Posted on 02/14/2003 9:45:34 PM PST by Clive
Laughter in the wind
Friday 14th February 2003
Dear Family and Friends,
My phone rang early one morning this week. It was a friend who was leaving for the airport. She and her family are emigrating. We did not talk for long, neither of us wanted to actually say that awful word "goodbye" because we both knew we would cry. Instead the words were the usual ridiculous ones which say nothing but mean everything. Words which were really a scream of "Oh God, I wish you didn't have to go". I didn't cry then but am now as I type.
Linda and her family are farmers. For three years they have waited to be allowed to grow food but it has not happened and they have no other option but to leave. Farming is all they know. Their house, business, assets and land have been taken over by a government heavyweight. They have received no compensation, were not allowed back to say goodbye and their memories remain only as laughter in the wind. They have left behind their home, their lives, their friends and 40 years of service in providing food for their country.
When I lived through the hell of an invaded farm and the incessant harassment and humiliation from the mob of men who took over our lives, I think the only thing that kept me sane every day was to watch the sunrise. It's three years ago now but I can still see that view in my mind. The peach tree covered with pink blossoms outside my study window. The weaver birds nests hanging and swinging gently in the breeze, the magnificent dawn chorus and then the eerie silence as the spectacular red ball of sun appeared over the horizon. That view has gone forever now but it's been replaced by another and it is that which I look to every morning to try and find peace within myself and courage to face another day of doing what I do.
My house overlooks the African bush. The dawn mist hangs low in a distant field, francolins call noisily as they patrol the grassland and a crested barbet taps incessantly at his nest in the dead tree in my front garden. This is one of the reasons I stay in Zimbabwe. Another is the sudden and unexpected pride in your country which comes when you least expect it.
There haven't been many occasions in the last three years when I can honestly say that I've been proud to be a Zimbabwean. That all changed this week when Henry Olonga and Andy Flower walked up to the press box at the Harare Sports Club shortly before the World Cup Cricket match against Namibia started. They were both wearing black armbands and they presented a press statement explaining that they were in mourning for the death of democracy in Zimbabwe.
Their one page statement said it all, the hunger, oppression, torture and lawlessness which has become a part of every minute of every day in our country. Their bravery has been such an inspiration this week and has given us the strength to continue fighting for democracy in Zimbabwe. The closing sentence of their statement is echoed by us all and reads: "We pray that our small action may help to restore sanity and dignity to our nation."
So, while army tanks and armed soldiers guard Heathrow airport and Americans buy plastic sheeting to protect their homes from possible air borne diseases, Zimbabweans wait for more people to display their courage and say no to fear and oppression.
It's not an easy thing to get over this huge shroud of fear that is suffocating our country. This morning our suburbs are littered with hundreds of pamphlets. Printed in red, on one side is a list all the things that are wrong in Zimbabwe. On the reverse a list of things we can do. The first thing is: "Show courage and do not be afraid."
Passers by are reading the pamphlets, some are being brave enough to pick them up and stuff them hastily in their pockets. It is a start. We haven't got soldiers to guard us or policemen to protect us but more and more Zimbabweans are looking into their hearts and finding ways to overcome the fear. "We have suffered enough" are the closing words on the pamphlets and they say it all. One of these mornings Zimbabweans will wake up and watch our majestic red dawn knowing that the madness is over. We pray it will be soon.
Until next week, with love, cathy.
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