Cup only a blur of bad debt by then), but I couldn't celebrate... It's not that I didn't particularly want to. It just felt like I had reached my pit-stop, that I should take a breather before I embarked on what I hoped would be an amazing 2011.. Yes, the idealist in me not-so-secretly hoped that 2011 would be the year that the ever elusive world peace became a reality.. I needed my rest. No partying for me.



You might be wondering what this all has to do with you.. It's not like you care much for the plight of the ordinary person anyway... Not least one whose passion is the one thing you love most to destroy: human rights... Well, that's just it! My not-so-dear Despots.. This letter is to you..



On 31 December 2010, as many a middle-class spawn partied up a mini storm, explosions tore through Nigeria, 60 women were brutally raped by members of the military and militia in the Eastern DRC, Cote d'Ivoire teetered on the brink of collapse... As many a person partied up a mini storm on December 31st 2010, thousands across the world caught their last breath... killed, tortured, maimed... Some died physically, most died emotionally and spiritually. Their dignity stripped off them leaving them bare... As many partied up a mini storm on December 31st 2010, the world began to burn... You, the arsonists, drank your overpriced champagne and plotted your future as many lamented their present...



On 1 January 2011, the sun arose and with it a tempestuous new dawn... Ben Ali of Tunisia was toppled, Hosni Mubarak soon followed... The people had had enough... they were tired of typing out their sentiments and living at the mercy of greedy despots... they - like phoenixes risen from the ashes - got up and stayed up until their desires were met... Or were they? Tunisia and Egypt remain unstable... the rest of the region is catching fire... burning fervently and so close to the devil's cauldron... Born of violence many shall die of violence.. so the adage goes...



I have decided to stain my satellite view of Africa with red ink... it symbolises the blood that continues to be let in our people's struggle for their right to be human.. It marks the pain and suffering that no one should ever go through. The raw and gaping wounds that you have caused. It marks your legacy dear despots..



As the sun rose on 1 January 2011 I wondered: Will this decade usher in a new dawn? Will we rid ourselves of the choke-hold of our "leaders"... The sun has not set... When you're gone, dear despots... we may rest... and maybe I too will party up a mini storm on the eve of 2012... One can only dream *sigh*



Yours insincerely,



Sick & Tired

Lend me your eyes... those who can read

So... the United Nations has revealed that Zimbabwe has the highest literacy rate in Africa (again!). While I am not surprised, I must admit that I hadn't given this much thought in recent years... Like myself, sometime during the decade-long downward spiral into economic nothingness, people just decided to forget that the country was packed with a multitude of people who can not only read and write, but would put any young ASBO from Bristol to shame with their literary prowess... "So - you might ask - What's your damn point? Why the unnecessary waffling? Get to it already".. Well, a friend asked me what significance this literacy has - if any - and why the "smart" people of Zimbabwe are not using it to pull the country up... This question.. as with most, turned into a debate (or shall I search for a synonym and call it a "deliberation") on whether there is a correlation between literary intelligence and socio-political and economic success....

.... I found myself (as often is the case) coming to the defense of Zimbabwe... I toyed with crossing the line into a barrage of ruling party propaganda on how my beloved country is the victim of a neo-colonial pseudo-paternalistic political game of squash (Yes, it's all a game in my eyes) that prevents people from reaching their full potential - even though they can read food labels.. Then I realised just how close I had actually gone to suggesting that Zimbabweans (myself 101% included) were blameless...

So the question again: What have we done with our amazing (if not outright astonishing... there I go with the synonyms again!) literacy rate? The answer is really quite simple.. We have all gone and done the chicken run... Some of us have physically left the country, others have done so metaphorically. I'm no patriot and tend to steer clear of ballot boxes... I suspect there's a phobia that I could google and use as an excuse, but I won't. As much as I want my country of descent to prosper, I - like the millions of my fellow countryfolk "outside" the country - am rather self-serving. I want to prosper more... It's selfish. I know.

