I'm in occasional contact with my friend Rob who lives in Harare. Along with the whole world I was hoping this month to celebrate the freedom of Zimbabwe from tyrrany. Rob had promised that when its safe to visit we'll fly up to Mana and drink a cold beer as the sun sets on the Zambezi, and talk about the time they almost lost the country, but found the courage and determination to win it back.

Sadly I don't think that is anytime soon. Rob has today sent me an article that I'm pleased to publish here. And he's recommended an excellent activist's website, so do take a look at http://www.sokwanele.com/

Harare, April 19 2008

There has been a huge amount of interest by the international community, diplomatic and media, and by the general public, in the Zimbabwe crisis in the past three weeks. Much of the reporting has been very good. Some has been extremely poor. All of us, pretty much without exception, were caught up in the euphoria in early April when it became clear that the MDC had swept the board, and Mugabe was "finished".

Well, that was a mistake, wasn't it?

It might be a good idea to start with the reasons why Mugabe is so unlikely to step down quietly.

There are around 500 people for whose benefit Zimbabwe is currently run. Perhaps it's a thousand. Certainly it is less than a tenth of a percent of the population. They are senior members of the ruling party, of the armed forces and security establishment, and a select few around those key members. Imagine, if you like, that Zimbabwe is a village, with a chief; a Dare, or council of elders; and a few hundred villagers. There are then several thousand goats, and chickens, and head of cattle, and guinea fowl. And there are a few million stalks of maize, and soya, and Marula trees. The livestock and the crops are more or less disposable. The village can't survive if there are none at all, but no individual goat or stalk of maize is

necessary to the well-being of the village. On the other hand, all the five hundred inhabitants know each other, are connected to each other, and although sometimes there are falling outs, they all look after one another when necessary.

This is not just an Orwellian metaphor. It is quite clear that the elite, the five hundred, or a thousand, have no more sense of responsibility to the people than a farmer does to his chicken, or his corn. Of course, he'll look after it up to a point; but he'll have no compunction about cutting its throat or taking a scythe to the field if that's what's needed.

These five hundred, or a thousand, surround Mugabe. They are his entire constituency. They ensure that he hears only two messages from his people: "The country will be colonised again if you don't keep fighting" and "Everything is fine and everybody loves you."  

The elite have had their snouts in the trough for so long that they have failed to  notice the way the masses have turned against them.

For ten years ZANU PF loyalists have convinced themselves that the MDC and the democratic opposition was a creation of the British, the Americans, and the white farmers. Any black member of the MDC is a sell-out and an Uncle Tom. Zanu have rigged the elections over the past few years, but they've never had to rig  extensively, and they were pretty sure that this time they'd fixed the problem for good.

Therefore they were absolutely flabbergasted when, three weeks ago today, the people of Zimbabwe rose up and threw them out.

For three or four days they reeled. Emissaries were sent to Tsvangarai's people, sounding out options for a government of national unity. Bob's wife and kids left the country – probably accompanied by the families of most of the top leadership.  

But now they are beating and brutalising and burning huts across the country to try to "encourage" people not to vote for the opposition should there be a run-off.

The MDC is utterly hamstrung. Never particularly good at showing courageous leadership when it is most needed, they have cowered and squabbled and acted like rabbits caught in the headlights of a juggernaut. 

Had the MDC brought a hundred thousand people out onto the streets at the beginning of April, we would probably have a handful of martyrs, and a new government.

But they had neither the courage, the wit, or the organisational skill to move when there was a chance. Now they cannot get more than three people together without the police and army descending on them.

I fear that the moment has passed.

This is not a game of football. I think we should all remind ourselves this, everyday. There is a rapidly narrowing window of opportunity. This month. Perhaps next.

After that, the country will be stolen from us for good.