Cathy Buckle's Weekly Letter from Zimbabwe

WELCOME HOME!

Dear Family and Friends,

It's not hard to spot the Zimbabweans heading home at the international airport in Johannesburg. They are the ones buying bottles of water, loaves of bread and whatever basic foodstuffs they can still squash into their bulging bags. Other travellers passing through the airport are buying gifts, souvenirs and treats but not us - we are still scrabbling for essential food and trying to survive the madness of Zimbabwe. Distinctly third class treatment begins as soon as you get to the departure gates: shouted announcements, dismissive airport staff, not enough seating and overcrowded buses."This Is Africa," you hear people saying, a shameful excuse which disguises bad manners and bad service. It doesn't bode well for international attention coming to South Africa with the 2010 world cup football.

It is an eye opener looking down on Zimbabwe from the air this January 2009.

There is a lot of water to see and the rains must have been good. Rivers are flowing, dams filling and green is everywhere - but that's all. Gone are the views of neat fields filled with crops; gone are those giant cropping circles carved out into the red soil. The view from above is only of trees, bush encroachment and scrubland and the feeling is of a broken land whose fields are untended. Welcome home to a country still in waiting.

Waiting in line at passport control at Harare airport a woman in front of me struggled to carry three bags filled with bread. "I don't want to be here," she said. "How much longer must this go on? I want to bring my Mum chocolates and perfume, not bread." Her words spoke volumes. In front of us on the wall two stern, grim faced portraits of Mr Mugabe stare down at weary travellers who are already bracing themselves for the nightmare that awaits.

At the exit boom of the airport car park the attendant says I can pay in South African Rand or US dollars; he takes the foreign bank notes but has no change and does not give a receipt - welcome home to street law.

At a road block on the journey home a painfully thin Police woman in uniform comes to the car window. She does not check the vehicle, licence or papers but instead says: "Happy New Year, have you got anything for me?" Welcome home to a hungry, broken civil service.

Despite being well into the rainy season the view from the window is of scrawny, yellow, ankle high maize plants in a sea of weeds. Maize plants which should by now be waist high, deep, dark green and about to silk. Welcome home to another year of hunger.

Zimbabweans have only one wish for 2009 and that is for an end to this horrible state of affairs. Until next week, thanks for reading,

love cathy

cCopyright Cathy Buckle 3rd January 2009.