So while the majority of us sit back and just watch the country decay - mostly on flat screens bought on credit - we leave the others, the ones that are cancerous parasites, to gobble up as much of the national pie as they can.... meanwhile, the rest of us are seemingly too complacent to want to fight the leeches or summon back those in the diaspora... We are ALL to blame...

Yet I like to think we can all at some stage come together and help our country prosper. We have the building blocks right before us, but simply don't know what to do with them... instead of building a bridge (or a house for that matter) we are hawking off each brick to whoever is willing to pay... If in this brief analogy the letters C*H*I*N*A (in that order) flashed in your mind's eye... then three points for you.. must be that literacy rate at work... We need to work towards utilizing what we have to benefit us - not only as individuals, but as a nation.

Let's face it, we operate in a highly politicized neo-imperialistic world. We need more than just the ability to read to be able to survive and prosper. We need SPINE. We have a lot of work to do to rebuild what was once the regional bread basket. A lot of work. We're moving slowly, but it can be done...

I have a dream - a Martin Luther King Jr kind of pragmatic idealistic dream - that one day African states' representatives will be able to walk into the negotiating room and say "If you don't meet such and such a demand we will NOT sell you our tobacco.. our tea.. our oranges.. our roses.. our chrome... our gold... our platinum... our diamonds... but never our souls". We are just not there yet... Disappointingly, we are too used to being "politically insignificant" to realise that political strength in 2010 comes from economic strength {and despite what George W Bush might have made you believe during his 8year reign... being book smart helps too!}...

Please note that I am not completely disillusioned and appreciate that with the global political "playground" as it is, it's unlikely that the intelligentsia of a "poor" Sub-Saharan African country will one day effect a paradigm shift some time after having their breakfast... but like I said: MLK Jr.

Thank you for lending me your eyes... you can have them back now.. and, if you'll excuse me... I must go read.

Even the devil needs an advocate... at least in black and white...

There's a lot of noise going on in Zimbabwe and in Zimbabwean circles abroad over the promulgation of Regulations that require 51% indigenous ownership of companies... Most of the people seem to be against this... many are saying this heralds the beginning of yet another end... just as the jam was beginning to taste sweet, people are starting to lament the possibility of an end to stocked store shelves and imported goods... Maybe it's just me, but this indigenisation plan is not all bad... yes... I'm playing devil's advocate here... sue me...

To be fair over 90% of the Zim population is indigenous ... why then should they not be permitted to take ownership of companies operating within their country's borders? Yes, from a macro-economic neo-imperialistic viewpoint it makes for bad logic, but for how long must we labour under the yoke of our dependency syndrome? Honestly?

I see foreign "investors" shaking in their leather boots, getting nauseatingly uneasy in their chairs, wondering whether in two months time they will still be eating off the Zimbabwean plate as they have been doing for decades now... whether their piece of the pie will be enough to buy that little island in the Caribbean and dock some snazzy yachts to go with them... That is not all I see though... I also see money hungry and greedy indigenous businesspeople sharpening their knives... they smell the clotting blood... it is finally their time to prey on the carcass of Zimbabwe and soon they will have a huge chunk of it all to themselves...

To whose benefit have these Regulations been made really? From where I sit poor Zimbabweans continue to lose out, while their country bleeds out their wealth... The Regulations will undoubtedly curb the enthusiasm of the Chinese and the West.. but will ALL Zimbabweans benefit? The Asian Tigers are a great example of indigenisation working wonders for a country... but is this the example that my beloved country will follow? Or will it be a case of the rich getting richer...

Indigenization is not necessarily a bad thing... for Zimbabwe, it might be a case of bad timing that will see this plan falter (what with the rampant corruption and nepotism that exists), but when is the right time anyway? Shall we wait and see how this goes first before we lament yet another death of Zimbabwe? Maybe it'll work out well... maybe it won't...

The knife cuts both ways

I have been on a writing hiatus and have particularly not said much insofar as Zimbabwean politics is concerned... but following the death of the Prime Minister Tsvangirai's wife on Friday 06 March, I have been drawn into the fold.

