Mount Pleasant, Harare—Innocent Matshe is the chairman of the Economics department at the University of Zimbabwe. To him, I am Alex, a Canadian sociology student. Whether he believes this or not I don’t know, but he accepts my unannounced visit with relaxed good humour and ushers me into his office.

“In order to understand Zimbabwe’s current situation,” he says, “you need to know about three things.”

First, about the IMF’s “structural adjustment” requirements of the early nineties, which decimated social spending across the board and whose only measurable outcome was a massive rise in foreign debt.

Second, about the protest march led by Zimbabwe’s former freedom fighters on President Mugabe’s Statehouse in 1997. Mugabe, who derives most of his popularity from his credentials as a freedom fighter, was panicked by the protest, and made a spontaneous, unbudgeted payout to the country’s 50,000-plus guerillas of over $5,000 each.

“In a country with a population of thirteen million, that’s a crippling portion of the national purse,” says Matshe. “The next day—Black Friday—Zimbabwe’s dollar lost 71% of its value against the greenback.�?

And thirdly, about Zimbabwe’s entry in 1998 into the Democratic Republic of Congo’s civil war, an adventure “which to this day no one knows the precise cost of.”

Together, these three factors brought the country to the verge of bankruptcy on the eve of the presidential elections in 2000.

“But they were as nothing compared to what came next,” Matshe continues.

Facing the distinct possibility of defeat at the polls, Mugabe instigated his now-famous land reforms which reduced the number of white farmers in Zimbabwe from around 4,000 to 300. “Everything went haywire.”

Elsewhere on this campus of crumbling stone buildings, brown lawns and purple jacaranda trees, Jubilee and Agreement feel otherwise. The two English students have a more favourable view of the government, citing their nation’s woes as the result of “disagreements with the West.”

An examination questions are posted on the bulletin board outside their lecture hall:

“The poets in Mabvumira Enhetembo (1969) pursued apolitical issues because the viciousness of the colonial system allowed them no leverage to address issues that had to do with the liberation and emancipation of African people. Discuss.”

In a shaded alcove beside the Crop Science building, a group of students tells me everyone knows who’s going to win the next election in March.

“It’s obvious. They control everything—there’s no point even in voting.”

“What?” exclaims another. “If you don’t vote, how can you complain?”

A brief debate ensues about the merits of participating in a rigged election.

On the issue of why Zimbabwe is so breathtakingly broke, however, everyone agrees. “The government,” they cry, almost in unison, in the tone of voice you’d use to address a child or a simpleton.

There is little love lost here for the current regime, but few ideas about how to change it.

“Last July we organized a small demonstration outside student housing to protest tuition increases. The police came with teargas—”

“You have to admit, the protestors themselves were a little violent.”

“All protests are violent!”

“Anyway, now we’ve all been kicked out of our residence. The only people allowed to stay there are foreign students.”

“So what’s it like in Canada?”

“Canada’s good,” I tell them.

“Can you get a job when you graduate?”

“Maybe not the exact one you’re looking for. But yes.”

“How much do clothes cost?”

“These pants were forty dollars.”

“Forty dollars! American?” That is a doctor’s monthly wage in Zimbabwe.

“What is the AIDS rate?”

“I don’t know—less than one percent.”

“Oh my god! Ladies, are you interested or what?” says a young man, gesturing at me to the girls.

My turn again. Don’t you feel a touch nervous talking to a foreigner about politics? I ask.

“Why should we? We can talk to whoever we like.”

“Besides, you’re just a student like us.”

“What do you want to do after you graduate?”

“Leave the country.”

“But it’s hard if you don’t have any family outside Zimbabwe, or a lot of money.”

“Why don’t you sneak across the border?”

“That’s for unskilled workers. For us, there’s no point.”

“If you have an education, there’s no way you can get a decent job without working papers. We don’t want to clean toilets.”

“It’s not like we want to leave. We love Zimbabwe, you know? Despite everything.”

“But everyone who can is leaving. Everyone!”

The students of Crop Science have one remaining professor in their department.

Tags: international, zimbabwe

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