Sleeping Like a Hare Millions Billions Trillions    
African Tears Beyond Tears Innocent Victims Imire Can you hear the drums, by Cathy Buckle

Blanket immunity to murderers
August 18, 2017, 7:33 am


Dear Family and Friends,

On a few days away, heading south from the capital, the view from the window is a Zimbabwe that is hot and dry and golden brown. Rivers that were churning and thundering, overflowing their banks and breaking bridges just three or four months ago are again dry, littered with rocks and boulders and filled with deep yellow sand. The grass everywhere
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There for all to see, if only you dare look
August 4, 2017, 12:00 pm



Dear Family and Friends,

We are expecting a flurry of activity from usually invisible Municipal workers who will suddenly start filling potholes, cutting roadside grass and putting up bunting in advance of next weekend. It’s the same every year: whenever government VIP’s are expected in town the carpets of illusion are rolled out and usually apa
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Can they really afford to throw away 3 or 4 million votes?
July 21, 2017, 9:03 am


At my local Parliamentary Constituency office a deep gully adorns the road outside and a  rusty, barely legible signboard mostly obscured by the branches of an overhanging tree, proclaims that this is the “Parliamentary Constituency Information Centre.” This is where you go to register births and deaths, get national Identity Documents and register to vote. It&rs
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Where is the conscience of our nation?
July 7, 2017, 8:51 am


Dear Family and Friends,

Winter came to Zimbabwe this week with cold, grey skies and freezing nights. A very unusual heavy downpour of winter rain filled with hail stones in my home town left everyone running for cover and wrapping blankets round their shoulders. All week, as temperatures dropped I couldn’t get m
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Pots, bottles and broken promises
June 23, 2017, 12:01 pm


Dear Family and Friends,

I am writing this letter with the Constitution of Zimbabwe open in front of me. Outside on the road I can hear a man calling out: “kunama poto” (fixing pots) as he walks around the neighbourhood. A young man, in his late twenties, he has a small blue and grey rucksack on his back and carries a gas welder everywhere he goes. This young
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