Dear Mr. Mugabe,
I am not a Zimbabwean, but I care deeply about the fate of the people, who live in your beautiful country famous for Victoria Falls, amazing wildlife, and you: one of the most ridiculed leaders in the world. You are ridiculed, because hate, as you have shown, will not change the lives of those who hate and will only pour more fuel into the fire. You are ridiculed, because you have overstayed your welcome. Wakura baba.
But I do not want to ridicule you today, Mr. Mugabe. I want to thank you. Many people were forced to leave Zimbabwe thanks to you and your policies. My husband was one of them. I would not have met him if it weren’t for you. Who would voluntarily leave paradise? He taught me the history, traditions and customs of Zimbabwe, he showed me the wonderful places where he spent his childhood and I have come to know Zimbabweans as the most friendly, kind and resilient people in the world. I thank you for all my Zimbabwean friends, who have left the country, because your hunger for power is insatiable.
I respect your fight for freedom and understand your reasons for wanting equal rights for your own people. Being an Estonian, I am very familiar with the pride you feel for taking hold of the reigns from a foreign power. You had the chance of remaining in the national consciousness and discourse of history as an honorary freedom fighter, as someone, who selflessly fought for your people’s personal and political rights. Instead, the whole world, including Zimbabwe, will remember you as a senile dictator, who ate his birthday cake in the middle of a starving village while the country was in a state of disaster.
I went to Zimbabwe in December 2012 for the first time. My husband and I were excited to move to Zimbabwe and build a life in your unbelievably beautiful and unbelievably unfortunate country. I started to learn Shona, I wrote my MA thesis on Zimbabwe to learn more; we dreamed of life in paradise, where the community is at the centre of everything and people take care of each other. It is the Zimbabwean way and it is rare.
I went back to Zimbabwe in January 2016. The Zimbabwean way is no more. The new Zimbabwean way is surviving, which means people need to look after themselves first. I am saddened by what you and your ruling elite have done. I am not even a Zimbabwean and it hurts me. Seeing friends and family having to give up hopes of ever moving back home is heart-breaking. Those left are busy finding ways to leave. Where will Zimbabwe be in 10 years’ time without surgeons, engineers, honest businessmen, teachers and transparent politicians?
How can you continue in this position while knowing your compatriots don’t have any sadza for dinner? How can you claim to be a leader when your mapurisa is out of control? Where is the justice you promised for children, who have to work to eat? How can Zimbabweans grow up to take pride in their country when the students of one of your best schools, which is only a stone throw away from your magnificent palace, run barefoot, in school uniforms, on the streets of Harare, in their PE class?
Please don’t tell me about El Niño, the British or any other mascots you have chosen to take the bullets for you. You fought for freedom; you have been an independent country for a long time, yet you have not taken the responsibility for the people of Zimbabwe and the freedom you achieved.
Why do you silence people, who want to speak against you? Are you afraid of dialogue, because it is too late to right your wrongs? Dear Mr. Mugabe, will you die a proud man?
Proudly a self-proclaimed honorary Zimbo,