admin“Data” about Zimbabwe is developed somewhere, to serve Western political interests, and then it is recycled, repeated by hundreds of websites all over the Internet. Old reports are not updated when the situation improves. Incorrect statistics are hardly challenged.
I don’t want to discuss all this now. One day I will, I promise, and in detail.
Now the world is in turmoil: President Hugo Chavez is dead; he passed away or, as some believe, he was assassinated. And this poor and ravished continent — Africa — is experiencing the latest wave of carnage sponsored and organised by several Western nations. From West Africa to Somalia, from Mali to DR Congo, flames, tanks, aircraft, drones, and also misery and hopelessness are once again killing millions.
As Chavez, proud leader of the global opposition and a favourite punching bag of Western propaganda, was put to rest, I took off from Nairobi. Three hours later I found myself approaching Harare International Airport, endless plains and fantastic rock formations under the wing of the Brazilian-made Embraer of Kenyan Airways.
I had to do it; I had to come, as a gesture, as my tribute to the Latin American revolution, as my internationalist duty towards Africa. Instead of mourning Chavez, I decided to continue working for the revolution that he triggered and which I always tried to be part of.
“The world’s least liveable city on earth,” I read before coming here, “The worst city on earth”. There were expat surveys, surveys by The Economist and, at some point, surveys that “leniently” depicted Harare as the forth worst city on earth, not the worst, in 2012.
I am used to working in war zones and in the most hopeless and dangerous slums. I am used to the cities of the sub-continent, of DR Congo, of Haiti. I survived many Western outposts all over the world, officially glorified but collapsed urban centres like Jakarta, Nairobi, Kampala, Djibouti, Phnom Penh, and Cairo.
I was not afraid of “horrible” Harare. But I was not convinced by reports coming from the West. That’s why I decided to return to Zimbabwe. Once again, I would use my own eyes and ears and my own brain, challenging the official propaganda coming from London and Washington.
Harare International Airport is simple but modern. The staff appears to be unmotivated and slow, but they are friendly and in possession of great sense of humour. There is no tension and there are no insults, no power games, as at Nairobi airport, or in Phnom Penh. No throwing passport to your face and no finger printing and photographing (as is done at all Third World airports that are known for sending intelligence to the West; from Bangkok to Nairobi).
After I purchase my visa on arrival, immigration officers can’t find change. I have to wait for five minutes. While I am waiting, we chat about the Kenyan elections.
Soon after, I am driven through green and quiet streets, some carrying fairly interesting names like Benghazi and Julius Nyerere, towards Harare’s modern and elegant city centre.
Right from the beginning, something just does not feel right. The worst city on earth: I search for sandbags and gunners like in New Delhi or Mumbai, for gangs roaming the streets like in Colon in Panama, for the garbage-clogged rivers and horrid pollution of Jakarta or Alexandria. I see nothing like that here; no appalling slums and no burning fires, real or metaphoric.
There are a few beggars on the sidewalks, but fewer than there are in New York or Paris. The pavement is often broken, uneven, even potholed, but it is nothing compared to Kampala.
And then, as I am slowly approaching my hotel in the centre of the city, it strikes me that, at least through the window of a car, Harare could be described as a beautiful city! Of course, it is not as stunning as Cape Town, it is on a much smaller scale, but in a very modest way it is very attractive.
I pinch myself. I blink few times, quickly. I ask my driver to slap my face, but he refuses.
“Why, sir?” he appears bewildered.
“But . . .” I mumble. “Harare appears to be a very nice place.”
“It is”, replies driver.
“But . . .” I continue to wonder, “It is supposed to be the most terrible town on earth.”
“Who says?”
“The newspapers in the West. . . The reports, surveys . . .”
“Oh”, the driver smiled. “Then we should slap their faces, not yours. For lying, you know . . .”
I suggest this: Let’s not talk about the President and about the past and political present of the country. Let me just take you for a long walk through Harare, so you can get to know the city described by our propagandists as the worst, absolutely the worst, in the world. And let me throw a few images into the bargain.
Just stay by my side and let’s walk, for several days, searching for the truth.
But before we stroll, let’s listen to some voices from the UK and the US — those that are manufacturing public opinion all over the world.