Now, FTR I do not condone the deaths of many - caused by the cholera outbreak, hunger and alleged political violence - or the fact that our country is suffering from hyper-hyper inflation (currently pegged at 231 million percent - who knew that was possible?!)... and we're not even at war! I, however, cannot deny that President Mugabe - from a pan-Africanist, revolutionary struggle, rights to land perspective - has a point.. but for the purposes of this article I shall not delve into the complex intricacies of land reform, land tenure rights and land ownership rights... google is your friend in that regard..

The purpose of my note is not to play devil's advocate, but to clear the air and to help people have a more objective outlook on the situation in my beloved motherland.
While, Zimbabwe has been ready for "change" for nearly a decade now, I don't think a politically immature former weaver is our redemption. You are free to criticize me on this, but first hear me out...

On Friday 06 March 2009 at around 16.00 (Local Harare time), Mrs Susan Tsvangirai and her husband were involved in a car accident caused by a collision with a USAID truck that had veered into the wrong lane. Both the US and the UK have expressed their deepest sympathies and have declared the incident an accident. WAIT one bloody African minute... so when it's a US/UK truck that collides into a government official's car it's an accident, but all other high-profile road deaths were orchestrated by ZANU PF? Seriously now..

But that's not even the point of my article... the point is that the Government of national unity (GNU - read "ZANU PF led government") has been condemned by the media and lay arm-chair critics for not providing the "second most important man in Zimbabwe" sufficient protection. I too would have argued this had Tsvangirai himself not rejected a GNU motorcade and state-sponsored security personnel, alleging that he is not "comfortable" with the GNU yet and that he fears that the security forces are still under Mugabe's control... So, while the death of ANYONE is saddening and is a reminder of just how easily life can be taken from us, Tsvangirai is not entirely blameless here. He had the option of greater protection, but instead opted for a 3car motorcade (with cars not designed for security purposes). For one, Barack Obama will tell you that when you suddenly become "important" you need the most protection you can get.

Let's not topple the already fragile GNU by alleging conspiracies... sometimes accidents do actually happen... and if it indeed wasn't an accident, I think people should be considering that the truck was a USAID truck, driven by an employee of USAID and not an axe-brandishing war-veteran. However, Given the speculations, it is clear that a credible, independent investigation into the car accident is needed. The results of this investigation will help settle the matter expeditiously... and then we can get to the business of reconstructing Zimbabwe.

Remember... knives cut both ways...

That said... can the change promised start already...

Those rose-tinted glasses: Shall I watch my Zimbabwe whither?

I love my country... I'm sure my previous rant about my Zim pride shows that enough. However, I find myself feeling terribly helpless when news from home reaches me or when I am deeply disturbed by images of poverty and strife. And yet, here I am self-professed humanitarian and human rights activists deciding that I'd rather another year here in South Africa than face the vagaries of home. I wish there was something I could do, but all my parents have taught me is the "flight" before "fight".... How you ask?
When ESAP hit my beautiful country... our family moved to Switzerland, we stayed there until - it only makes sense to me now - the drought years seemed over.. And then in 2000, there was a Constitutional Referndum and white commercial farmers were dispossessed of their land... my family moved to France. I am not using my own parents cowardice as a veil from which to hide behind, but I am suggesting that they have inculcated in me a chicken run mentality. For can I really love Zimbabwe if subconsciously I am planning to emigrate back to my adoptive country of Switzerland upon completion of my post-graduate studies? Or am I one of those arm-chair commentators who pretend to grieve but would rather someone else sort out the problem? Am I not part of THAT generation of people that the world claims will make a change? Or have I been made to run away from that too?

I feel like a feral child where Zimbabwe is concerned, I look at it through rose tinted glasses and as it whithers I somehow see it grow. I constantly tell people what a beautiful country it is and yet I fail to understand how such a country can be filled with such complacent borderline despondent people.. Almost as if all the masochists were born to live in Zimbabwe. For how can all the action we do be signing online petitions that clearly go nowhere?

