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Zimbabwe was once seen as one of the success stories of Africa after colonialism. But there are pictures which still tell a tale of division. In 1999, the issues are black and white, but also about class, writes Andrew Meldrum
The Harare Club’s teak-panelled walls speak of years of tradition, privilege and exclusivity, dating back to its founding in 1896. The Salisbury Club, as it was known then, was the social centre for the white men who lived well as they imposed their rule over the country’s black majority.
Today, the main staircase is lined with portraits of the club’s past chairmen – all of them white.
Ceiling fans turn lazily as black barmen in starched white jackets serve pink gins, gin and tonics, and cold Castle beers to a group of older men sitting around a table. Holding sway is the wiry, squinty Ian Smith, who ran white- minority Rhodesia from 1964 until 1980. He can be heard complaining about the corruption in President Robert Mugabe’s government, rising crime and inflation and the perfidious British who caused all this to happen by refusing to recognise white-ruled Rhodesia.
Around him several old cronies, including a few former members of his Cabinet, cluck and mutter agreement. They are not a loud or lively group, but somehow they command the centre of attention in the members’ bar. Glum and fusty, the Harare Club appears to be the last bastion of white colonialism in Zimbabwe.
But then in strides Ambrose Chikukwa, tall, robust and black. A prominent businessman and well-known member of the club, he greets several different parties at the bar. He tells a few jokes punctuated by a hearty, infectious laugh. More people arrive for pre-lunch drinks, and a few more black members join different groups. The mood lightens, and Ian Smith’s round table is now pushed to the periphery of the good- natured, multiracial camaraderie at the bar.
Times have changed in Zimbabwe – and so has the Harare Club. Blacks now make up about 25% of the membership, and this percentage is rising. Chikukwa is on the club’s executive committee. “I’ve been integrating clubs for as long as I can remember,” he chuckles. “I’ve been the first black at tennis clubs, golf clubs and the Rotary Club.
“At first, the whites don’t think I will have a good time or fit in. But I do have a good time, and before long there are lots of other black members. It’s natural. I don’t feel there is any place in my country where I cannot go and be comfortable.”
This easy confidence and self-assurance have been hard won. After excelling at secondary school in Rhodesia in the 1950s, Chikukwa won a scholarship to Stanford University, in California. He returned to Rhodesia in 1961, when racial tensions were high, and got a good job at the United States Information Service. The whites at the office did not want him to share the same teacups, so he brought his own cup and saucer. “One day, I came in to find a white girl drinking from my cup, and I was furious. I said I didn’t want to drink from that cup any more, and I smashed it!” he recounts. “That really shook things up. The American boss came and said this discrimination nonsense must stop. From then on, those whites realised I was not a fellow to be played with.
“They also tried to keep me from using the men’s toilet, but that didn’t work, either.”
Chikukwa (59) has cleared every discriminatory hurdle in his path. Now, he simply dismisses those who stood in his way. “Ian Smith comes to the club and we don’t bother with him. I have greeted people he is with and shaken hands with them. But I ignore Ian Smith. Why should I speak to him?” asks Chikukwa. “He caused a great deal of suffering and is responsible for many problems that we still have today.”
Although he mixes easily with whites, Chikukwa believes that many have decided to stick to themselves. “It was a good thing to have reconciliation, but nobody did enough to promote real reconciliation. Maybe we should have had a Truth and Reconciliation Commission, like in South Africa. That would have been good to build a foundation for better relations. Too many whites stick to their old Rhodesian attitudes. It is up to people to change those attitudes.”
Cranky and tough, Smith (79) clings to the belief that his attempt to maintain white minority rule was right. He accepts that there are black members at the Harare Club more easily than he can accept that Mugabe is running the country. “When there are those who meet the standards of the Harare Club and mix well with members, then it is wonderful,” he says tersely, showing little joy at the fact. When it is pointed out that he has not been seen mixing with black members, he becomes more defensive.
