The show may never be ready for Broadway, but all over Zimbabwe it’s packing them in. Some 370,000 people have flocked to open-air performances at bus stops, train stations and shopping centers in the past couple of months. A morality play about free speech and the right to vote, “Dare” has provoked not only cheers but stones and threats. More than once, outbursts of violence have forced a cast to flee midplay, leaving set and costumes behind.
Drama doesn’t end at the footlights these days in Zimbabwe. The presidential election is set for March 9 and 10, and President Robert Mugabe is battling for his political life. He’s counting on grass-roots support from a campaign to break up the nation’s big white-owned farms. But that effort is a disaster: farm production has plunged so badly that Zimbabwe is getting U.N. emergency food aid for the first time ever. Voters are expected to turn out in huge numbers for the opposition. If they do, and Mugabe keeps power through force or fraud, violence seems likely. The military has already cracked down on peaceful protests in the townships, and recently one top general hinted that the Army might not accept an opposition victory.
The arts have become a bastion of dissent. The opposition and independent press have been targets for bombings, beatings and arbitrary arrests for the past two years, ever since a fledgling reformist political party nearly won control of Parliament. Three weeks ago a new law banned any criticism of the president. Last week the head of the country’s independent press association fled the country, in fear of his life. But some musicians, writers and actors are fighting back. “We can be persecuted, but we will not stop,” says “Dare” codirector Walter Muparutsa, 61. “Those who attack us are like people who smash mirrors because they don’t like the face they see.”
It takes courage to keep performing. Zimbabwe’s acclaimed Amakhosi Theater Group caused a stir last year with “Two Cheers for a Patriot,” a tale of political harassment and police brutality. The show was allowed to open in Harare, but only after the Zimbabwe Republic Police questioned the producer three times and confiscated the actors’ police costumes, ordering them replaced with uniforms that didn’t look quite so authentic.
Intimidation is a thing many Zimbabwean artists are used to. Some have credentials that go all the way back to the liberation struggle of the 1970s. Muparutsa was jailed and his plays were banned under the white-minority regime of Ian Smith. Another old hand is pop singer Oliver Mtukudzi. His first hit, “Zimbabwe,” became the liberation movement’s anthem after its release in 1980, the year Mugabe took power, but Mtukudzi is still breaking new ground. Security officials questioned him closely after his 41st album, “Bvuma Tolerance” (“Accept Tolerance”) came out in 2000. One cut drew particular attention, a song provocatively called “Wasakara” (“You’re Finished”). Mtukudzi is releasing a new album this week, titled “Bvunze Moto” (“Burning Ember”). The cover shows the singer’s portrait set against a map of Zimbabwe in flames.
Many entertainers are showing the strain–even professional comedians. Lately the country’s troubles seem to defy the power of humor. One of the most visible casualties is Harare’s Over the Edge Theater Company. The group used to be famous for its biting satire, but in the past year or so its shows have been more subdued. “Some things are not funny,” says Wiina Msamati, an Over the Edge member. “Zimbabwe used to be the breadbasket of Africa. For things to be this bad is terrible.” Nevertheless, Muparutsa says persecution only encourages him. “If today we continue to be harassed by the present government,” he says, “we must be doing something right.” The show will go on.
