Zimbabwe Human Rights NGO Forum: Report on violence against peaceful protestors in Harare inspiring to be a part of such a multiracial and joyful group of people in spite of the ominous police presence. Mike Auret was there. His towering yet calm and diplomatic presence gave me a lot of reassurance. The Police were trying their best to convince everyone that the gathering was an unlawful one. Apparently a few of the earlier arrivals had already been arrested for not “dispersing when instructed to do so”. Mike Auret asked everyone to sit on the road and led the group in prayer asking for God’s forgiveness for those leading Zimbabwe into such despair. Organisers reassured us that a court order was on its way, to prohibit the police from interfering in the peace march. True to their word, the order was produced shortly thereafter, together with word that other NCA supporters were on their way after being held up by the numerous police blocks. Suddenly there was a sound of cheering, because behind the row of riot police blocking our way, came a huge number of fellow marchers to help us set off. What did we need to actually get moving? MORE PEOPLE. There is such strength in numbers and this was one of the most obvious examples of how efforts to effect change in Zimbabwe were being frustrated by the lack of involvement of citizens of this country. We surged forward. People proudly carried posters with slogans like: “Cry Our Beloved Country”; “Stop This Nonsense”; “United We Stand; Peace For Zimbabwe”. The atmosphere amongst the marchers was a mixture of emotions. One Greek woman was so overcome by the occasion that she sobbed and shook. Others danced and whistled. Marchers greeted Saturday morning Harare shoppers with the MDC open hand gesture. At one stage an elderly white man in a wheel chair, struggled onto his crutches and made a few faltering steps forward. There were two white women pushing his wheelchair the length of the march until a young black schoolboy took over to give them a break. The “Over The Edge” theatre group was there, marching with colourful peace flowers in their hair. All through the city, onlookers encouraged the marchers by greeting them with a raised open hand symbolising the huge support for peace and a new leadership in this country. At a construction site in Jason Moyo Avenue, hundreds of construction workers in bright blue overalls voiced their united approval and support as we marched by. Marching with children caused a mixture of emotion in me. At the beginning when the children were faced by a row of arrogant and aggressive riot police with batons in hand and tear gas on their hip, they were visibly shaken and upset. “I want to go home” was tearfully suggested a number of times. But once we had got going, they settled down and I could feel the wonder in them. How amazing it is at eight years of age, under a despicably oppressive government, to take over the centre of Harare. I continually emphasised to them that if something was wrong, how could we not join together and try to change things? The relationship between the marchers and onlookers (pedestrians, motorists, shopkeepers) was friendly and the marchers showed complete respect for peoples’ property. No-one was hurt and nor was property vandalised in any way. Unfortunately, roughly two hours from the time the peace march set off, at the corner of Union Avenue and First Street a group of so-called war vets ambushed the Peace March. I can’t emphasise enough that these were not war vets but rather ZANU (PF) paid thugs. They were young and violent and they were looking for whites. How is it that the police allowed them into the city to violently attack a peaceful demonstration? The police, instead of repelling the violent mob that disrupted the march, chose to fire teargas at the fleeing NCA supporters. Film footage shows the police running with the disgusting thugs, chasing the marchers. Patricia and my family made a desperate attempt to avoid tear gas canisters and the stampede of people trying to get away from both the police (how ironic) and the thugs. In a way I think it was lucky that we had two little boys with us. We were so focused on their safety that we made sure to get out of the firing line. Patricia wasn’t so lucky. She had noticed a blind busker sitting in his usual downtown spot playing - 10 -