“I have a few black friends,” he says, “but only a few, because our culture is different. We have different ways.”
The sitting room of his comfortable but not lavish Harare home appears to have been frozen in time 30 years ago. Photographs and memorabilia from his stint as a Royal Air Force pilot in World War II and his time as Rhodesia’s prime minister are on display among landscape paintings and some African curios. The room is impeccably clean, but it seems that nothing has changed for some time, probably since Smith’s wife Janet died several years ago. Certainly, nothing has changed in Smith’s outlook.
Asked if he could have taken a more moderate, conciliatory path that would have avoided the bitter war which took 40 000 lives and would have allowed for better race relations today, Smith becomes riled.
“No, I could not have done things differently,” he says adamantly. “I don’t apologise for what has happened. It is a twist of the truth to say that I did not take a moderate path. Absolutely ludicrous! Look here, I tried. I negotiated with the British. We were trying to develop standards, to educate the black man gradually. But we were forced by the British government to give that up. If we had been allowed to continue, we would have succeeded. We would have had majority rule in about 12 years.”
Smith’s suggestion that his Rhodesian Front government was working for a gradual achievement of majority rule is not supported by historical record. He has conveniently forgotten his infamous vow that “never in a thousand years” would he agree to majority rule.
Of course there are many Zimbabweans, whites included, who heap scorn on Smith’s splutterings and hold him responsible for having taken the country to war and having refused negotiated compromises that would have ended the violence. Instead, Smith used his considerable political skills to keep Rhodesia’s white population in conflict with the black majority.
Elsewhere, race relations are, on the surface, good. Black and white Zimbabweans, as well as other ethnic groups such as Asians and those of mixed race, get along easily on city streets, in shops and in other public places. The country is remarkably free of palpable racial tensions and animosities.
But resentment breeds in the tremendous economic gap between the grinding poverty experienced by the average black Zimbabwean and the comfort and luxury enjoyed by the majority of the white population.
Pockets of white racism still exist, although they are increasingly covert, and there is a not-so-hidden block of black anger. But between those two poles, there is a growing area where Zimbabweans of all shades find common interests.
The country’s white population reached its peak in the late 1960s at about 275 000. As the Rhodesian war ground on, a stream of whites left the country, so that when Zimbabwe finally reached majority rule in 1980, there were about 120 000 whites. Today, the white population is estimated at 70 000 – less than 1% of the country’s 12-million people.
At independence in 1980, Mugabe dramatically announced a policy of racial reconciliation, and Zimbabwe became the shining alternative to South Africa’s apartheid system. The country’s citizens began living side by side, with equal rights – although the white minority still retained the property and wealth amassed during the Rhodesian era.
Mugabe enjoyed a reputation as a statesman of international stature for urging that differences should be put aside to allow the building of a new country. But today, it is Mugabe himself who is seen as the main threat to racial harmony. Dramatic economic decline has made his government decidedly unpopular with urban blacks. It has become openly repressive, banning strikes and demonstrations.
To distract attention from these problems, Mugabe has resorted to blatantly anti-white rhetoric calculated to stir up old resentments and bitterness. On February 6, in response to numerous international protests against the illegal arrest and torture of two Zimbabwean journalists, Mugabe made an extraordinary address to the nation on state television. Not only did he implicitly condone the use of torture and attack the judiciary for trying to hold his government to the rule of law, he also tried to blame the entire crisis on the country’s whites.
“Some white people of British extraction have been planted in our midst to undertake acts of sabotage aimed at affecting the loyalty of not just our people in general, but also that of the vital arms of government, like the army, so these can turn against the legitimate government of this country,” said Mugabe, wagging his finger in warning.
“They are bent on ruining the national unity and loyalty of our people and their institutions. But we will ensure that they do not ever succeed in their evil machinations. Let me state this emphatically: they have pushed our sense of racial tolerance to the limit. Let them be warned that unless their insidious acts of sabotage immediately cease, my government will be compelled to take very stern measures against them and those who have elected to be their puppets.”
