Introduction

This report puts into writing events before, during and after the night of Friday 13 April 2001. I have written this report only for the benefit of those who I think will be able to offer me some help as I start my journey to look for protection away from people that I am convinced are bent not only on physically harming me through torture, but also are nursing satanic desires to take my life as well as that of many others who like me are not only hoping through endless talk, but are acting for change in Zimbabwe’s political, economic and social welfare.

I have been tortured, both physically and psychologically and have written this report on my own because I am not able, or to put it more appropriately, because it is not safe for me to make this report to the Zimbabwe Republic Police (ZRP), because I have every reason to believe they were party —though maybe indirectly - to the ordeal that my life has become in the past three months.

Duty as an advocate of political change

I do not consider myself an opposition party active activist but my duty to Zimbabwe, the county of my birth, requires me to do all that I can in my restricted capacity to assist the liberation of my country from fellow countrymen who have taken it upon themselves to rob, murder, torture, cheat and steal from their own. I for quite some time since early this year took it upon myself to buy MDC cards for distribution to various people. Whether this is right or wrong, it does not matter, the fact still remains that quite a substantial number of people have been receiving these MDC cards for the salvation of their county, which is the struggle we are fighting.

Word filtered to me during the early days of February 2001 that due to these MDC card distribution activities, ‘some people were looking for me’. From then on I began to scale down on my movements and sleeping at different friends houses away from home where I would be made an easy target.

Events of Friday 13 April 2001

As I mentioned above, I had stopped sleeping at home because it had come to my knowledge that some people’ - ZANU (PF) war veterans and ‘other’ government agents - were looking for me because of my MDC cards distributing activities.

Now on this day, due to the fact that my parents were going away for their traditional Easter Passover, I had to take the risk and be at home to keep watch on the house since thieves had just stolen my father’s car only two months before.

I did not check the exact time but I think it was between 12 midnight and I am that I heard a very hard knock on the door. Somehow the people who I knew very well to be looking for me knew that I would be sleeping at home during Easter so when the hard knock banged the door I had to open or else the door was going to be brought down.

Three men came into the house and one of them started clapping me asking where my room was, showed them and they proceeded there and demanded to see where I kept the MDC cards that I distributed to ‘innocent people’. They started upsetting everything looking for anything that has an MDC symbol on it.

They only managed to find two MDC T-shirts. They continued clapping me and telling me that I was a fool to play around with ZANU ‘Unofaka ukaira zvekuramba nemoto’, (You will die if you play with fire) so they threatened as they searched the room. They said that I was stupid because with my degree, I could be doing a lot better at my work than moving around in MDC T-shirts and distributing cards for a party that was selling the country to white men. What had happened to my Rasta beliefs of keeping Africa for Africans, they mocked me.

In between the claps they told me that they were going to teach me a warning lesson that would help me teach others not to play with fire. From the tone of their speech I somehow felt that they were not going to kill me at least today - as they kept on saying that ‘today is just but the beginning’, ‘muchawona mumwe moto vanhu veMDC’ (you will see more fire for MDC people).

I was pushed outside where I was shocked to find a government plated Defender vehicle waiting inside the vehicle were four more men, two were sitting in front while other roughly dressed ones were sitting on the back passenger seat of the Defender. The ones who came into the house addressed the one sitting on the driver’s passenger seat as ‘chef’ and so I assumed that he was the leader. The leader of the group threateningly reiterated that today they were going to warn me, but unlike my assailants in the house, the leader emphasized that they were going to warn me ‘in writing’ so that I would be able to show and tell my friends and also be prepared for what was to come. I was pushed into the vehicle and the vehicle was started. We took the direction into Dzivaresekwa 3 until we got to the outskirts of Dzivaresekwa using the road between Dzivaresekwa No. 4 and Dzivaresekwa No. 6 Primary Schools.

The vehicle was driven until we had reached the old rubbish dumping site just outside Dzivaresekwa where the semi mad ZANU (PF) supporter John Musasamba stays. It then became clear to me how the news of fly card distribution activities had filtered out. John Musasamba, though worn out by poverty, was one of the forces behind ZANU (PF)’s infiltration activities in Dzivaresekwa because very few people take him seriously.

When we got to Musasamba’s squatter shack, I was shocked to see three other people already there, two were writhing in agony by the fireside where a group of maybe ten men I suspect these were war veterans - were sitting and shouting abusive language to these ‘Whiteman wives’. Due to the darkness surrounding the place, I was not able to take notice of the people’s faces.

I was pushed and kicked out of the vehicle and ordered to sit with my friends facing the fire. In the midst of abusive language being hauled at us I was ordered to get close to my friends and take a look at their backs to see ‘the writing on their walls’ before I witnessed a writing on someone else’s ‘wall’ in preparation for my own wall being written.

I noticed to my horror straight line of blisters on two guys backs which looked like they had been burnt with a wire but the breaks in the blisters told me that it was not a wire. I had not prepared myself for what I was about to see because from the burning fire was drawn a custom made red-hot chain. Fear gripped me like it has never done before but it was to grip me even more as the other guy was ordered to take off his shirt and sit with his legs bent up and his head between the leg. He was warned that if he screamed the marks would be increased from the two that would be enough to put an ‘X’, to as many as the times he screamed. So we had been brought here so that we could be warned by way of an X being burnt into our backs using a hot iron chain.

