allAfrica.com: Zimbabwe: Hush in a Land That Has Ground to a Halt (Page 1 of 1)

TWO or three South African Police Service trucks packed with failed border-jumpers still arrive at the town of Beitbridge every day.

Sometimes hired buses also bring illegals to the International Organisation for Migration's refugee reception centre on the Zimbabwe side.

But the numbers are hardly comparable to the multitudes waiting in the queue snaking out of SA's passport control, waiting to enter SA. On the footbridge, shoppers and still others walk, albeit only at day for fear of being mugged after dark.

When the power goes off in Beitbridge, as it frequently does, so does the water and the cellphone network. But there is quiet acceptance of the situation, just as the country's politics is the subject of hushed discussions among friends.

Zimbabwe feels like a place that has ground to a halt.

There are hardly any buses or minibuses on the roads, so any means of transport will do. Much of the country feels deserted and many people seem to be making plans to leave.

Politics appears to be the stuff of those who cannot leave immediately. Activist groups speak of addressing the media in SA or opening an office in Johannesburg.

Along Beitbridge's main thoroughfare there is no whiff of politics, not in conversations or on posters. The pretence of normality is unbearable.

It is the same in Harare, where despite the ashen complexions and Vaseline-shiny faces, plans are being made. For instance, 23-year-old Grace, who is in the military police, takes my number and wants me to help her get a job in SA where her young sister is living. It is the same in most places.

"People are tired. They are weak and hungry. They have lived through so much and they don't want to get beaten," said former parliamentarian Trudy Stevenson, explaining the lack of enthusiasm for a presidential runoff election.

Beneath the Shona hubbub, there is little information or explanation of why election results have not been announced. Newspapers do not help. They resort to blatant misinformation. Public radio is no better.

Ahead of last Friday's independence celebrations, the radio profiled long-dead national heroes and played some of their favourite music -- American jazz or seventies hits.

The unease is part of the daily reality manifested by extreme politeness to strangers. In the traffic, a minor transgression is likely to yield an apology. But Harare's emptiness is accentuated by the lack of traffic, let alone traffic jams. Traffic is made up mainly of vehicles of the remaining companies that can afford fuel. Commuters are forced to use the overburdened, inefficient trains.

But it does not look so bad for the police and army, who have their own buses. Occasionally, a white bus with Zimbabwe's national colours -- also Zanu (PF)'s colours -- down its side goes by. Found all across the country, they are part of the fleet bought with taxpayers' money and distributed nationwide by President Robert Mugabe during the election campaign.

Food is the preoccupation in most places. Bread is unavailable and where it appears, long queues quickly form. Mealie meal has not been in the shops since the end of last year. Many of those who have it get it from relatives in the rural areas. Sweet potatoes are, in places, the new staple. But because of the season's heavy rains, the prediction is that food will run out long before the next harvest.

Cresta Oasis is a city hotel where breakfast now resembles a frugal African meal, with chicken livers added. Some days hard scones take the place of bread. But the staff are exceedingly polite, doting on the black-only clientele with none of the haughtiness Jo'burgers complain about it. "How was the food? It's important to enjoy your money when you pay for breakfast," says one without a hint of irony.

At Agriculture House, the head office of the Commercial Farmers' Union , president Trevor Gifford is having a busy day responding to media inquiries. He says two black farmers along with white landowners were targeted in a mass mobilisation campaign ahead of an expected runoff in the presidential election . He says it all started after the ruling party's politburo meeting after the March 29 elections.

Mbare is one of Harare's oldest suburbs. If there is to be a protest in Harare, it will start in Mbare, which still has the hordes, though the market is a shadow of its former self -- thanks to the government's Operation Murambatsvina (Clean Up).

Liquo r store owner James Mambo says that since the elections he has had record sales. To replenish his stock he has to join the queue at the brewery before dawn. During working hours or at the weekend, customers come in and just stay. "It's all because of the political stress," he says.

Bulawayo, the country's second-largest city, is the worse for wear. There is little sign it used to be Zimbabwe's best-run city. Gaping potholes can be found in virtually all the roads. Garbage is no longer collected in the townships, leading to infestations of rats. The tap water is murky brown and does not appear safe to drink. When the sun sets, everybody retreats indoors, partly because there is never any transport to get around, but also because of the all-consuming darkness. It is hard to find any functioning public lights.

As a Jehovah's Witness, Julian did not vote. But she follows the latest developments on satellite TV. Inviting friends over for a braai is something she and her husband can no longer afford. She complains that since the end of last year there has been no learning in the schools. Teachers simply sit in the staff room.

Julian is animated by President Thabo Mbeki's comment that there is no crisis in Zimbabwe. "What planet is he living on?" she asks.

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