Land is the main issue in which Mugabe has attempted to reduce a complex problem to black against white.
During the Rhodesian era, black families were stripped of their ancestral land by the white government. They were paid no compensation and were herded on to reserves in arid, less fertile areas. Impoverished rural blacks supported Mugabe and his nationalist guerrillas in their fight against Rhodesia because they were promised they would get their land back.
Today, nearly 20 years after independence, that promise remains unfulfilled. About 4 500 white farmers control nearly half the country’s farmland. Meanwhile, more than seven million black peasants are crowded on to the remaining, much less fertile land. The land reform began well in the 1980s, but the government seemed to run out of steam in carrying it through. Since 1980, some 60 000 families have been resettled on previously white-owned farms – but that is far short of the more than one million rural households estimated to need new land.
Sensing that his rural support is flagging, Mugabe has seized on the land issue once again. In the past two years, he has given a series of inflammatory speeches on the subject. Avoiding any responsibility for the stalled land reform, he blamed his inactivity on the British government and on the white farmers themselves.
Although in September 1989 the international community offered to assist the government in a gradual land-reform process, Mugabe has persisted in pressing for a radical seizure of land without full compensation to whites. Then, following a round of vitriolic speeches from the president to Zimbabwe’s rural peasants last year, a wave of barefoot squatters invaded numerous white-owned farms claiming the land as their own.
Owen Connor, a farmer in the Goromonzi area, sits in his study behind barred gates. Grimly he recounts how a few hundred squatters invaded his farm in November and disrupted planting. They gathered at the security fence around his house and played drums all night, dancing and singing, “The old white man must go.” His telephone lines were cut, his workers were beaten, and he received death threats. “We were warned not to dare to go on to the fields where the squatters have planted about six hectares of maize,” Connor says. “We left those fields alone and were busy with the rest of our land – about 300ha where we grow maize, potatoes and soya beans. I have farmed this land for more than 40 years – I am not going to give in to these squatters now.
“I’m not prepared to leave this farm unless they spill my blood.” Moments later Connor admits: “I am afraid for my life. I’m nervous.”
With bare light bulbs, cement floors and battered furniture, the farmhouse depicts a life of hard work and practical pleasures. There are placards written by the squatters telling Connor to leave. “The squatters claim that they were on this land and were kicked off,” he says.
“But I dispute that. I came here in 1942 and there were very few fields that had been under cultivation. The previous owner had been here since 1920. I’m very disappointed with the government. Since 1980, they’ve been playing around with the land issue, but these people have not been resettled. They could have trained them so they could do more than just subsistence farming, but they haven’t. Now they are blaming us.”
There is an eerie atmosphere of lingering confrontation and antagonism at the farmhouse. It might only be a matter of time before a farmer like Connor is killed. In November last year, an elderly white widow was murdered and her house burned down. By all accounts, Sylvia Jackson was a tough woman who had the grudging respect of many, but whose tart comments had alienated others.
As it turned out, Jackson was killed by her gardener, not by the squatters occupying some of the land she claimed was hers. Her sad story seems to come straight out of a Doris Lessing novel. It highlights the fated, historical drama being played out over Zimbabwe’s rolling land, pitting white and black against each other.
Elsewhere, however, the situation is far more optimistic. At Prince Edward School, Zimbabwe’s top government educational establishment, boys of all races wear colonial-era blazers, ties and straw boaters. They attend classes together, in addition to playing cricket, rugby, football and many other sports.
In Rhodesia, Prince Edward was the premier government school for whites. Shortly after independence, it went virtually all black, but now the school has an enrolment of about 80% black and 20%white, Asian and mixed race. The headmaster, Clive Barnes, has succeeded in keeping white graduates from the Rhodesian era interested in the school’s welfare. To mark the school’s centenary last year, a wealthy alumnus donated a multimillion-dollar computer centre.
