A message of hope

Regular visitors will know that my husband's family has strong ties with Zimbabwe and that we follow what is happening there with great concern. For the first time in recent years, today's edition of the Bulawayo Morning Mirror carries a glimmer of hope:

JOYOUS TIMES

Its officially the rainy season in Zimbabwe, and rain is one thing that is sure to put a smile on everyone's lips !!
Matabeles especially live for the rain, rain-spotting is an age old pastime born of seasons of dry despair.

This year we have been warned that El Nino is going to rear his ugly head again, but so far we have had several nice little thunderstorms to keep us smiling.

This afternoon we had a glorious, gadget-destroying, typically Zimbabwean electrical storm, it was so fierce we had to galvanize the "Bucket Brigade" in our ancient old mansion.

Thirty mm in just thirty minutes, it was just divine in spite of the waterfall in the indoor garden. The rain flowers on the cactus have been extra specially spectacular, the flamboyants outdid themselves in their glory.

Soon it will be cassia time and those yellow flower laden trees will thrill us all with their glorious perfume.

It is just so exciting to be in Bulawayo this Christmas. Last year and the year before, Christmas was a non-event ... no Christmas parties .... no decorations ... no dried fruit for the cake .... no mince pies to be seen anywhere.

This year suddenly there is a real, almost festive feel. there are even a few Christmas parties, low key, but there are a few just the same.

Loads of new restaurants and coffee shops have opened up in Bulawayo, check the adverts in the Wining and Dining section in the Mirror !!

And what's more exciting is there is FOOD on the shelves.

We forget so easily, we forget that last year you could not buy a chicken or a loaf of bread unless you went under cover of darkness to the back door ! The shelves were empty, totally empty and the feeling of despair was real and gnawing.

The Zimbabwe dollar was running at hundreds of trillions, and you could only draw from the bank daily, enough for a loaf of bread, so life took on a desperate agonising face for many people who did not have the wherewithal to "make a plan"

Fuel was available only from drums kept at the bottom of the garden or on the black market. Now you can drive into a service station and say "fill her up" just like the good old days ! You can even get your oil and water checked, a simple service that we have not had in Zimbabwe for at least five years.

Doctors say that strokes and heart attacks as a result of these peculiar stresses have taken a serious toll on the Zimbabwe population over the past few years.

Last year there were no medical supplies available at all, to get one's daily chronic medication was so difficult, it was a serious medical stress in itself.Now all of ones needs are available if pricey.

I cannot believe we have forgotten those horrors so easily, all brought about by the stupidity of a frantic government that had lost its head.

Wickipaedia has Zimbabwe listed as "nationalizing its food industry", well this ill devised plan nearly nearly brought a once fine country to its knees.

But now with a new man at the Financial helm, with US dollars and Rands as open currency, we are heading for sanity once more, thanks be to God !!

There is still a long way to go, but so many valuable people are returning home, so many of our kids are determined to make their country their future.

The really bad places in the roads are slowly being repaired, there is such a buzz in town, its raining, and if we can continue to hold out against tyrants and troublemakers, the best is yet to come, what more could a man want ?

Wouldn't it be wonderful if this season of hope and peace could become a reality for everyone?

The power of honey

Put away your pills and lotions and try the honey and cinnamon cure.

I read all about it in today's edition of the Bulawayo Morning Mirror.


