MY days in the village with my grandparents were as phenomenal and poetic as the odes of the birds at sunset and daybreak. Everything there assumed a form, style, rhythm and a history. I was reminded everytime not to do things that would bring shame and suffering to the family. We walked, talked and worked in a family set up. There had to be a rhythm that exudes allegiance, conformity and loyalty.
BY TAPIWA GOMO
I am drawn to remember these experiences by what is happening in Zimbabwe today. My grandfather used to say birds make the most noise at daybreak and sunset. He liked saying when birds make the most noise, it is either they are in danger or it is daybreak or sunset. Noise from fear tends to be random and chaotic, while daybreak noise is melodious and soothing, as they (birds) churn tunes to welcome a new day.
The time for melodies in Zimbabwe is long gone, with the euphoric experiences that characterised post-independence hype. The noise that is emerging today suggests that the sun is setting. The hymns I hear today are genuinely sombre, purportedly ushering the tiring sun into the depth of the dark horizon. It is the political lullaby that says goodbye to a long scorching day to bury bad memories in the fantasy dreams of the night.
Several voices are naturally sprouting like the emerging stars defying the thickness of the darkness of the night. The murmurs are becoming louder than usual, as the fear of darkness is vanishing because the embrace of the night has become invertable. Fear is no more, as the night is upon us. Perpetual darkness has brought back people’s courage, as night is nothing, but the absence of the day.
As my grandfather would suggest, moments before sunset are special. Those moments do not just mark the end of the day, but prepare us for the beginning of a new one. But a new day need not to start before a review of the past. He always insisted that, that is the time one must know what to do the following day, and holding the thought firmly and that every sunset must see you closer to your goals. Dusk is also time to turn around and look back at the traces of your footprints, as they mark where the next day will begin.
Today, as I picture Zimbabwe in my grandfather’s frame, I see an interesting story of abject poverty walled by gold and diamond. It is a story that has evaded those of egos. I also see an ego that has chased away and externalised everything beautiful from our land into shores of our neighbours. It is an ego that has not trusted itself with itself such that it entrusts its wealth with strangers out of its borders.
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How do you see Zimbabwe at sunset? It is story hard to tell without offending the political egos because it is not a story of glory and harvest, but sorrow, shame and immense loss. It is a story of self-accelerated ageing, from opulence to poverty. We need to bring back our dreams.
At dawn, as we celebrated independence, the flowers were blooming and the farms were green, hunger and despair were words without meaning. But along the way, we chased the men and women who tilled the land to feed the nation to our neighbours. Today, as the sun sets, we have become beggars to our neighbours, who offered refuge to those who tilled our land. We cannot feed our people, but with lies. We chased the farmer out of our borders and we need to bring back our farmers.
At dawn, the future horizons are filled with hope, every boy and girl had dreams. We sent them to school to sharpen their skills and minds so their dreams can become the reality of the day, but alas. Today, as the sun sets, the brains and skills we so much invested in have fled and perpetual darkness and despair are cast on our land. Our land now survives over the generosity of its children, who fled to neighbouring lands for better opportunities. We chased our own skilled children out of their country.
It was at dawn, after spilling so much blood to regain our land and dignity, we saw milk and honey flowing. Our land was pregnant with minerals and plenty other natural resources. As the day began, ours was to exploit our natural blessings to enjoy the milk and honey. We laboured and sweated to extract the milk and the honey, but those holding the harvest bowls have perpetually leaked what is ours to the shores of our former settlers. Imprudent and betrayal characterised this day — our now ending day. We send our harvest from our resources to our neighbours to enjoy and yet we suffer. Zimbabwe, let’s bring back our wealth to our land.
Betrayal assumed a new meaning. Our leaders entrusted what they loot from their people to the same people they called imperialists, colonialists, oppressors and left our people, their people poor and hungry. At sunset, Zimbabwe is poor not because it never had, but because that wealth is stocked in the hands of our neighbours. We are hungry not because we don’t have, but we have a leadership that stocks our grain in the neighbours’ granary purportedly for future use. We have a leadership that believes our people can die of hunger today and eat later.
As the enormous sun lingers beyond the horizon, Zimbabwe need not be poor again. A new day and a new leadership must be born. A leadership that reignites our dreams, bring back our farmers and miners, attracts our children back home and brings back our billions of dollars stagnant in offshore account. When these come together, the dawn of a new day will be invertible. Maybe our people shall dance and rejoice again like birds set free from a cage as the new sun rises. As the sun set, bring back our joy.
●Tapiwa Gomo is a development consultant based in Pretoria, South Africa
