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Standing up for myself
* Bernadette Mukonyora
July 12, 2005

What is this country turning to? Just the other day, a very disconcerting thing happened to me. Armed with a digital camera, I took a trip to Road Port where I was hoping to snap up some winning pictures that would complement a human-interest piece that I was working on. The Road Port was crowded as usual with big bags strewn all over. I took a seat on one of the cold blue plastic chairs, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my subject " the interviewee".

The departure area was where everything was happening. Many people were standing around - the bulk of them women - packing and repacking their big red and blue striped bags. Two men were on top of the bus loading the bags and safely tying them to the top of the bus. This is when my journalistic instincts took over and I decided to take what I thought was a harmless picture of the men on top of the bus. I whipped out my camera and took a picture. Thanks to the flash I managed to draw the attention of everyone who was standing there. One scruffy looking twenty-year-old man wearing a red cap boldly walked over to me and asked me what I was doing. Before I could react, he was shouting at the top of his voice accusing me of being a member of the MDC as well as suggesting that I work for one of the NGO-s that are meant to be hell-bent on spreading lies about Zimbabwe.

Fear gripped me. I had heard about journalists being harassed by Zanu PF militia but I always thought I was untouchable. My moment of reckoning had come and I had to act - and fast. My options were limited. I could either keep quiet and allow him to walk all over me in the hope that he will eventually get tired of walking up and down while pointing at me and attracting more attention or I could speak up and stand my ground - this also in the hope that he would not turn aggressive.

My biggest fear was that he would be able to mobilize the other people who were milling around and the thought of mob justice scared me to death. I began to visualize being punched and kicked from different directions while also being robbed of the little money I had, the digital camera and my precious Nokia mobile phone.

The man was now standing directly in front of me speaking so loud that he had managed to attract everyone-s attention. One of the more inquisitive people who were there came closer and began badgering me with questions of what I had done to aggravate the man who was shouting at me. I just kept quiet, stood firm, waiting for him to make the first move.

Like most Zimbabwean men of his caliber, he threatened to beat me up and then started grabbing the camera from my hands. Prompted by these aggressive actions, I realized it was a do or die situation and either way, I would lose out. I then wrenched the camera away from him and told him in no uncertain terms that I would not tolerate his nonsense. I told him that I would have him arrested and that I was not afraid of him (an obvious lie). It was at this point that he realized that he was actually shocked that I had stood up to him and he immediately began to tone down his threats.

I knew I had got him and the final straw was when I pulled out the "You don-t know who I am " card which always seems to work when dealing with uncouth Zimbabwean men. This phrase is often used when one is trying to insinuate that they might belong to the CIO. Anyone working for this organization is not obliged to walk around brandishing a name badge saying their name and defining their profession.

I realized that I was winning this battle and eventually told him to move away if he did not want to face the consequences of his actions. To my surprise my gimmick worked. This young man turned his back and went about his business, which I realized entailed pushing a cart laden with bags for informal traders from the buses. He turned his back and never looked back.

A few minutes after this scuffle, my subject arrived but I must say I was shaken that the incident would repeat itself and I perhaps would not be able to save myself. I took two pictures and immediately left. I will be honest: it took a while for my fear to subside and all the way to the car I felt as if I was being followed, but I never looked back. I just drove off - lucky to have been able to save myself.

* Bernadette Mukonyora is a Masters student at the Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University based in South Africa. Email address: bern4yu@yahoo.com

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