The magic of Honey

It is found that a mixture of Honey and Cinnamon cures most diseases. (Their words, not mine!)
ARTHRITIS
Take one part of Honey to two parts of lukewarm water and add a small teaspoon of Cinnamon powder. Make a paste and massage it on the itching part of the body slowly
Arthritis patients can take one cup of hot water with two spoons of Honey and one teaspoon of Cinnamon powder every day
HAIR LOSS
Apply a paste of hot Olive Oil, one tablespoon of Honey and one teaspoon of Cinnamon powder. Massage onto head and keep on for 10 to 15 minutes then wash off. Do regularly to alleviate hair loss or baldness
BLADDER INFECTIONS
Take two tablespoons of Cinnamon powder and one teaspoon of Honey in a glass of lukewarm water and drink to destroy germs in the bladder
CHOLESTEROL
Two tablespoons of Honey and three teaspoons of Cinnamon powder mixed in 16 ounces of tea, when given to a cholesterol patient it reduces the level of cholesterol in the blood by 10% within 2 hours
STOMACH UPSET
Honey taken with Cinnamon powder cures stomach ache and also cleans stomach ulcers from the root. It also relieves gas in the stomach
INFERTILITY
If men regularly take two tablespoons of Honey before sleeping it can help to resolve the problem
For women, a pinch of Cinnamon powder in half a teaspoon of Honey, applied to the gums frequently throughout the day, so that it mixes with saliva and enters the body, can help to strengthen the uterus and aid with fertility
IMMUNE SYSTEM
Daily use of Honey and Cinnamon powder strengthens the immune system and protects the body from bacteria and viral attacks. Also good for cancer etc patients and heart disease. Though sweet, Honey when taken moderately as a medicine, will not harm diabetic patients
SKIN INFECTIONS
A paste consisting of three tablespoons of Honey and one teaspoon of Cinnamon powder, when regularly applied to the skin can get rid of pimples, eczema, ringworm and all sorts of skin infections
WEIGHT LOSS
Every morning, on an empty stomach half an hour before breakfast, and again at night before sleeping, drink Honey and Cinnamon powder boiled in one cup of water
LONGEVITY
Tea made with Honey and Cinnamon powder, when taken regularly, arrests the ravages of old age, increases life span and makes you look and feel younger
LOSS OF HEARING
Honey and Cinnamon powder taken in equal parts daily, can restore hearing.

I wish I had discovered this before embarking on that year of chemotherapy and wouldn't you just know that it cures weight loss and not weight gain!

To a brave lady

This picture (from news.bbc.co.uk) shows Susan Tsvangirai, who was killed in a road accident in Zimbabwe last week. Hers was not an easy life but she provided support and inspiration for the people of Zimbabwe who long for freedom and justice.

The following tribute "To a brave lady" comes from today's issue of the Bulawayo Morning Mirror.

In one brief moment in time Susan Tsvangirai stepped out of this world and into the next leaving behind her a nation in mourning and a formidable legacy. For millions of us wherever we are in the world, she is and always will be the "mother who gave birth to not only six children but also to a new Zimbabwe". She stood by her man and her family through what we can only imagine as terrifying, treacherous, dangerous and life-threatening years, committed in mind, body and spirit to the cause; namely getting out there and doing whatever it took to fight the good fight to bring hope, love, guidance and leadership to her countrymen and women.

Saturday morning in Zimbabwe was somber. An underlying feeling of sadness mixed with anger at the injustice of it all. I spoke to some of you who were deeply upset and clearly the impact of this tragedy will be felt far and wide for a long, long time. As we go about our days I'm certain that the Tsvangirai family will be in our thoughts, and as such, we would do well to honor Susan's sacrifice by remembering that she dies a true heroine of Henry Olonga's "Our Zimbabwe", of our hearts and souls. She joins the sacrosanct list of those who will never be forgotten in the struggle for the promised land. With her legacy behind us, embedded within her birthright her qualities of love, patriotism, courage, humility and grace shall surely shore up our own strength and commitment to continue this long walk to freedom. Let her ultimate sacrifice remind us to look deeply and honestly into our own souls to ask the same question Susan's life answered with a resounding "Yes";

"In the evening of my life, I will look to the sunset.
And the question I will ask, only God can answer;
Was I brave and strong and true?
Did I fill the world with love my whole life through?"

We will not forget. We will not falter when called to make the sacrifices needed to make the difference so that at the end of our own lives we may look back and know that we did all we could, gave all we could and ultimately helped to spread the light which enveloped the darkness hanging over our beloved land. God Bless you, our Prime Minister, and the Tsvangirai children. Your loss is our loss. Your pain is felt throughout the world. You are not alone. You have never and will never walk alone. We pay tribute to a great lady, in our prayers, thoughts, and actions. We are so, so sorry.

