The history I present here is a story of suppression of the existence of a people of which I am part; their memory and history. These are my personal recollections about the Ndebele people in post-colonial Zimbabwe, from 1980 until the present time. My task is to engage with the agenda of a sick nation-state, whose thrust is to decimate from the pages of its history the painful story of its citizens, the Ndebele. (1) Further, I aim to show the perspective of Zimbabwe from the subaltern. Let it be stated from the outset that this article might irk many people; particularly those close to domination and the centre of power, or those who are beneficiaries of Zimbabwe's skewed policies against the Ndebele as the 'Other'. My narrative challenges the notion that Zimbabwe is a united and peaceful nation. This, to me, is a falsehood. I will support my views with stories of my life experiences in Zimbabwe from childhood. I will further illustrate this with my conception of how the Ndebele have journeyed through suffering, suppressed memory and darkness until today. I will also draw on these submissions to present the concept of the 'psychology of oppression'--a state of mental warping gained through years of rationalised and internalised suffering. I apply this to my analysis of our situation in Zimbabwe, given the physical forms of violence the Ndebele have endured (Gukurahundi Genocide) (2) and the oppression of the mind through suppressed memory and notions of peoplehood. When writers like Rene Dumont (1966), Basil Davidson (1992) and Ali Mazrui (1980, 1995) wrote about Africa's 'boiling pot' and how the independence era has been a false start, their projections were clear. Ali Mazrui's paradoxes presented as contributing factors to Africa's grim condition, are noted here. I acknowledge that George Ayittey's (1992, 1998, 2005) submissions of Africa's betrayal by the ruling thugs who captured the state, aggravate the writing on the wall. This is the prelude to my narrative. In mapping the centrality of my recollections, I submit that by belonging to the Ndebele in Zimbabwe it is implied that my cultural location is subaltern; therefore, I will not mimic the views of those in power or their beneficiaries. I will tell my story of tears, fear, resilience, hope and aspirations as an Ndebele. My story is one of betrayal by a leadership vested in one ethnic group by the departing colonial administrator who, it appears, was desperate to leave office and usher in black majority rule. This move has marked Achille Mbembe's (2001) discussion of the state of the post-colony and how it seems to be marred with problems. Zimbabwe is an example of a nation-state whose curse is so pervasive. The period is 1980, and I am a child growing up in Matebeleland. Around that time I was used to traversing between the Tsholotsho and Lupane districts of Matebeleland; the north-western parts of the city of Bulawayo. 1980, which is when Zimbabwe attained independence, was a year when everyone celebrated. For the Ndebele, however, that year marked the beginning of our betrayal by the new nationalist leaders. Our sense was that black majority rule turned into tyranny of the majority. Little did we know that the political and sociocultural descriptors of 'independence' and 'freedom' which we had embraced, would not apply universally to all Zimbabweans. The mistaken assumption of most Zimbabweans was that independence meant freedom, and vice versa. At that time my family, like many, was celebrating not only the coming of independence, but also the return of my uncles, aunts, cousins and distant relatives from liberating Zimbabwe. As Mazrui (1995) argued about the spilling of the blood of the innocent, and further said that Africa's problems are a multitude possibly because 'the gods are angry', my family and those of Ndebele origin can bear witness to this assertion. Our moment of celebrating the return of the liberators, in tandem with independence, was short-lived. …
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Feb 28, 2013
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