informage

"Outside is Zimbabwe, here is Kufunda. Welcome!" declares the friendly dredlocked "kufundee" - who has driven me from the airport - as we cross the threshold of the farm. After a few days and a trip to Harare I come to appreciate his sentiment: Kufunda seems likes a world removed from the hectic bedragalled city life that lies less than an hour's drive away. The kufundees live in self-built housing around a central village circle and meet regularly for circle meetings, where overall vision and specific plans are discussed, every attendee garnering equal respect and listening. As well as developing the village itself, Kufunda is currently working with five rural communities, giving struggling Zimbabweans training in self-suffiency and sustainable methodologies. I myself am here to attend an 'Art of Hosting' workshop to learn about an practice hosting group workshops, with the focus on creating environments that foster open mutual learning.

The place itself is a picture of serenity, embedded within lush trees and vibrant flowers are the simple thatched roof structures where we eat, sleep and explore which ingredients make a conversation "that rocks". The nature around us spills over into everything: the suprisingly tasty organic food we eat, the ants that one night wake me up so that I can experience a bat swooping over my bed, the strange orange caterpillars that cluster together immobile on the trees like lichen - "we don't know what they are, they're a bit weird - don't touch them" I'm told. Every night the kufundees collect around the outdoor fire and sing, laugh and joke. It's like being invited into Tolkien's Shire for a five night stay, packaged up with some instruction on how it's all possible.

Although I have the privilege to see this positive strand within Zimbabwe, it's evident that even here political repression is the elephant in the room. There are a few light half-whispered references to "Bob" and his adventures, to "vote-rigging" when I collect feedback forms at the end of the workshop, but in general the topic is not addressed. I question one of my better friends amongst the kufundees at lunchtime: "No, that is not open here, cannot be open here. There is a ceiling, a very real ceiling, on what we can discuss". When pushed he concedes "maybe two or three of us, when we're alone together, maybe then we can talk about such things". It would be too much to ask him to state his own position - I am but an interloper, and don't wish to take lightly the risk that any politically explicit expression carries in this country.

One young workshop attendee has a vivid experience of that risk: his name is 'Biko' and, perhaps in honour of the man after whom he is named, he is a rebellious student activist and rap artist. He is currently homeless having moved out of his digs in fear of retribution, even of attempts on his life. Talking to him after the workshop finishes, there's no doubt that his highlight has been to meet his namesake's widow - Ntsiki Biko - who was a fellow attendee. She travelled here with two Canadian interns working in the original Biko's hometown in the Eastern Cape of South Africa, to learn some techniques that might improve communication in the HIV/AIDS victim support organisation where she works.

On my final day I am the last workshop attendee left behind, and so end up having breakfast at the main farmhouse with Marianne's mother. We drink delicious locally grown coffee and I refuse a boiled egg for a cheese and tomato toasted sandwich. Mrs K throws out a comment about returning from the office, I ask a throwaway question - "your office is in downtown Harare?" and her reply confirms something I had already heard allusions to but not quite registered: "actually I just went to the airport this morning. The president left on a trip for Nigeria, and I thought as the boss is away I'll spend the day at home".

I had noticed tensions between Marianne and her mother over a political conversation the night before. The topic of discussion had been "why Zimbabwe?" and that is indeed a good question. Sure, there is much to abhor about the regime, but why is it being particularly highlighted by western media? I think there is an element of humiliation that a country that was seen as a beacon for capitalist-friendly post-colonial transformation has slipped so far. Whilst many other post-colonial countries around the world have equally oppressive regimes, few of them were as deeply permeated by the colonial culture as Zimbabwe was by British culture. Of course Mugabe himself plays along with this tune, taunting the west with his absolute rejection of any kind of compromise.

I hadn't quite clicked until this last day that Mrs K - on whose land Kufunda lies - is actually on Mugabe's payroll. You could either see this as undermining the whole Kufunda ethos, or as a glorious piece of subversive community-building right under the tyrant's nose. Mrs K herself seems like a fine woman, from what I heard she does good work in the health department, encouraging community generated schemes that address low level opportunistic AIDS-related infections with properly tested and verified herbal medicines. One young Zimbabwean student here in SA suggested to me a few weeks ago that without the corrupt top layer, ZANU-PF may yet be capable of forming a democratic and equitable government. Certainly I've yet to meet a Zimbabwean who believes the MDC offers much more than the prospect of opening Zimbabwe to the ravages of economic explotation by agricultural multinationals.

So I'm leaving this real-life Mordor with more question than answers. I've witnessed a Shire-like environment that thrives under the protection of Sauron himself, albeit unknowingly. If only it were as easy here as in Tolkien to identify the good guys and the bad guys, the good places and the bad places. After my time in Zimbabwe I've come to believe that this nation's story is more complex and multi-layered than it seems from the outside. Zimbabweans are a warm and creative people, and I wish the country success through the many-pronged challenges they face in the years ahead.