In the same issue, you can read the statement issued by WOZA (Women of Zimbabwe Arise) on International Women's Day, 8th March. This statement gives a clear picture of the daily struggles of ordinary women in Zimbabwe, where life expectancy is now 34 years.

The ten billion dollar cucumber

I had just finished writing up the vegetable recipe when my newsletter from Zimbabwe arrived in my inbox. In today's message, Mags Kriel talks about fruit and vegetables too but her experience is a little different! The currency restrictions in Zimbabwe only allow people to withdraw enough money from their bank to buy one apple a week. Cucumbers cost ten billion Zim dollars so shopping for vegetables at the market has ceased.

As always, Maggie's article lets us know what daily life is like for the people in Zimbabwe but she retains her sense of humour. Check out the added interest given to driving on the roads of Bulawayo by people avoiding the police and a lack of lamps for the traffic lights!

When hope is all they have

I have had a wonderful Christmas Day with the house filled with love and laughter, good food and wine, lots of gifts and, above all, the family. Millie and her parents have gone back to their holiday cottage on Exmoor, Great-grandma has been taken home, the house is tidy and quiet once again. Husband and son have settled to watch Wallace and Gromit so I am here thinking about Christmas.

Last night, I went to Midnight Mass at the nearby Royal Marine base, just as news came in that one of their men had been killed in Afghanistan, the second young man from the base in just a few days. At least two families will have had a very hard day today. My thoughts were with them and all our troops and their families as we celebrated the birth of the child of hope.

Conversation at Christmas dinner always turns to stories of past years and Mother-in-law usually holds centre-stage with her stories of life in Zimbabwe. It is impossible for her to grasp what is happening there now; the country she lived in was the most prosperous in Africa and now the people are dying of disease and starvation. For once, we were glad that she has very little consciousness of the present, her long-term memory is still fairly sound and all of those memories are happy ones.

When I came to my desk just now, I found my email alert for the latest edition of the Bulawayo Morning Digest, containing a Christmas message from Mags Kriel. It tells of yet another instance of the suffering of the people of Zimbabwe but it contains the spirit of hope, courage and determination that we associate with Maggie:

WHEELBARROW WONDERLAND.

Living in Zimbabwe my entire life I have an inordinate fondness for the humble
wheelbarrow.

This is undoubtedly the most useful implement in life in the Third World.

I mean look at its uses, apart from the obvious garden work, the humble wheelbarrow in
Africa is used to move food, water, crops, fertilizer, one's earthly goods and chattels ...

Such a common sight, the sight of hundreds of people frantically pushing wheel barrows
up and down the roads of Matabeleland North and South where food aid is so desperately
needed. Empty barrows on the way to the growth points where food aid is distributed by
Christian Care, World Vision, FAO, WHO and the many amazing people who bring hope to
the starving.

The wheel barrow posture on the way to collect food, is desperate, hopeful, desperate,
hopeful, will I need my party card ? Will they give me maize, will they recognize me as a
member of the opposition party ?

And yet once the precious grain has been collected, the mood changes to elated,
euphoric, ebullient and excited.

But that same wheel barrow is also a people carrier, a receptacle to actually move human
beings !!

It was on the Beitbridge to Bulawayo road that I saw the most heart rending sight..... a
woman, heavily pregnant, but obviously desperately ill, being ferried by means of a
wheelbarrow, across the border to South Africa, for medical attention.

She was not a large woman, quite a small frame, she had her hand over her face so we
could not see her age, but the young man who was pushing the barrow, was sweating
profusely and in great distress both mentally and physically.

What was her plight ? Cholera perhaps ? In labour possibly ? Her thin legs were drawn up
awkwardly beneath her to avoid their being dragged on the rough bare ground. Her
clothing was drab and splashed with mud, a filthy cloth was clutched at her face and pain
racked her emaciated shoulders with every revolution of the barrows wheels.

