And…The Slaughter Continues !!

One of Mugabe’s biggest fears must be that someone who knows where all the bodies are hidden will break ranks and spill the beans.

Imagine if someone did do that. They would have to do it at a reasonable age as it would take years to get through the long list of victims and burial places.

One thing that concerns me deeply, having spent so many years living in Zimbabwe and knowing the depth of feeling that surrounds death in Zimbabwe and the need for the deceased to be buried correctly and with dignity, it actually shocks me that Mugabe should wantonly spirit away (excuse the expression) dead bodies without any care for the family, their needs, or the respect that the deceased require.

I should know, as I was a serving police officer in Matabeleland during the Gukurahundi and it was a discovery of discarded bodies that led to my departure from the ZRP.

From my book, “Without Honour”:

“The young teenager who had been showing us the way had disappeared, and his place was taken by a young adult, nowhere near as excited, his face screwed up in concern, his entreaties for us to follow more urgent.

Not more than a kilometre further up a very unused track we broke through some tree lines and immediately we could smell it…

Rotten meat. Badly rotten meat. Putrid, disgusting, horrible, rotten meat…

As a youngster I was renowned for having a very soft stomach and if I smelt something that turned my stomach, I puked. Great fun! But my time in the police, and pulling smashed up bodies out of motor vehicles, or taking down suicide hangings, or bodies that had floated in a river or dam for a few days, had hardened me to the vile smells that life and death brought.

But this was overpowering.

A few metres on, I was shown a track breaking off right and heading downhill – at quite a slope. Carefully, I stepped down a few metres, ever aware that the smell was now palpable, a real thing, not something blown in and away by the wind.

What I was looking down was either the ventilation shaft of an old mine, or the main shaft of an even older mine. Just a hole in the ground, maybe two metres in diameter – and the smell obviously lived down there.

Stepping up to the edge with great care – I didn’t want to fall in there, did I? – I peered down into what I thought would just be blackness – and received a not so pleasant surprise. I could see what looked like tiny bodies!

A hand, a head and what looked like a man’s body without a head… disgusting.

Now I was struggling to keep myself from throwing up. Quickly I back-tracked a few paces and waved the other officers away.

“No! You don’t want to see what’s down there! It’s horrible!” I managed to croak. As I have said before, the blacks in Zimbabwe are rather wary of death and they believed me, probably convinced by the loss of blood in my face, and the accompanying smell of death, moving away back up the steep path to the level track.”

That was in late 1984 – some twenty-five years ago. And nothing happened because no one would listen to me. The powers that be just made my life in uniform unbearable and then applied even more pressure until I had little option but to resign.

And that callous killing style continues.

“The remains of a Movement for Democratic Change (MDC-T) party activist suspected to have been murdered by ZANU PF militia in 2007 have been found in a mountain, police confirmed on Tuesday.

Manicaland provincial police spokesperson, Inspector Makomeke said the bones of Paul Zimunda, who died at the age of 33, were discovered on Monday by a hunter in Unze Mountain, in Zipeya Village, under Chief Nyashanu.

Zimunda had his metal identification card on him.

His whereabouts remained a mystery after he was abducted by a gang of the notorious militia who were violently drumming up support for ageing President Robert Mugabe while stifling any voices of dissent.”

And Mugabe goes into 2010 with no signs of him or his senior loyalists ever being brought to book.

Welcome to the real Zimbabwe – the one that Mugabe would prefer you don’t know about.