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A country kept in the dark
Moses Mudzwiti,
The Times (SA)
August 26, 2008
http://www.thetimes.co.za/Entertainment/Article.aspx?id=829716
When there is an electricity
blackout, everything stops. No lights, no water, no telephone, no
petrol and no news. This is the situation in Zimbabwe. Stuck in
this jumbled existence, it is hard to make any sense of anything
at all. No one here seems too bothered about the make-or-break power-sharing
talks between President Robert Mugabe and the two factions of the
Movement for Democratic Change. Ordinary people are too busy hustling
for their next meal to expend any energy on finding out any latest
developments. Besides, newspapers are too expensive while radio
and television are, by any standards, hardly credible sources of
information. Television might as well have died long ago. The state
owns the broadcasting rights over Zimbabwe-s single television
channel. Without any competition, the sole provider can subject
its long-suffering viewers to endless history lessons on how the
country was colonized by the British more than a century ago. In
between the lessons, there are repeats of Korean soap operas, complete
with subtitles. This, as well as a combination of factors including
incompetent media practitioners, overpriced news products and unreliable
electricity supplies, has conspired to keep Zimbabweans ill-informed
about their country and the world around them.
If by some fluke electricity
is available and you turn on the radio, more often than not, a less
than impressive radio jock will mumble something about "crossing
over to the news". The enduring local news jingle of beating
drums comes alive, followed by the voice of Mugabe declaring: "We
stand by our people. Their votes on June 27 can never be rejected."
He then goes on to thank Zimbabweans for the "faith they have
reposed" in him. Then the radio goes dead quiet. A few minutes
later, the DJ proudly announces "That was the news." No
one seems to take notice of such glitches. And conspiracy theorists
could be forgiven for suspecting that the frequent blackouts are
simply a government ploy to hide information from the public. But
incompetence is largely to blame for the sub-standard broadcasting.
The state broadcaster rises to the occasion only when Mugabe makes
a live address. Perhaps it is fear of arrest that ensures that it
performs for the octogenarian. Journalists employed by the state
media have learnt how to survive. If they want to stay employed
they know they have to sing the government-s praises all day
long. Some citizens have adopted the government-s hostility
towards the West, which they frequently accuse of imposing crippling
sanctions.
A local singer who was
taking part in an all-night Heroes- Day bash earlier this
month took the anti-West rhetoric a step further. The singer changed
the word "British" to " . . . . . . " in a
song ridiculing the former prime minister Tony Blair. "The
only Blair I knew was a toilet," sang the young man, much to
the obvious amusement of his audience. It is hard to find anyone
genuinely interested in radio and television news bulletins. Nevertheless,
the Zimbabwe Broadcasting Corporation (ZBC) dutifully continues
to churn out its pro-government bulletins. Little wonder fed up
consumers have renamed the propaganda machine "The Dead BC".
All other state media make it their business to fight against what
they call the "regime-change agenda". They devote a lot
of time and space to criticising the opposition, especially the
MDC, led by Morgan Tsvangirai. "I don-t watch ZBC television,"
Tsvangirai revealed last month on the night he signed the memorandum
of understanding that paved the way for the power-sharing talks.
Since siding with Mugabe, MDC splinter-group leader Arthur Mutambara
has enjoyed positive publicity on radio, television and in the state-owned
newspapers, the Zimbabwe Herald and the Sunday Mail. Privately owned
newspapers like the Financial Gazette, the Zimbabwean and the Standard
are more sympathetic towards the opposition. But they are priced
well beyond the reach of those who need the information the most.
Though DStv beams into Zimbabwe, ordinary people are left with no
choice but to rely on rumours.
Joining a queue for scarce
items usually turns out to be a good way of keeping abreast with
the goings-on. The recent power-sharing talks were a good example
of street news editing. On Monday morning, a few nervous glances
up and down a long queue at Standard Bank in Harare was the cue
for someone to break the latest news. A nervous character told people
around him that talks had stalled in Johannesburg. "Chematama
[the one with chubby cheeks] still refuses to sign," announced
the self- styled news reporter. Everyone within earshot immediately
knew that Tsvangirai had opted out. The banking hall was stunned
into silence. Some people starred at their news "source"
in disbelief. He instinctively raised his hand to make sure his
doubters could see his cellphone. "I got an SMS from South
Africa," he said. It was enough to convince his listeners.
If the noose around the media is tightened any further, word-of-mouth
reporters could lose their front teeth and have their mouths padlocked.
Perhaps the lack of information accounts for the surprising lack
of angst among Zimbabweans living on a political knife edge.
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