It was nearly Christmas in Beitbridge, Zimbabwe December 2008. The rest of the world
had lights, carols, beautiful windows festooned with holly mistletoe and tinsel, Beitbridge
2008 was heaving with dysentery, cholera and squalid filth.

Mrs Wheelbarrow, name unknown , possibly just another statistic in the WHO records,
babe in tum, was being ferried to an unknown destination just as Mary was ferried on her
donkey so many years ago.

It is unusual to see a pregnant woman in Zimbabwe these days, babies do not come as
easily as they did in days gone by for some reason known only to Mother Nature.

Was a new life beginning in a wheel barrow on the dusty Beitbridge Road ? Or was a
precious life ending, due to lack of medical care, lack of any facilities at all, no drugs, no
rehydration tablets even the simplest of life giving facilities, let alone the necessary sterile
settings one gets afforded for a birth in the First World, the epidurals, the anesthetics, the
blood transfusions etc.

My mind wandered off to a similar situation over 2000 years ago, but that time it was a
slim patient donkey bearing The Pregnant Woman, not a rusty dusty wheelbarrow with a
squeaky wheel.

When we eventually got home, I decided to try it out , the wheelbarrow I mean, HEEHOO
refused point blank but I prevailed upon one loyal fellow called Sebastian who loyally and
manfully indulged my idiosyncrasies by pushing me around the garden in our trusty rusty
wheelbarrow.

Now there are two types of wheelbarrows, there is the flattish open one and the more
narrow and deep variety which is possibly used to move cement or soil. We fortunately
have the former because there is no way my ample derriere would fit into the latter !!

It was a nightmare, even with a blanket placed strategically to cushion the nuts and rivets
and rusty bits. What does one do with one's legs for example, they dangle painfully in all
directions. Within minutes the blood flow has stopped and pins and needles make their
way rapidly up to the knees.

Elbows and arms are another obstacle and the head rattles and bashes against the lip of
the barrow so badly that ones neck feels like it is being mashed by a thousand whips.

Any yet there is hope ... there must be hope for all of Mankind.

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices;
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born.

God Bless you all this Christmas, may Peace and Love and Happiness overwhelm you
totally, and may there soon be an end to suffering and hopelessness and despair in
Zimbabwe

I've had a wonderful Christmas Day and I don't feel at all guilty about my enjoyment. I don't intend this to be a melancholy post, I'm just voicing my hope for next year: that many more people will be able to celebrate in peace and security.

Hark at the Christmas beetles

It is difficult to find a parking space in the local town now that the Christmas shoppers are out in earnest. I have never been able to decide whether people who love shopping should be admired or pitied; I just gaze on them in wonder. My rare visits to the shopping centre are brief and purposeful and I would rather go without something than join a queue.

I was thinking about this when the latest edition of the Bulawayo Morning Digest popped into my inbox. I love to read Mags Kriel's accounts of everyday life in Zimbabwe. Her anecdotes, understated and written with wry humour, convey more about the horrors of the situation there than any of the news reports that I read. Here is her latest piece (with a bit about queues), ending, as always, on a note of hope .... it is only a matter of time. Indeed, Maggie, you must be right and I hope that time will come soon.

Dante ? Who the heck was Dante ?

It was one of life's enchanted orchestral moments ....

We heard it every few kilometers, it was not consistent but very strange and very loud.... at
first we thought, with dread ... that there was something wrong with the car ... and we
were all alone on the very quiet BeitBridge to Bulawayo road, it was after all, 5 a.m. and we
had been up since two am, so nervously we tried to pretend it was not happening.

The border crossing had been particularly stressful, we had thought that arriving at the
Beitbridge border post at 2.30 in the morning, would ensure we avoided the endless
queues, but we were seriously mistaken.

There were literally dozens of buses and the silent line of border crossers wound its way
for hundreds of meters nearly to the gate !!

