The party that never was

The party that never was
22/01/04
(READ ALL PREVIOUS ARTICLES BY MTHULISI MATHUTHU)
THE writing was on the wall. Earlier on in the day Dumisani Muleya had phoned to alert me to a venomous article in the front page of the Herald.

In it was quoted a fulminating minister of information and publicity, Professor Jonathan Moyo. It was all like the Old Testament prophet letter. The minister was alleging criminal conduct by Muleya and his comrades at the Zimbabwe Independent by publishing a story in which President Robert Mugabe was said to have commandeered an Air Zimbabwe plane to take him to the Far East.

Since the closure of the Daily News it has always been clear where Moyo’s Dangerometer and Guiltoscope (to use Eduardo Galeano’s inventions) are pointing, we said. We laughed about the whole thing. Muleya insisted that the party at his place would go ahead.

He was actually buying more CD’s at Spinalong, he told me.

Later on in the day a Daily News scribe rang to say he had just seen the chairman of the Media Commission, Tafataona Mahoso walking with a slight stoop out of the central police station carrying a small bag and a few papers.

What could the old man have been doing there, I wondered. A few minutes later, Ndabenhle, a long time colleague of ours rang to say he was passing by my place to pick me up for the party and I should buy some more drinks.

He kept his word.

By 3’oclock we were all gathered at Muleya’s place waiting for the eats and the drinks. Suddenly somebody rang to say the Zimbabwe Independent Editor, Iden Wetherell had been seen at the Harare Central police station with the lawyer, Linda Cook and it looked like he had been arrested.

It was getting dangerous, we all thought to ourselves. Still Muleya insisted that we should proceed and we would go to town later on.

“How will they know that Dumi stays here?” asked a colleague of ours who shall remain anonymous.

“Mahoso’s forms have got all the details,” we simultaneously said with Muleya in reference to the forms we filled sometime in 2002 applying for the licences.

No sooner had we said that that a police vehicle 2200 halted outside. At the back was Muleya’s news editor, Vincent Kahiya. I walked out to greet Vincent for I had not seen him in a long time. Above all it was good to get to talk to a person I had previously worked with at the Zimbabwe Independent.

With him were fierce looking men clad in civilian multi-coloured shirts like the Congolese. They were smoking and less friendly to me.

I knew they didn’t want me to talk to their captive.

I left.

In no time Dumisani was ready to join them for interrogation but they were impatient and were already grumbling suspecting he would disappear and elude them.

They had started to position themselves for anything but Dumisani handed himself to them and they drove away.

We knew he would sleep in there. During our conversation earlier on Dumisani had remarked that the whole thing was “ just drama” directed chief dramatist Professor Moyo.

Now the drama had begun and not our party. The dramatis personae goes like this: Professor Moyo, Mahoso, ZBC, Air Zimbabwe, Wetherell, Kahiya, Muleya, Itai Dzamara, Rodney Ruwende, Herald, Ian Zvoma and others.

Moyo was suddenly the minister of information and transport. On top of that he played the minister of home affairs directing the police on whom to arrest.

He also threatened the staff at the Air Zimbabwe. African historian, Mass Communication teacher, and an-African Media Commission chair, Dr Mahoso was suddenly acting an impimpi giving the police the information they need to get to the person they want.

The police on the other hand had become Professor Moyo’s messengers whom he could send to fetch anything for him including hounding down the journalists whom he either hates or is bitter about.

At Air Zimbabwe the drama was even more vivid. Everybody there was just unsettled. True to Professor Moyo’s threat the staff there was subjected to questioning by people who looked like they were angry on behalf of somebody.

Who had met a journalist in the last few days? Who works with the British intelligence? Who knows so and so at the Zimbabwe Independent? Why is Air Zimbabwe bent on undermining the first family and the President’s person? The interrogators wanted to know.

The answer was obviously hard to come by. The political appointees called managers and executives there issued a statement to say the plane had been formally chattered. Above all Air Zimbabwe has no problem with its planes.

Their fleet is adequate, we were advised. So the Zimbabwe Independent has to be sued, they told the world. Their word, they kept.

Elsewhere things are even worse. ZBC, which successfully been turned into a Zanu PF private broadcasting space tells the nation that the story implied that the president had personally picked up his phone to call Air Zim to provide him with the plane.

With pathetic enthusiasm they tell us that authors, Muleya and Itai Dzamara were now in. A few hours later some Ian Zvoma (related) tells the nation that Wetherell, Kahiya and Muleya are the ones who are in.

On Monday one Rodney Ruwende tells us that Dzamara is yet to be picked. The professor’s words are not yet finished. The story was “fictitious” and “blasphemous”, his Jeremiad went.

The international public paid attention. It was as if the four had insulted King Ahab and now Jezebel’s boys were out to get them.

Come Monday the three only need to pay just $20 000 each to go and write their stories while they await the 29th of January. Dzamara is finally picked up together with his General Manager, Raphael Khumalo but the latter goes home early.

Mahoso pens an interesting letter to Wetherell. Somehow it gets to the Herald also. They run it but it turns out to be slightly different from the one picked by a Herald reporter.

The contents are amusing.

The essence of the letter was that Wetherell is a racist and should be deported.

“No, seeing plunder and stupidity is not racist behaviour my good Dr,” replies Wetherell.

The Dr keeps quiet. Suddenly everybody is quiet and the curtains come down. The stage is clear and its time for lessons.

Now what have we become if our PhD’s and professors have suddenly become dramatists and clowns seeing colour and blasphemy where the whole world is seeing free expression?

A pariah state, simple.

Life must go on. Human solidarity has survived the Nazi tragedy, Apartheid, Saddam Hussein and the fall of the Twin Towers. So why shall it fail us who are at the mercy of these very few pathetic old mean and women?

All those men and women who thought a pen was too tiny a thing to fight tyranny had better start thinking about the computer.

Evidently a computer keyboard is mightier than a roundly condemned piece of legislation authored by a hand-picked, vindictive and motor-mouthed head of a department stationed in the office of a tyrant who stole an election.
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