I can not put into writing what I felt as I saw three chain marks being inscribed on the guys back. I could hear the ‘shshshshshshs’ sound of burning flesh as red-hot iron got into contact with human skin. The smell of burning flesh made my stomach turn.

During all this process of burning the group got into a form of ritual singing extolling the virtues of seriously warning sellouts like us and Morgan Tsvangerai, the virtues of President Mugabe who they represented, the strength of their war against whites and their black friends in the MDC and the virtues of taking land away from the white men by all means necessary. ‘Muringochani dzevarungu ende tichakudzidzisai’ (You are white people’s homosexual wives we will teach you) they all shouted.

After the third guy was finished I was kicked to the front and ordered to sit in the manner the last guy had been seated. Terror filled me and I could feel my body shake. The group started shouting abusive language at me and scolding me that I was distributing MDC cards when I was such a chicken. They said that they thought only hard men do such crazy things and expected chickens like me to abstain from political games. I had started the action they said so they were going to help me finish it.

The red-hot chain was taken from the fire and I was ordered to lift up my head and take a close look at it before it landed on me. I was horrified and could not focus. All I could see was a red line being pulled out or the fire. I could feel the heat even when the chain was still centimeters away from my skin. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth in preparation for my horror. And indeed horror did I feel. I let out an involuntary scream as soon as the chain landed on my flesh and sprung up in a terrified jump much to the enjoyment of my torturers who with joy informed me that I had earned for myself one more mark and my marks would increase to three. What a nice boy I was, they laughed out. ‘Ndiwoka magraduates atinoda aya’ (These are the graduates we want) they mused.

I was kicked down and told to maintain my steady if I wanted to make life easy for me but how can one be expected to maintain ease when one has a hot chain writing marks on one’s human flesh? The second stroke came with threats of death for me and pain for my family if I continued with try silly activities of helping whites retake over Zimbabwe by distributing cards for their party of black sellouts.

The third stroke was meant to instill more pain by the hot chain spending more time on my body but I jerked away from the chain in a cry of anguish and pain, I cried and begged for forgiveness but only managed to attract for myself another stroke to make them four. I was given the fourth stroke and had to clench my teeth the hardest and harden my back so as not to scream. I was told that if I wanted to be forgiven then I should first collect all the MDC cards that I distributed.

Having finished burning me with their hot iron chain, they took the two MDC T-shirts they had found in my room and threw then into the fire telling us that this is the way we would go, burning flesh like the T-shirts were burning.

Having killed the fire with water we were addressed by the leader of the group who gave us the following final words.

1. That today we were lucky to go back home, next time we might not be so lucky. He pointed out that if we read the papers we should be aware that war vets would be setting up bases in all urban constituencies. He said it was his opportunity to inform us that as he spoke, a group of war vets had already set up base in Dzivaresekwa and they would surely continue to pay us more visits as and when word reaches them that we are still engaged in out activities of supporting the MDC.

2. That we would do ourselves a great disfavour if we went to the police to report because as we are aware, the ZRP is a ZANU (PF) institution and they would not believe whatever we would say. In fact, such a move would only serve to put for earlier the day of their (our torturers) visit back to us and that next time our families might also need to be involved. We were reminded again that we might not be too lucky to have the opportunity to go back home again.

3. That they were aware that we no longer are staying at our homes and hence they are making investigations into where we are staying. They would make it a point that they harass and torture those who are keeping us until we have nowhere but the fields (as is happening in Chitungwiza) to sleep in.

Having finished his lecture, the majority of war vets I had found by the fire side disappeared into the night while the group that had fetched me got into their vehicle and ordered us to get in front of the vehicle where we would run ahead until we got back into Dvivaresekwa. We were told that the vehicle will be coming behind us at a speed that will be left to the discretion of the driver and ‘anenge atsikwa atsikwa’ (who is run over is run over) so we have town as fast as our legs can carry us. I have never considered myself a good runner but when you have a vehicle being driven possibly by a war veteran policeman, you have to be a runner. And run I did. When we got into Dzivaresekwa we were ordered to run back to our respective homes as fast as our legs could carry us as our tormentors had other people to visit elsewhere before the night was over.

I did not look at the time when I got home. Whether the housemaid heard something and was too frightened to wake up I do not know but the door was not locked when I got home. With blisters already forming on my back, the pain of sweat mixing into the wounds. I could not sleep but started to put back into place all the things that had been upset.

Conclusion

For reasons of keeping evidence, I then decided to have two photos taken so that I can keep my torturers’ orders to show the world and others concerned who Zimbabweans should put an ‘X’ for during the coming presidential elections.

I have been living an insecure life since I heard that these people from the ruling party are looking for me and the degree of insecurity has increased on a daily basis up to today. Before I was tortured I had not foreseen how deep the desire to eliminate the opposition was in the ruling party but now I know. I have since become so insecure that I fear discussing the matter with anyone hence it has taken me almost a month without informing my employers.

As I hear that strange looking people keep passing by my parents’ house I fear greatly for not only my safety but also the safety of my family. As I also keep hearing from my network of informers that people keep asking ‘ where I am staying these days’ I know for sure that the hunt for my hideouts is already on and I do not know when they will catch up with me.

It is very funny how when a people in power face opposition they go to very great lengths to weaken the various units of their opponents. I have been of the thinking that my contribution was only too small to be noticed. Now I know better.