HeeHoo is a Patient Man and whilst I fretted, fumed and sat fed-up in the car, he stood
stoically in the line in the pitch dark outside the customs and immigration hall.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of my bad temper and I wandered off to investigate and
chat with the populace. I had my camera, as always, but was too nervous to take pictures
of the horrendous mishmash at the border post.

There were people sleeping in every nook and cranny, blankets spread out in full view of
the "authorities" . Every pavement was covered in goods, chattels and a seething mass of
humanity, it is after all, a 24 hour border post, and people have 24 hour needs.

However it was amazingly quiet, we Zimbos are an exceptionally peaceful people except
for the likes of me, and apart from the occasional murmur when the queue jumpers were
just too brazen, conversation was limited and it was quite cool, thank goodness.

Beitbridge at midday is hell on earth, but as the dawn broke, it had an appeal all of its
own.....but I could almost smell the cholera boiling under the surface of it all ....

Previously on Morning Mirror I have made a point of being positive about Zim for the sake
of the few tourists who might possibly still come and visit our beleaguered country, but
right at the moment I am ashamed of my country and I would not want you to see just
how dreadfully it has deteriorated. If the world does not help us somehow, there is going
to be an humanitarian tragedy of hideous proportions.

We got through in record time, only two whole hours ... this very week HeeHoo met some
folk at the airport, they were flying back home instead of driving, because their cross
border trip had taken ten hours !!

It is actually not the Zim side that is the problem, it is the SA side "going slow in solidarity
with their Zimbabwe brothers" I hope not, because one could develop cholera just
standing in that line for so jolly long !!!

Do us a favor, we are hungry, that's why we are crossing the border in such vast numbers,
there is nothing, nothing, nothing to eat in Zimbabwe, at least nothing we can afford, as
we have no money to buy it with !!

Anyhow, back to that strange noise, it was like a continuous, deafening, harsh, singing
sound.

Whenever we heard it, we would open the window to listen, but the strange sound would
suddenly retreat into the distance. Maybe the wheel was rubbing on something ? Maybe
the engine was about to seize, maybe the canopy of the truck that we were driving,
(packed full of essential staple foods for the 75 elderly residents of the Edith Duly Nursing
Home,) was lifting somehow, and making this strange, discordant harshness ?

Eventually we could ignore it no more. We stopped, got out, and the sound hit us like a
brick wall. It was shrill, screeching, massive, unending ..... a cacophony of gigantic
proportions, it was on one side of the road only, although the sound echoed on the other,
absolutely deafening.

It was of course, the call of the Christmas Beetle, the African Cicada, Albanycada albigera
......
It is a sound so familiar to all of us Africans but we had never ever heard it so loud and so
unending.

Beitbridge had just received its first rains, tinges of green were creeping through the
packed hard earth, early-bird goats were tugging frantically at the first real food they had
seen in many months, and the Cicadas were multiplying by their millions, by the second....

What an amazing sound, we stood in awed silence devouring the most poignant of all
African sounds, memorizing each sacred minute, savouring the cool ethereal dampness of
a land so beautiful and yet so desolate, so deserted, so incredibly sad.

The sun was still way down on the horizon but it was already scorching, another day had
started in Zimbabwe, where body and soul has to fight every moment of every day to stay
alive. Dante's Inferno has nothing on life in Zim at this moment in time.

"Abandon hope all ye who enter here",

but Hark !

Hark at the Christmas Beetles, all is not lost .... another day is dawning .....

There are far worse things in the world than border queues and no food, we have found
that out in a big way just recently.

'Tis but a blimp on life's curved ball and we will survive it, we all know that .... it is just a
matter of time.

If the little things in life are annoying you......

..... compare them with everyday life in Zimbabwe right now. Mags Kriel, who produces the Bulawayo Morning Mirror, manages to remain cheerfully self-deprecating in the most difficult of circumstances. Her articles are always amusing yet they convey the harsh reality of life in Zimbabwe most effectively. Here is an extract from today's edition of the paper:

THE RELUCTANT KNITTER
Mother always said you should learn something new every day....

