My Heart Breaks for Zimbabwe

I have just returned from a 5 day stint in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe where I met my uncle and grandmother on my father’s side for the very first time. I must admit that I was beyond excited to visit the country, as I have heard so much about it from my father for so long. The very first thing that I noticed was Rob’s (my uncle) blue eyes. I am the only one in my immediate family to have blue eyes, and I was always wondering where they came from. Now I know. Both Rob and my grandmother have bright, clear blue eyes like mine. But this is nothing compared to the identity and attachment I felt to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, this town to which I have never traveled in my entire life. From the first hour I spent in Zimbabwe, I felt a strange and deep attachment to this land.
After having recovered from my serious jet lag, my first full day was the most brilliant introduction to Zimbabwe I could have ever asked for. My uncle took my brother and I to Matopos National Park, which is slightly outside of Bulawayo. We saw the place where my grandfather’s ashes were scattered, and most importantly, we saw World View. World View is this raised, rock hill with boulders perched on top. At the center of these boulders and at the highest point of the main rock face, is where Cecil John Rhodes is buried. Close by Jameson and Cochlan are buried as well. Standing on top of that rock face I felt my heart open and connect itself to the ground. It was a strange feeling. I have never felt so grounded in one place before in my entire life.
But most striking, was a tower jutting out of the rock face a few hundred feet away. It was a thick, staunchly tower about 50 feet high. At the base facing Rhodes’ grave were the words ‘TO BRAVE MEN’. It was a tribute to those who were slaughtered in the Shangani River Battle. This tower, I cannot adequately explain. It was such a monumental tribute to these men, one could feel the emotion radiating from its stone walls. It was entirely and completely out of place. We were in the middle of a national park, with nothing but trees and rolling hills for miles, and here, at the top of this rock hill was a tower erected in these men’s honor. Unbelievable.
The next day we toured around the city parks, Central and Centenary. Every place we went to , Rob would say “This used to be…” or “Once this was…” Never did he utter the words “This is the pride of Zimbabwe”. Never. There was nothing left of what once was. All that was left of Rhodesia were a few piles of concrete and some overgrown grass. The scene was so depressing I shed a tear on the spot.
The saddest thing in the whole park, was located at the back of the museum behind the Lion’s Pons, which was built for the sole purpose of little boys to be able to sail their model boats. There, tucked away at the end of Centenary Park, remain two statues. Without name plaques, hidden beneath trees and bush, without light nor view nor any recognition, remain what are most likely the only two full statues of Rhodes and Cochlan. The two men stand nobly, facing each other wearing stern and confident expressions. Their gaze is fixed far away, as if looked towards what could be a brilliant and bright future for Rhodesia and Zimbabwe. This touched me more profoundly than I can say. With no recognition whatsoever, Rhodes and Cochlan still stand proudly in the city they once loved and cherished beyond any doubt.
This whole experience effected me more profoundly than I can adequately say in words. I now know my land, the place of my ancestry and descent. Zimbabwe, what was once Rhodesia, was and will forever be my homeland. It breaks my heart to see what has become of this amazing country. This heavy sadness brings with it so many questions. How is it that South Africa could overthrow colonial rule and move on in such a productive way while Zimbabwe has reversed itself so profoundly. Today we visited the old prison at the Constitutional Court in South Africa, a place where they have incorporated the bricks of their oppressor’s prison into the construction of their new court. Harare, the capital city of Zimbabwe has been on a rampage since Mugabe’s rise to power to eliminate absolutely every piece of colonial architecture built while the country still took the name Rhodesia. How can these two countries have turned out so vastly different?
I long to know what it is that has caused such a radical and profound shift in these two countries. Yes, of course the leaders in question have a lot to do with it, Mugabe is such a completely different character than Mandela, and I am convinced that this had much to do with it. But this cannot be the only thing. If this was the only thing standing in Zimbabwe’s way then the country would be easy to fix, but this is not so. The issue runs much deeper than this. Removing Mugabe would only solve half of Zimbabwe’s problem, of this I am sure. What would also be needed would be an overarching national identity for Zimbabweans. There is such a profound divide between Whites and Blacks in Zimbabwe that it is hard to imagine the two on an even keel. Both races in Zimbabwe absolutely resent each other, whereas in South Africa there is now a common understanding and a common goal of South African solidarity.
I am eager to learn exactly how this common solidarity and national identity was formed, and if such a model could ever be even remotely applicable in Zimbabwe’s case. If South Africa could overcome its horrendous and unimaginable struggles in apartheid, then it seems plausible that Zimbabwe could follow suit. Of course, a serious regime change and maintenance of infrastructure is necessary before Zimbabwe can advance economically, but socially Zimbabwe is in dire need of an identity. I am very curious to further our course and to learn more in depth about this process that has been put into practice in South Africa. I would love nothing more than to help repair Zimbabwe, the country that I love, and to do this I must learn how one can form such an overarching national identity, one which incorporates all, irrespective of race and class.