For a first-time visitor the reasons why Zimbabwe has garnered so much negative international publicity are not immediately apparent — many have commented on how normal everything appears.
Harare’s roads have lots of smart new cars, the fashionable suburbs still look good and one does not have a sense of vulnerability to violence on the streets. Indeed, one of the strange things about what is happening in Zimbabwe is the facade of normality that covers the turmoil.
Visitors from neighbouring countries think Zimbabweans still have it good and are a bunch of spoiled whiners. It seems to confirm the contention that Zimbabwe and President Robert Mugabe have become world pariahs only because of the discomfort caused to a privileged white farming community.
The reality is that by every socio-economic measure, the Zimbabwe of today is a mere shadow of what it was two or three years ago. To friends from neighbouring countries who take the view that talk of a collapsing economy is alarmist nonsense given how much better things appear here than in other countries, my response is that the measure should be where Zimbabwe is, compared to where it was and could be.
Even taking into account the inevitable hiccups in the necessary transition from a race-based colonial past to a majority-based economic dispensation, today’s Zimbabwe is not a good model of transformation. Whites who have been dispossessed of their farms may be expected to moan about loss of privilege, but economic decline has affected everyone and it is “the landless black majority” that suffers the most from the ruinous policies of Mugabe.
It is one thing to have the raw statistics that detail the socio-economic decline of Zimbabwe, but quite another to appreciate how they translate into everyday experiences.
Inflation hovers at about 120%. The collapse of commercial agriculture, the decimation of much of industry and the country’s isolation from foreign donors has led to an acute foreign currency crisis.
This has put many of the foreign components necessary for the manufacture of goods out of reach of many companies. For several months now, sugar, mealie meal and cooking oil have not been readily available on grocery shelves. When they are, there are stampedes and it is no longer unusual to see long winding queues.
Towns have taken on a tattier look and reports of raw sewage are common. Minibus operators have taken over whole stretches of streets.
Because of the costs of spare parts, many minibus operators are failing to keep their aged fleets on the road.
Streetkids and beggars on the roads are an increasingly common sight and they have become more brazen in proportion to the compassion fatigue of motorists and pedestrians also reeling from a wayward economy.
Smash-and-grab incidents at traffic lights are a relatively new but burgeoning phenomenon. A group of thieves will distract a motorist stopped at a red light and smash a car window, grabbing a cellphone, bag or other valuables.
Few bother to report such incidents because public confidence in the police is low. They frequently do not have vehicles to get to crime scenes, are overburdened by more serious crimes and are increasingly disrespected for being perceived by many to be partisan.
As more companies close or downsize, job opportunities have shrunk. Many have resorted to cross-border trading of one type or another to try to make ends meet.
There is a new, harder edge to Zimbabweans as existence increasingly becomes a matter of survival of the fittest.
As if economic problems and drought were not enough to contend with, HIV/Aids slashes through society. Absences from work owing to illness or to attend funerals are increasing. It is impossible to measure how the dispirited mood of the country affects mental health, but stress levels are high.
The general collective attitude towards Mugabe and his regime is one of sullen insolence.
There is a sense of not quite knowing what will come next, but I don’t know many people who think some positive miracle is just around the corner.
Chido Makunike is a freelance Zimbabwean journalist
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