A stroll on the school’s playing fields any afternoon finds the students playing together, having soft drinks and just hanging out, as boys do. There are some groups of all whites and others of all blacks, but overall the school enjoys an atmosphere that encourages mixing and equality.
The growing dissatisfaction with the Mugabe regime is a common cause, with many groups now joining forces to push for a more accountable government. The trade unions, church groups, women’s groups, lawyers associations, human rights groups and gay rights groups are increasingly working together. Recently, anti- war demonstrators of all races tightly held each other’s arms so as not to be taken away by riot police. At a human rights march, blacks and whites carried banners together.
Perhaps the most encouraging sign in Zimbabwe today is the coalition of blacks and whites who have gathered to form the National Constitutional Assembly, a group calling for a democratically drafted Constitution. Since 1980, most of Zimbabwe’s whites have stayed out of politics, but now a band of dedicated human rights activists, both black and white, are spearheading the movement to get the Zimbabwean public involved in creating a new Constitution.
A lively party of a few hundred Zimbabweans is taking place at Harare’s Pan-African restaurant. Black families are gathered around tables to eat a meal of chicken, vegetables and sadza (Zimbabwe’s staple food, a stiff maize-meal porridge). At each table there is at least one white university student.
The students are from the United States and have spent six months studying in Zimbabwe and living with local families. This party is to thank these families for their hospitality. There are toasts and heartfelt speeches. There is hugging and kissing and lots of dancing. Everyone is having a good time.
“Zimbabwe is amazing! Look at all of us. I am so gratified to have been `adopted’ by a wonderful family,” says Lauren Caldarera (21), a red- haired Texan student. “My family has been very kind to me, and as we got to know each other, things just got better and better.”
Like the other students in the programme, Caldarera lived in Harare’s townships or in working-class suburbs that are virtually all black. She says she felt safe travelling in the commuter vans used by blacks to get around Harare. “Usually people did not pay much attention to me, unless they heard me speak Shona, and then they would want to speak to me,” she says. “My family lives in a completely black neighbourhood, and I felt very comfortable. People pretty much accept me. I feel at home here. In fact, I spend most of my time in Harare’s black areas.
“I don’t think race is such an important issue here. The big differences are class differences. For instance, I have an African friend who is very middle class. She is horrified that I ride in the commuter vans with everyone else. She says she would find riding in the vans degrading. She would worry that her friends would see her. You see, it is not a racial difference – it is a class difference.”
Caldarera recently visited South Africa and found that relations between the races were much more limited. “In Johannesburg, the atmosphere is full of tension. It seems there is still a taboo on interactions beyond a certain line. In Zimbabwe, things are so much more open,” she says.
One woman stands out at the party. She is smartly dressed in a colourful African ensemble, and the plaits of her hair are decorated with small cowrie shells. But it is not Agnes Nyagato’s fashion sense that draws attention to her. It is the way she goes from table to table, from family to family, and speaks with them so engagingly. Nyagato is the co-ordinator of the School for International Training, the programme that places American students with the families. Outgoing and diplomatic, she specialises in smoothing out the differences between the families and their guests.
“It is a wonderful job because I like bringing people together,” says Nyagato. “Of course we have difficult times and frustrations, but usually we can overcome the problems. Relations between the races can be good if people make an effort. There is ignorance and fear on both sides, but with knowledge and good communication, those negative factors can be minimised. People find that when you get below the colour of our skin, we are all people.”
Nyagato has not always been so positive. “At independence, I felt very bitter, very negative. The whites had caused so much suffering, and I was still angry about that,” she says.
“But now I have seen more and have a more mature view. Race is all about differences such as economic status and cultural differences. Those differences can be overcome when people become more familiar with each other. Then they can get beyond stereotypes, and that’s good.”