On September 7, 2011, iAfrica reported:
A top research group on Thursday rated Zimbabwe’s capital as the worst of 140 world cities in which to live. The British-based Economist Intelligence Unit said its researchers excluded cities in Libya, Iraq and other war zones. Harare, where power and water outages occur daily, scored a 38 percent “liveability rating,” the group said.
The group said the threat of civil unrest and the availability of public health care and public transport in Harare were intolerable. Energy and water supplies were undesirable, it said, calling phones and Internet services uncomfortable. . .
In 2009 the BBC claimed that Zimbabwe’s women had an average life expectancy of 34 years and that men on average did not live past 37. That information was duplicated by countless websites.
Other BBC reports were republished word by word by thousands of news and reference outlets, including Wikipedia:
The health system has more or less collapsed. By the end of November 2008, three of Zimbabwe’s four major hospitals had shut down, along with the Zimbabwe Medical School, and the fourth major hospital had two wards and no operating theatres working. Due to hyperinflation, those hospitals still open are not able to obtain basic drugs and medicines.
Predictably, the official propaganda news agency of the UK threw in colourful words like “genocide” and “tragedy”, and selected quotes from several medics who blamed the situation on the Zimbabwean Government.
Not one glimpse of diversity, no arguments from “the other side”.
Not even a word about what the majority of those in the southern part of Africa believe, or even what some members of the Western establishment have recently confirmed.
According to African Globe (November 17, 2012):
The United States government has, for the first time, admitted that the illegal sanctions it imposed destroyed Zimbabwe’s economy and were hurting ordinary people. Incoming US Ambassador to Zimbabwe David Bruce Wharton made the admission yesterday at a media round-table discussion in Harare and pledged to work with authorities in Zimbabwe and the US to normalise relations. The admission comes after the World Diamond Council said it was also engaging the US government and the European Union to lift sanctions they imposed on Marange diamonds, despite Zimbabwe having received the Kimberly Process Certification Scheme nod to export the gems.
But I promised: No politics. . . Let’s just walk and see.
The “Trauma Centre and Hospital Harare” is in a quiet part of the city and it could easily qualify as one of the most elegant medical facilities I have seen elsewhere in the world. It is stylish, full of artwork, and at the same time high-tech and immaculately clean.
I greet two representatives working at the reception area. One of them is Ana — a young, sophisticated lady who came to Zimbabwe from Serbia.
“I came here to see whether Harare has any operation theatres”, I mumble, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “You see, there are some reports that say that the capital shut down all of its hospitals, or at least all its operation theatres.”
“Now it’s out,” I thought, expecting blows. Instead I receive a big and welcoming smile.
“Would you like some water, of coffee? We can show you around. Before you came, there was already one film crew that was investigating the same issue.”
I am taken to a high-tech emergency room, equipped with the latest technology.
Then I am asked to take off my shoes, and to change my clothes. Next thing I realise, I am wearing a white coat and being taken through a sterilisation room to two operation theatres that look more like the interior of a space ship. Surgery rooms are not the places where I would normally choose to spend my evenings, but these are damn beautiful surgery rooms! And, above all, despite what they say in London, they actually do exist!
“Let me take one photo of you, standing next to the operation theatre, so they don’t say in England or the US that the images are pirated from some medical journal”, Ana says laughing.
“We have specialised Laminar flow theatres used for key hole surgery, and orthopaedics. . .” I keep taking notes. I have no clue what she is talking about, but what I see looks definitely impressive. Ana continues: “Thoracic and vascular surgeons are available at the hospital. We have neurosurgeons on call . . .”
After the tour I am invited to drink coffee with Dr Vivek Solanki, owner of the hospital.
“I should not be speaking about the competition”, he smiles, “but in Harare we have plenty of operational hospitals, with decent to excellent operation theatres. It is all propaganda, about the medical care in this country. Of course, there was a very short and tough period around 2008, but it did not last long.”
l Andre Vltchek is a novelist, filmmaker and investigative journalist. He covered wars and conflicts in dozens of countries. His book on Western imperialism in the South Pacific — Oceania — is published by Lulu. His provocative book about post-Suharto Indonesia and market-fundamentalist model is called “Indonesia — The Archipelago of Fear” (Pluto). After living for many years in Latin America and Oceania, Vltchek presently resides and works in East Asia and Africa. He can be reached through his website. This article is reproduced from www.trinicenter.com
l To be continued
Online Reporter