Saturday June 7, 2003 The Guardian
She said her name was Dora and she had come for the revolution. Jaw clenched, staring straight ahead, she gripped her handbag and sat on the bench in downtown Harare, willing herself to stay.
Africa Unity Square was the assembly point for what the opposition called D-Day, the climax to a week of protests against Robert Mugabe's regime. Dora arrived yesterday just before the appointed time, 10am, and realised she was on her own.
But not alone. From different corners of the square hundreds of youths in white T-shirts - militia from the ruling Zanu-PF party - streamed into what was supposed to be the crucible of the revolution.
Around the city roved at least 2,000 militia, backed up by police and army units, even helicopters, in an unprecedented show of strength.
This was President Mugabe pulling out all the stops, for he sensed this week of general strikes and street demonstrations was perhaps the gravest threat to his 23-year rule. Morgan Tsvangirai, the opposition leader, was yesterday arrested for the second time since Monday and charged with treason, which carries a possible death sentence. He is already on trial on a separate treason charge.
The opposition ran full-page adverts in yesterday's independent Daily News: "We are winning against the dictator! This is the moment you have been waiting for. Protest peacefully - march for your freedom." They called for millions to turn out.
But, unlike economics, the government does repression rather well: it declared the protests illegal, stopped people entering cities and those who did make it to the assembly points were too intimidated to do anything.
Dora was an exception. In her early 30s, dressed in a business suit, she was about the only person in Africa Unity Square without a white T-shirt saying "No to mass action". She was visibly nervous but the voice was steady: "I came because it is my duty to be here. It is time to make a stand."
The interview ended when seven militants surrounded me and demanded to know which newspaper I was holding. "It's the Daily News," shouted one, and another raised a stick. When they saw it was not, they stepped back and smiled. "My friend, you're OK now."
In fact it was the Zimbabwe Independent, a Mugabe critic, and the splash headline said "Govt lashes out as protests spread". To be beaten for possessing one paper and not the other made no sense, but then little does in today's Zimbabwe.
What consistency the Mugabe regime had - reward friends and punish real or perceived opponents - seems to be unravelling as the crisis bites. Anecdotal evidence suggests the chain of command is fraying.
This week Zanu-PF militants invaded a privately run school outside Harare, forced staff to sing and dance in praise of the regime and slaughtered one of their goats. Two of the pupils are children of the president's sister, Sabina Mugabe, and when told she "hit the roof", said one teacher, but the militants continued harrassing.
Police told Duke De Coudray, the owner of a hardware store, that he would be charged with treason for not opening his store in support of the general strike, but Zanu-PF members said they would attack if he did open.
Yesterday's show of force ensured that D-Day passed without deliverance for the opposition but analysts said the level of repression was unsustainable. Most of the time the helicopters cannot fly for want of fuel and salaries are running out for the men with guns and clubs.
A police unit which raided the University of Zimbabwe stole not only the students' mobile phones and jackets, but biscuits and bread, which they devoured on the spot. "They seemed starving. It was amazing," said one student.
Three years after government-sponsored farm seizures started devastating the agriculture-led economy, rock bottom seems in sight.
To add to the mile-long queues for scarce petrol now there are queues outside banks for scarce cash - the central bank cannot afford ink for banknotes, among other things. Annual inflation is 269%.
After a series of one-day stoppages the main opposition group, the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), had called for a "final push" this week, with five days of strikes and demonstrations to force Mr Mugabe's resignation.
The security forces crushed the protests by detaining MDC leaders and beating hundreds of activists. At least one, Tichona Kaguru, 33, died from his injuries, and dozens more were beaten again while being treated at Harare's Avenues clinic.
The more traditional tactic of beating people at home under cover of night continued, said the MDC, which published graphic pictures of bruised and broken limbs.
About 3,000 students who tried to march from Harare's university were dispersed by teargas and live rounds fired over their heads.
Before his arrest Mr Tsvangirai voiced defiance: "From now onwards we will embark on rolling mass action at strategic times of our choice and without any warning to the dictatorship. More action is certainly on the way."
The crackdown succeeded in crushing demonstrations but not the strike, one of the deepest and longest in African history, which turned cities into ghost towns. It was a message to the Zanu-PF factions plotting to succeed Mr Mugabe to hasten the 79-year-old's exit.
Speaking from a new safe house Roy Bennett, an outspoken MDC MP, claimed victory. "We showed who has the power in the country, who rules. To be able to shut down major cities for five days shows where the power lies.
"The damage to the economy was massive and weakened the ruling party's position and should force them to the negotiating table."
By the time Mr Bennett and his wife made it to Africa Unity Square, Dora had gone and they were the only MDC representatives. "The scale of the security intimidated people," he said.