So, yes! I’m finally in Africa. I knew it the very moment. It took only brushing by a grasshopper the size of my two fists, and experiencing the only turbulence in my entire 28 hours of travel...as if the very nature of the place was somewhat foreboding. Indeed, Zimbabwe has many legacies including, but not excluded to: 1) the harboring of an abundance of oversized (hippo), gangly (giraffe, gazelles, you name it), or potentially not-so-cuddly safari animals (lions that ate my roommates shoe!), and 2) a history of political turmoil and constant instability in every aspect of society.
But embassy life, unlike for real Zimbabweans, is not too shabby and it’s something I feel both guilty and grateful for. I am living in a great LARGE house. I have a cozy room all to myself. We live within a self-sustaining compound and have Post One Marines at the ready 24/7 incase of an emergency. Our guards are really friendly, and a driver from the embassy comes to take us to and from work every morning/evening. As we head out the door around 7:30am, we always say good morning to our housekeeper Georgina, and gardener Amon. My roommate Mayela is an incredible gal, sweet beyond compare, smart, and fortunately just as extroverted as I am! J We get along fabulously, and I think we are both glad to not be alone especially in such a palace! Yesterday, she brought me to work with her and proceeded to introduce me to everyone in her office, which left me feeling SO welcome, and ready to have all sort of adventures together.
Eventually, Mayela dropped me off at the Consular Office for my first day at work, which consisted of taking computer security tests, getting my official embassy badge (which is totally badass btws!), signing lots of paperwork, and getting to know the staff. My boss’s name is Jim (ex-airforce pilot), and I also work closely with Esther (Mongolian/language extraordinaire). Together, they introduced me to the ways of the world within the context of embassy lingo and procedure. Ironically, consular work works with awarding immigration visas to the United States – something which I have developed somewhat of an amnesty outlook. Obviously, of the hundreds of applicants, only about half are given the temporary visas necessary for legitimate travel, and with me behind the desk I only want to award everyone a “get-out-of-jail-free” card per se to go to America. The only problems is, sometimes people awarded temporary visas never come back. And that’s why Jim and Esther are there: to sniff out the liars from the honest ones. But, can you really blame Zimbabweans? Can you blame someone for wanting to remain in a country like the USA with so many wonderful liberties when for so long you’ve been oppressed by your own government? Oppressed by your own poverty? No, I don’t blame all those Zimbabweans appealing for visas in our office for 2-3 hours every morning (esp. when dealing with an incredibly slow intern who’s trying to learn the complexities of being an office monkey). I’m going to have to work really hard to become good at my job, asking the tough questions, watching people squirm…as Jim said today, “Like any good lawyer, I’m not going to ask anyone a question I don’t already know the answer to. The key is, do THEY know the answers to their own story.” I guess for me, it’s difficult to want to catch someone in a lie, especially when people are lying about their relationship statuses and other normally petty things that would normally not be a big deal, but instead when in this context, have incredibly positive or disastrous consequences…Besides, being more of an amnesty advocate, it goes inherently against my notions of citizenship and nationalism. But that’s okay, these are challenges I somewhat expected, and I’m not opposed to hearing out the other side. And I guess I’ll concede, despite my optimistic idealism, that I’m already learning not everyone requesting entrance to the U.S. is of good standing. Big Brother can be credited for that. Not only do we take applicants fingerprints, but we take DNA samples in order to prove familial relationships, or to check the numerous FBI, CIA, and local crime databases for delinquent records to make sure that people really are who they say they are. It makes me glad that I’m on the other side of the glass…although Big Brother pretty knows everything about me too since I now work for "him"… creepy.
Anyways, after going to a party last night with Mayela and Mitchelle in which I was drinking with all my fellow co-workers and supervisors (including my boss, lol), people have really embraced me into the tight-knit embassy community. This is an embassy in which most people are married and work with their spouses, but there are also a fair number of other interns from other embassies, like the Brits, Germans, and Aussies, that came to hang out too. We ate potato soup and drank Blue Vine, (a type of German fermented heated red wine with nutmeg) socializing to the backdrop of a huge roaring campfire and the radio rumbling on in the distance about the evening’s World Cup game. I was so pleasantly content, talking to people, eating, introducing myself, making connections…I am continually amazed by the background and experiences of the people I am surrounding myself with. I can only hope that some their intelligence and unique brand of humor will rub off on me during my 10 weeks here. I honestly don’t think I’ll want to leave.
Today, as Jim and I were leaving from the Public Affairs office, he asked if I wanted to take the driver or walk back to the embassy. Having seen Harare only through the mask of tinted windows, I adamantly wanted to walk, breathe in a little of the streets, of the chaos of men dodging cars in tailored suits, young boys selling bananas and newspapers, and of beautiful women balancing large baskets upon their heads flawless and unwavering. As Jim walked me through the city, he pointed out buildings, parks, and began commenting about how although Zimbabwe is still hurting, it’s a lot better than it was even 2 years ago in 2008 with the scandalous re-“election” of Mugabe. People, he told me, especially business owners found it more profitable to hold on to merchandise rather than sell it given the daily plummeting of the Zimbabwean dollar. Similarly, if anyone ever was able to collect a sum of money either from the bank or though business, it was in the best interest of the beholder to spend the money immediately or risk losing it overnight to the economic monster of inflation. I told him I couldn’t fathom such a reality. After pausing for a moment, Jim replied that above anything else, Zimbabweans are the most patient people on the planet. They just wait for things to turn out for the better…and it eventually happens, but jeez, waiting for SO long for basic amenities!? For example, one day after working Jim was driving home and passed a bus stop of people traveling to Bulawayo. The very next morning he drove by again, and there they were, still waiting for the same exact bus that would come. Sure maybe it would come in an hour, a day, a week, but they were just waiting. There was little else they could do. Such a lack of infrastructure, of corruption in the government and banking systems, oppress the day-to-day lives of Zimbabweans, lives in which the average expectancy rests between 35-38 years.
In any case, I proceeded to question why Zimbabweans went through so much and have yet to truly get angry! This ties in perfectly with my Political Dissent class I took this spring, with Gutterman when we discussed how an oppressed group puts up with their condition – due to either fear or resignation – until there’s a tipping point, a breaking point, in which all other means of change have been exhausted, leaving violence as the only remaining solution. Such resulting violence is mostly considered justified. Even Mandela, who definitely advocated peaceful protests in South Africa, also knew the limit of their effectiveness. He didn’t eliminate violence from the handbook of social change. Something needs to catalyze Zimbabweans…perhaps even to violence. I would have thought the 2008 elections would have been a descent time, but I think dissent groups were too unorganized, and the silent majority of common man and woman feared being killed for expressing themselves. Such government control and power requires not a spattering of dissent groups poking their heads out now and then (and thus losing them), but rather an organized mass movement. It begins with a reformed constitution and a new election process providing a structure for legitimacy. However, one must disobey the system to break the system, and only then will Zimbabwe be able to heal, move beyond centuries of incessant tyranny, and stop trading one form of oppression for another – white or black, economic or political.
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