And today HeeHoo* taught me about the Hard Boiled Egg Index ! (*Mags' husband)

This is a peculiarly "African" thing. Now seven hard boiled eggs, the length and breadth of the Continent, should cost one US Dollar ! Or the equivalent in the local currency.

I wonder why they use 7 hard boiled eggs as a measure ?
Surely it should be a dozen eggs, or half a dozen, or at least a Bakers Dozen? But SEVEN hard boiled eggs ??
Does anyone know the answer. .....

The HARD BOILED EGG INDEX or HBEI is I gather, a universal currency rate used in Africa....
The Hard Boiled Egg Index is believed to demonstrate "fair value" given its
relationship to continent wide purchasing power parity. Sometimes the
parallel rate gets ahead of the HBEI and sometimes it lags behind (but not
usually for long). Generally the HBEI reflects exchange rate inflation,
regional purchasing power parity, and domestic inflation in a very effective
way.

Well that’s the official explanation at any rate.... so next time you buy a hard boiled egg on the street corner you will have learned something.

Lack of cash is hitting us all really hard. We were allowed to draw just three trillion dollars per day from the bank. (In the new currency, since they dropped ten zeros, it is just three hundred Zimbabwe dollars ) Now when one considers that a loaf of bread costs a quarter of that, one learns to spend ones money wisely !!

Some ingenious ways of finding money have arisen!! The banking sector is in such disarray that most firms and shops will not accept cheques. A cheque takes five to ten days to clear and the money has devalued significantly by the time the lolly gets into one's account.

The RTGS was the saving grace for a while, until the banking system buckled under the weight of all these zillions, then businessmen started to give different rates for cash in Zim dollars, a different rate for a cheque and a different rate for an RTGS. Of course first prize is any other currency !!

A restaurateur offered the following choices in Harare before the nought dropping debacle. "You either pay me 20 trillion Zim dollars cash, or the cheque rate is 56 trillion or you give me 90 US dollars." Which payment method would you choose?

It would take 7 days to draw twenty trillion cash at the allowable withdrawal of three trillion dollars a day!! Writing a cheque was an art!! A trillion dollars has twelve zeros, which cheque book has the space for as many zeros? HeeHoo wrote a cheque the other day where the zeros went round the corner and up the side of the cheque !! And the bank accepted it!!

One has sympathy for the business sector but they must be losing money hand over fist. HeeHoo tells a delightful story of five Captains of Zimbabwe Industry standing glumly in the Harare Domestic terminal bar, sharing two beers into five plastic cups, ..... the cost of two beers was seven trillion Zimbabwe dollars, was all these gentlemen of immense wealth could rustle up between them in local currency!!

How the average man in the street copes I have yet to ascertain. I do however know that people are dying of starvation, people are dying because their essential medicines are no longer affordable and people are dying because there are no drugs at all in the hospitals, even if they could afford to spend even one night in a hospital!! My own particular designer pills cost 18 trillion for a course of thirty and that was two weeks ago so they probably would cost double that today.

I have seen today's inflation graph and it goes straight up in the perpendicular!! We are all familiar with millions and billions and now trillions, but see what we had in store for us?

Quadrillion, Quintillion, Hexillion, Heptillion, Octillion, Nonillion, Decillion, Unodecillion, Duodecillion, Triodecillion, Quadecillion, Quintdecillion, Hexdecillion, Zillion

A trillion requires fitting twelve zeros and a zillion has 69 zeros!! Hope they get the cheque books sorted out quickly!! Thank goodness they dropped all those noughts off. And so shopping is out of the question, driving to visit a friend costs far too much. Going for coffee is a definite non starter, for a cup of coffee and a muffin, I would have to go to the bank ten days in a row!! (With fuel at a trillion dollars a litre!!)

There is certainly no point in going to work, as my wages would not cover my fuel to work and back daily, and so there is nothing else for me to do but to take up knitting. Reluctantly. Yes I am the original reluctant knitter but then nice warm scarf would be ideal for the security guard. Knit two, purl two, even my state of mind could cope with that......