I have a nephew, poor sod was born in 2001 and thus doesn't really know the vibrant Zimbabwe of yesteryear.... who upon his first visit to what I consider the dirtiest, ugliest city in South Africa (Johannesburg), called me and said: "Aunty OT, their lights don't go off all the time here!"... It was then, that I realised I couldn't just run away from my country without some sort of a fight. I can't just sit back and watch the next generation be engulfed in the rot that is the economic and political situation of my homeland. Zimbabwe remains a beautiful country, slowly being made to decay by people whose only concern is themself.

I still feel helpless, but I shan't be for much longer... my tunnel has light at its end and I have started to run towards it, for crawling will get me there too late and bruise my knees and my ego... I am running, running back to the Zimbabwe my parents made me return to for those brief two years in 1998.

From whence my fire burns

I have a little something that I will share with you all on xenophobia..

"I'm from Zimbabwe *jeers in the peanut gallery* and I'm very proud of the fact *more jeers*Being Zimbabwean doesn't make me a stereotype of the Southern African country from which I hail. My nationality is but a tip of the vast Ottilia iceberg.

I have grown up aware of my "Zimness", but it was never something that brought (brings?) me shame.Growing up a 3rd culture child, no one defined me as "The Zimbabwean Girl", I was Ottilia. I was the class clown, the wise-cracker, the grunge-addicted child with mild OCD, the sketch artist, the one who always smiled and often burst into tears for no apparent reason... THAT was Ottilia!

Xenophobia was something I didn't even know existed... It wasn't possible to be xenophobic in the environment in which I grew up.. It just wasn't possible when you were surrounded by "foreigners"; when your closest "relative" was your father's Italian peer. Being xenophobic would have meant hating myself... Paradoxically - or not so - to me xenophobia is nothing but an external projection of your own internal nonacceptance of yourself. The xenophobic dogmatically justify their "beliefs" by arguing or supposing that by being "different" linguistically, ethnically or nationally then surely the "other" is not worthy of similar regard to those of your own kind... never mind the artificiality of the borders that separate us...

You're Zimbabwean, you look different, you even smell different (!), you're not one of "us" and so I hate you. You hate me for being Zimbabwean even before you know me... Xenophobia became a reality for me at Rhodes - "The hub of multiculturalism, where 'leaders learn'". Never before had I felt ashamed to be me... being Zimbabwean is what I was, what I am and at Rhodes I found myself not wanting to be me... but fortunately only for a brief moment in my freshman naivete... In lectures when I introduced myself there would be jeers... How could I possibly be Zimbabwean some asked.. You speak so well, they said. You are classy, some intoned. Who knew that Zimbabweans were classless people with a speech defect? Certainly not me!

A then "close" friend once said to me:"You look South African, why not tell people you're from here? Why identify with the Zimbabweans? You're so much better than them!"I was speechless, so much so that I have not been able to utter more than a "hello" to this person I once called my "friend" - after all, I was Zimbabwean and proud of it to boot... how then would he be able to introduce me to his "better" South Africans? Surely he would suffer the ridicule that he associated with Zimbabweans?

I come from a country with the highest recorded literacy rate in Sub-Saharan Africa. A country where you are greeted with a smile wherever you go. A country where every older woman is your "aunty" and older man your "uncle", where your neighbour is your friend... I come from a country where the wealth extends beyond the resources straight to the people and where the sun shines even as it rains. I come from a country rich with culture and heritage. Don't jeer when I say I am from Zimbabwe.

Don't let your fear of my intelligence manifest into hate, allow that fear to make you desire to better yourself as a person not because I am the "other". Don't look at me and wonder where I'm from and hope I won't say Zimbabwe. Look at me and see a human being, see Ottilia. Look at me and wonder what music I might like, what literature I enjoy, what drives me.. Don't look at me and try to (un)stereotype me. I am NOT your stereotype! I am a proud Zimbabwean, with a character as unique as yours.

I am tired of the snide remarks about Zimbabwe and its people. I seek your empathy, your acceptance (even though I really shouldn't). I want to feel that I am surrounded by leaders and not by xenophobic bigots. I am a Pisces... I am allowed to dream...