In search of fuel

Orders for an end to the invasions have been ignored

By Grant Ferrett in Harare

I felt triumphant simply to have reached the farm owned by Mr and Mrs Wyrley-Birch, 150km north of Harare.

For the past two weeks I'd largely been confined to the capital by a petrol shortage.

Farmers have been hit by days and nights of protests

Finding fuel has become a national pastime, with motorists prepared to queue all night for the privilege of buying about quarter of a tank.

My trickiest fuel moment so far came a week after government supporters began invading white-owned farms.

The Home Affairs minister, Dumiso Dabengwa, called a news conference to announce his response to this apparent breakdown of law and order.

Since my car had no petrol, I decided to cycle.

I arrived rather red-faced and flustered from my exertions.

Mr Mugabe believes that bashing the whites and threatening to seize their land plays well with his supporters

Wearing a t-shirt and shorts, I put it to Mr Dabengwa, a man previously believed to be one of the most powerful in the country, that the farm invasions represented the panicked reaction of a government which was beginning to realise, after 20 years in office, that it was losing its grip on power.

I say "previously" believed to be one of the most powerful men in the country, because Mr Dabengwa's order for an immediate end to the invasions has been completely ignored by those taking part in them, as well as by the police.

Worse for Mr Dabengwa, his instructions have been flatly contradicted by President Mugabe.

That the 200 people who turned up several weeks ago on the verandah of Mr and Mrs Wyrley-Birch's farmhouse are doing the president's work is no longer in question.

The invasions, which have affected more than 650 farms across the country, are part punishment for the perceived role of white farmers in encouraging their workers to vote against the government's draft constitution last month, and part election campaign ahead of parliamentary polls scheduled for next month.

Mr Mugabe believes that bashing the whites and threatening to seize their land plays well with his supporters.

The farmers have generally shown remarkable restraint.

As we had lunch of roast beef and roast potatoes beneath pictures of prize-winning racehorses, Robin Wyrley-Birch described how he had called in a negotiating team to discuss with the invaders their demand for a large part of his farm.

Hardly war veterans

Whereas many of their colleagues have had to endure days and nights of drumming and singing of revolutionary songs by crowds camped on their doorsteps, the Wyrley-Birches' home has remained quiet.

The invaders were told that there were snakes near the homestead, and that they should go somewhere safer, somewhere five minutes' drive away, concealed behind trees and bushes and well away from any of the farms' operations.

The invaders, too, seemed very calm. From the road, they could be seen only by the smoke drifting up from the open fire on which bubbled a small pot of sadza, a maize-based porridge which is the staple diet of most black Zimbabweans.

Although referred to by most reporters as "War Veterans", these unemployed teenagers were far too young to have fought in the liberation war, which ended with independence 20 years ago.

Their tents consisted of no more than plastic sheeting draped between trees and crudely cut poles.

Non-violent

In recent days, their numbers have dwindled to about 20.

What did they think of the threats of violence made by their leaders towards white farmers?

They didn't approve. How long would they stay? As long as they were told to. To combat boredom, they sometimes went fishing in the farmer's dam.

They took me to see one of their leaders at a nearby bar. Red-eyed and clearly the worse for wear, he refused to tell me anything beyond the fact that he was waiting for instructions.

The bar was next door to a filling station owned by Mrs Wyrley-Birch. In what used to be a normal month she sold 300,000 litres of fuel.

Now she receives just 30,000 litres. We left, without fuel, with me still feeling grateful that a friend had taken me in his car.

On the way home we passed a group of opposition supporters who, in the absence of police action to remove the farm invaders, had taken it upon themselves to help the white farmers clear them off.

Again, the threat of anarchy becomes more real.

Back in Harare, the eternal search for fuel continues. Where did I compose these thoughts? Where else, but in a petrol queue?