Mother taught us to knit ..... knitting, sewing and cooking were obligatory for nicely brought up young ladies in the seventies, I learnt to make a pair of broekies at Eveline school, we used at least a yard of material, so they were bloomers of note!! Mum taught us chain stitch, daisy stitch and stem stitch, she taught us to make a button hole, sew a fine seam, and put in a zipper. She ensured I made a pair of bootees for each of my children and a tiny little knitted jumper for each baby!!

She taught me to sew curtains, bedspreads and dresses, but the moment she passed on to a better world, I turned my back on my embroidery scissors and beautiful skeins of thread, handed my tapestry over to someone a lot more worthy, and joined the ranks of the modern mums who DO NOT DO SEWING!!

But knitting is fine, it's mindless, it's soporific, it takes my mind off my desire for coffee, it takes my mind off the endless political turmoil,

knit two, purl two, knit two purl two .........

I really must stop complaining about the weather.

Zimbabwe - what are the good people doing?

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." Edmund Burke

In May, I chose Zimbabwe as the subject of my post on Bloggers Unite for Human Rights.
Since that time, the situation in Zimbabwe has deteriorated even further, while those who might have some influence remain silent. The governments of Tanzania, Swaziland and Angola have spoken out but the more powerful and influential neighbour, South Africa, still says nothing.

Today I received a letter from one of the aid agencies that I support, informing me that they have been forced by the Zimbabwean government to suspend all their field operations. (Click on the letter to enlarge)This ruling affects all groups giving humanitarian aid as well as those working on long-term projects to help the people of Zimbabwe to support themselves.

The latest news suggests that Morgan Tsvangirai may withdraw from the run-off election; while this may alleviate the immediate suffering of his supporters, it can only prolong the agony of the people of Zimbabwe. For more information visit the frequently updated Zimbabwe Situation or the Zimbabwe page of the Guardian's on-line news service.

Bloggers Unite for Human Rights - Zimbabwe

Today bloggers all over the world will be publishing posts showing their support for human rights. It is a sad indictment of our world that people like me can while away hours reading and writing about trivial matters when so many people don't have the most basic rights. I can't change the world but I can spend a day in solidarity with those whose rights are being violated in many countries: those who have no freedom of speech, no political rights or representation, those who are beaten, tortured, driven off their land; those who hope that we will hear and support them.

I want to draw attention to Zimbabwe, the country where my husband spent his childhood in far happier, more prosperous times, when Zimbabwe was the Breadbasket of Africa. The glimmer of hope we felt when the recent elections took place has faded as we read of renewed beatings, mutilations and imprisonments. Yet today I read this humbling, hopeful letter on Mags Kriel's Letters from Zimbabwe website:

Dear World, Remember Me? - 14/5/2008

Dear World, Remember Me?

Over a year ago, when I was sixteen, I wrote a letter to you, the world, regarding my homeland, Zimbabwe. Well, in five months, I will be eighteen, and we're still here; still broken. But, it's different now - the Winds of Change blow over the sands of Africa. There is an air of expectancy hanging over Zimbabwe, and the brooding horizon of the Future has crept a little closer than it ever has before.

For the first time, some dare to hope. Emotions run high as the fluctuating results of our elections seep through to the people. No one will admit it, for fear of disappointment, but, deep inside the hearts of Zimbabweans, flickering within these Children of Repression, something akin to the Hope we used to know ignites. With bated breath and shining eyes, we watch as the tiny flame of Hope, though small, begins to glow ever more brightly. Sure, there has been nothing definite, but when one has experienced suffering as Zimbabwe has, the faintest hint of Change, a mere breath upon the wind, is as blatantly obvious as the Dawn. And Dawn it is. After the longest Night of our lives, Dawn is about to break. There may be no rays evident upon the horizon as yet, but the Sun is there, ready to break free of its chains and Light our paths once again.

Like the coming of the Storm, the imminent arrival of the Change we had despaired after now burns through my blood. Suppressed excitement is betrayed by the hushed whispers that fly through our community like birds set free. Freedom, yes... Is that so much to ask for?

