ZIMBABWE

Out of Africa

In the 1960s, one of the catchcries of the anti-apartheid movement seeking the boycott of South African athletes was ‘no normal sport in an abnormal society’. So judgemental. Surely, that should have been ‘differently abled’ society. And hey, what’s ‘normal sport’ anyway? Curling. Zorbing. Cheese Rolling. You can’t tell me those are normal.

Similar thinking seems to underlie apparent indifference to the prospect of the Australian cricket team touring Zimbabwe in September. Oh, it’s such a shame about Zimbabwe, isn’t it? Millions starving and not so much as a pop concert. But, well, it’s hardly as important as Kevin Rudd’s 4WD, is it? There’s bound to be a ‘root cause’ or two in there somewhere; probably a few ‘double standards’, too. Say what? John Howard and Alexander Downer don’t think they should go? Well, there you are: would you buy a used foreign policy from these men?

Ricky Ponting, meanwhile, agrees it could be a tad dicey – but you never know, do you? ‘It’s such a long way away yet,’ he told journalists during the World Cup. ‘Anything could happen between now and then in Zimbabwe. We’ll see what happens.’ If he batted like he talked, Ponting would be timed out in every innings. When Australia bravely flew in and out of Zimbabwe for their World Cup fixture in 2003 inside twenty-four hours – security reasons, you understand – Ponting declined to say whether he would shake Robert Mugabe’s hand on the grounds that it was a hypothetical question. Perhaps they didn’t tell him how to answer those at the Academy.

Yet in terms of the general situation regarding the evolving scenario vis-à-vis on-going long-range optimisation Mugabe-wise, Ponting has a way to go before he out-wimps Thabo Mbeki, South Africa’s serene prime minister, advocate of dealing with his old chum Mugabe by ‘quiet diplomacy’. Mbeki’s perspective? ‘The point really about all this from our perspective has been that the critical role we should play is to assist the Zimbabweans to find each other, really to agree among themselves about the political, economic, social [and] other solutions that their country needs.’

Alas, the only Zimbabweans that Mugabe wishes to find are members of the Movement for Democratic Change, the country’s endlessly persecuted opposition coalition. And it doesn’t need diplomacy, quiet, noisy or otherwise, to determine that what Zimbabweans mainly agree on is that they’re hungry. Mugabe’s ruinous ‘land reforms’ have reduced a hearty agricultural exporter to a country that can barely cover a third of its grain needs. We’ll deal with the human rights violations, the crushing of the free press and independent judiciary, the GDP that has halved since 2000, the 2000 per cent inflation, the eighty per cent unemployment, the unofficial exchange rate of US$1 to Z$25,000, the three million refugees, the national median age of nineteen and the life-expectancy of thirty-seven for males and thirty-four for females … well, later. Much, much later.

Against all this, of course, a cricket tour is a trifle. But in Zimbabwe, the old chestnut that sport and politics should not mix doesn’t have a lot of traction – if it ever did. Zimbabwe Cricket (formerly the Zimbabwe Cricket Union) is now hardly more than a ZANU-PF front: after a long period of exercising increasing suasion, the Sport and Recreation Commission officially took over its offices in January last year to break a deadlock between ZC and recalcitrant provincial boards. ‘Reform’ began – using, that is, its Mugabe definition. New national and provincial boards were constituted, composed in the main of malleable cronies of the regime. Their zeal to serve may have something to do with the expectation of big payments from the International Cricket Council for Zimbabwe’s participation in last year’s Champions Trophy and the recent World Cup.

Mugabe, of course, famously declared in 1984: ‘Cricket civilises people and creates good gentlemen. I want everyone in Zimbabwe to play cricket.’ On present trends, everyone who wishes will enjoy the opportunity to play international cricket. Not a single member of the last Zimbabwe team to play a Test against Australia remains in the XI. Their able young captain when last they met Australia in a one-day international, Tatenda Taibu, fled Zimbabwe eighteen months ago after being threatened by a ZANU-PF hardliner and having had the police turn up at his home to repossess his Zimbabwe Cricket car.

Zimbabwe’s benighted cricketers, in fact, are regularly humiliated by absurd, pettifogging rules, like last year’s ban on dreadlocks: three complied under sufferance; a fourth left the country. They are barely paid. Their previous coach has recently revealed that he wasn’t paid at all; their World Cup squad were forced to sign their contracts on the spot on pain of omission, and their fees have been withheld until June to prevent an immediate exodus. Three players were even briefly jailed on trumped-up foreign exchange violations. Not surprisingly, Zimbabwe are a shadow of the half-way decent team they were a decade ago, and now rate behind Ireland in world one-day rankings. Fortunately, perhaps, the Zimbabwe Broadcasting Corporation did not telecast any matches; apparently it was unable to afford the US$50 for a satellite technician to obtain the signal from South Africa. The act of touring Zimbabwe, then, is effectively doing business with a branch of a government that is an international pariah. Even if Ponting and co want to stick to their ‘no-morality-please-we’re-sportsmen’ shtick, there is an argument that Zimbabwe Cricket is no longer an administrative body with whom Cricket Australia should have reciprocal relations.

Yet it should never have come to this. Perhaps the International Cricket Council should have done more. Because – prepare to be amazed – they have done squat. Perhaps the Australian government could have provided firmer guidance; perhaps more information should have been made available to the public. But – well – why? So professional sportsmen should not have to show an ounce of curiosity and exercise their consciences? The Australian rugby player Tony Abrahams who declined to play against the Springboks in 1971 was once asked how difficult it was for him to speak out. Difficult? ‘It wasn’t that difficult,’ he said. ‘I mean, it seems to me, looking back on it, but even then, that it was probably one of the clearest issues you could make a stand on.’ Australian cricket shames itself every day it dallies.

The Monthly June 2007