No News From Harare

Director's statement :

 

 

An average Zimbabwean man sat on a bench in the Harare Gardens - a beautiful park in the centre of the city, directly opposite parliament.

It was a beautiful day, a sunny day. A perfect day for a protest. He was simply talking to two filmmakers, (another foreign director and myself). Talking about his country, translating the placards of the protesters who’d suddenly gathered on the street nearby.

“The police will be here in 12 minutes,” he said. My colleague set the timer on his watch. “Then we’d be better be gone within ten”.

I started recording. It was a rare event to see an opposition party protest in Harare. And even rarer to find a local courageous enough not to be camera shy. “This was a beautiful country. But now that is gone. People don’t talk about it just because they are afraid. They are afraid of what will happen to them. If you talk, you just disappear. And then you are gone. Gone. And nobody will find you”.

I leaned in closer. People were noticing me with my camera. My zoom lens captured the protest some distance from where we watched innocently, simply sitting at the park bench. But to be captured with a camera, talking about the government, would spell the end of innocence.

 

“I know six myself who have disappeared. Not here but in Mutare. Six friends in Mutare, they are gone for 2 years now. And when that happens, you can be sure they are dead. You can be sure.”

Our interview abruptly ended. Not officially. Halted in mid sentence. The interviewee went silent. A white car was driving by. Not marked, not distinctive. But not just any white car. The silence that rippled through the park, the fear that ran like a shadow across his face, spoke louder than words. It was time to leave. The protest in the street gathered speed. Everyone had spied the white car driving by. It may as well have been marked ‘secret service’. And that meant only one thing. Mugabe’s ‘law enforcers’ were on their way.

I stopped rolling. Discreetly ejected the tape, slipping the cassette not into my pocket, but hiding it under my pants. Thank god tapes are so small nowadays, I thought. Then I quickly changed the tape. “Let’s talk about cricket”.

The Zimbabwean man looked at me strangely. “I’m not really that interested in cricket actually…”
“I’ve changed the tape. If they saw us filming, if they check our tape – we were just talking about cricket. Nothing wrong with that”. “Oh…”

The dawn of realisation crossed his face. A hint of his big Zimbabwean grin threatened to come out like the sunshine. For a moment there was relief… just one moment. “Yes, we had a very good cricket team once. But then they all disappeared”.

I stopped rolling. Hid the tape. Changed the tape again. Take 3... If it was at all possible to have a conversation in Zimbabwe that wasn’t political. A pleasant conversation about the next World Cup in South Africa ensued. All on tape, ready for review, should any more of those chilling white cars pass us by.

“It’s a wrap”. A safe distance behind the protest, we fled the scene of our crime.

 

(c) Wendy Dent,

Producer/Director 'No News From Harare'

 

 

Further links:

Excerpts from an Interview with Dr Lovemore Madhuku in No News From Harare

 

No News From Harare - information