We have kept Faith, for a quarter of a century, and now, finally, finally, we are on the verge of Tomorrow. It took all we possessed to hold onto what little Hope we had, and many fell prey to Dejection, but we are Zimbabweans: Hope will forever burn in our hearts! Even in the Darkest of Days, we will hold our heads high, because, really, Pride, along with Hope, is all we have... (No food, no electricity, no food, no fuel, no food... It's hard to eat Hope, but it kept us alive regardless!)

And so, but a page away from the end, I wish to extend all the gratitude of my heart to you, the World. Though we are not quite free yet, our bonds are frayed, our cages rusted - they cannot hold us forever! To those of you who heard my plea, to those of you who listened, to those who cared - thank you. Thank you for your sympathy, thank you for your assistance, thank you for your prayers. Because you kept us in your thoughts, Someone, Something, out there, came through for us; Fate backed off, and we got to our feet, at last. So thank you.

As I said, it's not over yet, but we're so close I can almost taste it! To my fellow Zimbabweans, my People, Black, White, Indian, Multi-racial, all; both within this prison and outside of it, well, look at us... Look at what we are... We are a nation of survivors, eternally adaptable, suitably humble, and damn near indestructible! We have been to hell and back; we've seen horrors, and lived worse, and now, we appreciate Beauty, we appreciate Life. They couldn't beat us. They sure tried, and they very nearly did, but we're still here! And I, for one, am proud to be a Zimbabwean!

There's no grass here at the moment, so I guess it is definitely greener on the other side, but it will grow. We even had a good rainy season last year. The best we've had for a long time. Our country has been washed clean, bar a few stains, and once we've BLEACHED those, we can cut the cloth and fashion our Home into whatever we want it to be! And the grass? The grass will grow.

Fear of Change is fear of the Future, and if we fear the Future we will remain stuck in the Past. Now is the time for Change. Now is the dawn of the Future. And I... I am not afraid. No, I am not afraid.

Soon, when this is all over, and we may breathe again, I hope to see my brethren, free and unafraid, return to this, our country; our home, Zimbabwe. I hope to see the Future restore my Thriving, Living, Loving People, and I will not settle for anything less.

So, to you, the world, thank you. We're almost there; so close, so, so close. I was born into this version of Zimbabwe - it is all I have ever known. But I know it was better before, and we will be the Breadbasket of Africa once more. Never again will we allow ourselves to be dominated like this - NEVER. Now, all that remains after this Long, Dark War, is to rebuild. We will need all of your support in the Future, for to rebuild our Lives, our Homes, our Country, will take as much determination as surviving this Dark Era did, and the process of picking ourselves up will be even more arduous than bearing the beatings of the Past. And so, I implore you, remember us, the Nation that was brought to its knees, but which refused to give in. Remember us. And to the Zimbabweans out there, come home... This country is nothing without its People!

As we move on, and away from the Darkness of our past, let us remember: Humanity's history may have been written in blood, but our future doesn't have to be!

To the world, thank you,
Tanya Hunt
(An almost-eighteen year old Zimbabwean)

I hope the world will not disappoint Tanya and all the other people of Zimbabwe.

The epidemiologist

Over on The Daily Duck my virtual friend, Duck, takes a pot shot at epidemiologists. Perhaps all the serious discoveries have been made and today's researchers have only the food and lifestyle fads of the wealthy nations to observe but it wasn't always so. I felt impelled to defend those of my father-in-law's generation who made a great difference to our understanding of the conditions contributing to the spread of disease.

Here is a light-hearted look at pa-in-law in action in what was then Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. This watercolour was painted by family friend Vera Maw in 1954. She was used to seeing Albert head off into the bush with a truck containing every possible creature comfort. The MM is the younger child, in trademark 'shirt and socks in disarray' mode, having let his white mice escape; older brother Anthony is immaculate as ever, heading for his life as a successful accountant. Clicking on the picture will show the details which show how well Vera knew the family!