Secret Conversations in Zimbabwe

I once had an extended conversation with a hotel bartender in Zimbabwe about the T.I. song "Live Your Life." It was last fall -- talks between long-time dictator and master-election-stealer Robert Mugabe and opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai were stalled, human rights activists and opposition party members were disappearing left and right, a massive cholera epidemic was just beginning to make international headlines, and Harare looked like a ghost town.

And three Nobel Peace Laureates had just been denied entry to the country. The repressive police state was in overdrive.

So at the end of a long day, I was chatting with the bartender about movies, music, family, etc, and we discovered our mutual appreciation of T.I. and Rihanna. The song is a condemnation of greed and corruption, and he quickly started drawing comparisons between the lyrics and his own brutal government. I was petrified, at first -- state security officers were everywhere, frequently visiting the hotel and talking to the staff, and even following me throughout the day. I'd been careful to keep all public conversation benign and trust no one, and the bartender's forthrightness caught me off-guard.

I sat quietly and listened, occasionally asking broad questions but trying not to appear too interested. I was, of course, enthralled. He talked in hushed tones about how the delirious crash of the country's economy was straining his marriage, how his mother's house was burned down by youth militia in the post-election violence earlier that year, and how everyday is a struggle for survival. He said that no one dares to openly criticize the government because you never know who is listening, and he listed the names of friends and family who'd disappeared, or been murdered.

Every time someone walked into the room he changed the subject, but he'd quickly pick up where he left off upon their exit. It was a deluge of pent-up frustration. He leaned over the counter, put his head in his hands, and in a barely audible voice said, "So much suffering, and all because of the greed of a powerful few."

We sat in silence, until the evening's first dinner guests arrived. Before I left, early the next morning, he shook my hand and said that he hoped that I would return to "see a Zimbabwe truly owned by Zimbabweans, one day when this nightmare is over."

[Photo by "lowem," Creative Commons:: A Zimbabwean $50 million note.]