SADC SUMMIT: MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING WHILE ZIMBABWE BURNS

The much hyped SADC summit that brought untold pain to peaceful Zimbabweans has now come and gone. All the noise, the violence, the arrests, the millions spent on villas and red carpets — and for what? A summit that turned out to be a damp squib. A big show with no substance. They came, they ate, they drank, and they left. As usual, it was leaders protecting each other from the people they claim to serve.

For Emmerson Mnangagwa and his SADC friends, it was never about the people. It was never about the suffering Zimbabwean. It was about power. It was about image. And yes, they kill for that power. They arrest for that image. They torture for that throne.

Can anyone tell us one new idea or resolution that came out of that summit? Just one thing we’ve never heard before? There is nothing. Just the same empty words, the same tired speeches, the same silence on human rights violations. The summit was a shield for repression. And for that shield to stand, innocent people had to fall.

Jameson Timba, a man loved by many, was arrested along with 78 others for simply gathering to mark Youth Day. These are people who posed no threat, who held no weapons, who wanted nothing more than to remember a day that stands for courage and youth voices. But for Mnangagwa, anyone gathering outside his control is a threat. So they were beaten, tortured, and locked away like dangerous criminals. All because one man keeps seeing shadows in every direction — shadows of a stolen crown.

Namatai Kwekweza, a peaceful human rights activist, is still in prison. Her crime? Being in the wrong place according to a paranoid state. A young woman whose only weapon is her voice, now treated like a war criminal. Locked up while the real criminals continue to loot, to lie, and to lead.

And now, Prince Dubeko Sibanda, another opposition leader, has been snatched at the border. Returning from South Africa, he found the wrath of a regime that fears its own people more than anything else. His arrest — like the others — didn’t come from a court, didn’t come from a lawful order. It came from ZANU PF functionaries. Orders from above. Above the law. Above reason. Above humanity.

This is the Zimbabwe we now live in — where the police take commands not from law books, but from political party offices. Where the Central Intelligence Organisation no longer protects the state, but guards stolen loot. They would arrest all of us if they could. In fact, if they could, they would prefer we didn’t exist. They would clear the land and live alone, with their families and their riches. That is the truth. Everyone is a threat to their stolen peace.

But no matter how hard they try, no matter how much fear they spread, they cannot erase the truth. It is their own weakness, their own paranoia, that gives us hope. Because one day, we shall rule over ourselves. In spite of the beatings. In spite of the jails. In spite of their guns. We still believe.

Now that their useless summit is over, can they at least release our people? Can the regime give us back our brothers and sisters? Can Timba go back to his family? Can that innocent baby who was arrested with its mother finally go home? If there is still such a thing as home in this country?

Because what is home in Zimbabwe today? It is pain. It is fear. It is broken. Home used to be where families laughed, where dreams were born, where children grew up free. But under Mnangagwa, home is now a cage. A land of shadows and whispers. A place where gathering for a meal can land you in a dungeon.

The SADC summit is gone. The lies were served. The champagne flowed. But the wounds remain. And so do we — still standing, still demanding, still dreaming of a Zimbabwe where no child sees the inside of a prison cell, and no mother cries behind bars.