morbid curiosity

Beginning a new job is always daunting and my first days at the Ministry of Education, Sport and Culture was no exception. Meeting work colleagues, going over the job description, establishing expectations and groundrules for my service were all standard procedure. My office was very simple, a desk, phone and a couple of chairs. During the first few days I recall sitting at my desk with very little to do except arrange my chairs in different locations of the office. I received a call from my boss telling me, without explanation, to lock my door and stay inside. This I promply did, waiting with the company of my furniture for what may happen next. There was a slight panic in my mind, but this was put at ease by the voice of women singing in the corridors outside my office. This continued for a few minutes until curiosity got the better of me and I opened the door. There, sitting on the floor, lined up against the far walls of the corridor, were women of various ages, singing a shona chant over and over. As I walked down the corridor and out towards the stairs it became clear that the women had gathered on the floors above. Nothing appeared threatening and I wandered donstairs towards the ground floor to see what was happening. On the stairs I met one of the ministry civil servants who prompted me to move outside the building. As we exited a group of security trucks were gathering in the street out front, and riot police in full regalia quickly formed a semi-circle around the entrance to the building. I stood transfixed at what was unfolding before me and was curious to see how the scene would play out. My colleague grabbed my arm and pulled me away towards a crowd gathering down the street. As we ran I heard a whistle blow and turned to see the riot police enter the building. Moments later droves of women came running out onto the streets, screaming. The less fortunate ones were kicked or beaten with truncheons across the head and body. The riot police followed the women up the street, firing tear gas to prevent them from returning or gathering again en-masse.

When it was all over the crowd dispersed and I returned to the Ministry building. The floors were already being mopped clean from the blood tarnished stains. A colleague from the finance department had a bleeding wound to his head from a stray baton. His suit and tie had done little to protect him from the mob which had a job to do upon entering the building.

I was told later that the women had been widows of soldiers who had lost their lives fighting for independence, which came in 1980. The widows had been promised compensation but had received little or nothing in the ensuing years. They had come to protest, to get some answers and ensure that their husbands sacrifice had not been forgotten. In the State run newspaper the next day there was a small article about the protest the previous day. It stated that the women had gathered but had ended peacefully after talks with the police! What the hell was I doing in a place like this?