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Three Years At Wha Wha
Paul Themba Nyathi
From Conscience be my Guide: An anthology of prison writings
Edited by Geoffrey Bould, Published by Zed Books Ltd and Weaver Press
March 2006

Paul Themba Nyathi was a member of the ZAPU provincial executive in Matabeleland before Zimbabwe's independence. He was suspected of recruiting guerrillas, and was twice arrested before finally being placed under indefinite detention from 1976 to 1979. In 1999 he became a founding member of the national executive of the Movement for Democratic Change. He was arrested and held in police cells for four days in early 2003.

On my first arrest, in 1974, I was interrogated in relation to recruitment of guerrillas for the ZAPU army, ZIPRA. The white officer was well informed about our activities, but when he couldn't get anything from me he handed me to two black officers who assaulted me. But they seemed to be impressed by the fact that I answered back to their insults and eventually simply let me go. At least at that time in the cells we got two meals a day, the cells were relatively clean and the toilets were flushed every hour. I sensed a professional attitude on the part of the police. We didn't expect much from them because we knew they were an instrument of an oppressive regime. We felt like heroes for being arrested, and we expected that the war would soon be won.

The attitude continued when I was arrested and sent for indefinite detention in 1976. I was detained under the state of emergency and interrogated for two weeks at Grey Street prison.
I was amazed at the information they had, including details of a visit I had made to Lusaka in 1965. Although I had indeed been recruiting guerrillas, they could not pin anything on me, so could not charge me. The interrogating officer advised me to admit to things which were not an offence, such as visiting Zambia, so I did. The regime was meticulous and only took to court those cases where they had overwhelming evidence because the courts were quick to throw out any which were not well substantiated. As a result I was sent to detention rather than being brought before the courts where I could have been sentenced to death if found guilty.

The three years at Wha Wha were a period of intellectual growth for me. At first we were crowded - about 30 in a barrack designed for twelve - but soon a new barrack was built. We were comfortable, doing our own cooking, flushing our own toilets; we grew vegetables and played volleyball. We were allowed visitors five times a week. Food was standard, including meat and vegetables, rice, cooking oil, and were supplemented by the Red Cross. Sometimes we even gave food to our relatives to take away. There was a clinic run by the Red Cross, so we probably got better medical care than our families outside.

During our detention we were able to read lots of books, and study. Some who went into detention illiterate came out with a basic education. We debated endlessly about how we could create the new Zimbabwe. Once I debated at length across the fence with Enos Nkala, and we agreed that indefinite detention was one out of the cruellest punishments and it would never be done in a free country. Yet his party and he as minister continued with this practice when they were in power. I learned a lot by observing the behaviour of some of our leadership. It was a warning for the future. While some displayed humility others played the role of petty dictators, making rules that exempted them from duties of prisoners, insisting that others take the burden from them.

One thing that was noteworthy was that the state recognised that we were political opponents. There was no attempt to criminalise us. Furthermore, they conceded that detainees were entitled to certain basic rights and were respected as human beings.

What I saw when I was arrested under ZANU(PF) was quite the opposite. I was arrested and detained for four days at Bulawayo Central Police station, where I had been in 1974. I saw an amazing disregard for basic human dignity. The cells were unbelievably filthy, a rag which was once a blanket was caked with human vomit and excrement, the stench from the overflowing toilet was overwhelming, and these seemed to be a sadistic appreciation of the role played by hoards of mosquitoes. The toilet was being flushed from the outside regularly, but since it didn't work, it seemed a useless exercise. In four days I was never given food by the police - I had to be fed by colleagues from outside. I shared my food with several young boys who had been arrested for stealing maize cobs. No one knew they were there and they had not eaten at all for two days.

Under an independent African government one would expect more sympathy and respect for the prisoner than under colonial rule. But rather I found a callousness that resulted in a deliberate degradation of other human beings. There is no acceptance of legitimate political opposition, but rather a determination to criminalise it. Beyond this there is a total indifference to a malfunctioning system. No one bothers to repair what doesn't work, or to correct any wrongs. There has developed a culture of neglect, with completely de-motivated officers. No one among the police seemed to take pride in their work or even care about it. They only take pleasure in dehumanising their prisoners.

Who can explain the brutality of black police officers against black prisoners in an independent Zimbabwe? The work of looking after prisoners, of depriving them of freedom, is itself degrading and can lead to abuses. If it takes place within a supervisory system which itself has no respect for human dignity, individual officers will do anything with impunity. Can we blame it on the brutalisation experienced during under colonial rule? I don't know, but I can say for certain that it was not what we experienced when being held by Smith's police and prisons and it is not what we expected when we were fighting for freedom in Zimbabwe.

We fought relentlessly against white minority rule out of a conviction that a black government would better appreciate the dignity of the black majority. The moral blameworthiness of a black government that dehumanises its own people is worse than that of a white minority government. In the case of the former the sense of betrayal is complete.

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