What about the children?
On Friday the Tree of Life team sat with parents from Epworth and Whitecliffe communities and heard about their fears for their children.
This time last year
when the youth militia rampaged through their neighbourhoods in ‘preparation’ for the elections
the children went through the most terrifying ordeals one can imagine.
They were taken to the militia bases,
they watched their mothers being raped,
their fathers beaten and tortured
and they were beaten and raped themselves
they watched their houses being burned down
and their parents killed
the fabric of their lives destroyed
and a year later they still live in the ashes
with old memories haunting their dreams
Nothing has been done for the children
‘They visited hell’ said one mother who had her 8 year old son taken for 3 months
‘and they still live in fear – for it has not gone away
they are still training the militia for the next elections’
And then we began speaking of the healing
and of Chiyedza offering her skills in drama and counselling
to go out to the communities to help teach new ways of working
We heard people offer their small houses as venues
and their time to learn techniques of counselling
These people who have been stripped of their livelihoods
volunteering to help protect the orphans
and repair the damage
what little they had – they were prepared to share.
‘For these children are the parents of the new generations’ they said
Utterly shaken we came out of the meeting
to the news that the years funding we had asked for
had been reduced to a bridging loan for 3 months
Throughout civic society
those groups who, on meagre budgets, have helped with the healing
and with gathering the orphans
the groups that help hold the dignity of the nation
are struggling to survive
'there is no money for Zimbabwe (global economic crisis/ unstable government/uncertainty/hold up in funding/etc.) sorry for that'
so we have to wait
wait for the children
a year
a lifetime
It is mid-winter
the leaves are falling
the grass is dry
beige-gold world lit by the first crimson lucky bean trees
and filled with butterflies
* This poem was originally featured on .
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