Death of Robert Mugabe

Dear readers,

A decade ago I was working for the British Refugee Council in Birmingham in the UK. I think about my time there quite a bit, still today. I don’t think any job I have had since has quite had the impact on my thinking and growth as a person. Before then, I had always been open to different cultures, enjoying in the presence of foreigners and strangers: learning about the stories of people from different places. It always inspired me to learn from such people, about perseverance, sacrificing everything for your ideas, beliefs and even your race, to escape persecution, to leave everything behind, and how difficult it can be. It also inspired me to tell their stories from time to time, while also erase the false assumptions that asylum seekers are “benefit spongers” or “have it easy”, as many in the right wing press claim.

It simply isn’t true. The hardships led many refugees to mental health issues and sometimes suicide. In short, the UKBA were not a soft touch. Not in my experience anyway.

I worked a lot with Section 4 clients. These were refugees who’d had their asylum cases refused: in other words, failed asylum seekers. Many of these people came from Kurdistan, especially from Iraq, who’d seen many horrors at the hands of Saddam Hussein.

Another large group of people originated from Zimbabwe, the majority of whom were political dissidents against Robert Mugabe’s regime. I remember them telling me just how ruthless he was, quashing freedom to protest, whether it be on the street or in the press, with such deadly force.

I would read the biographies of such people, who once fought the white ruling minority to bring freedom to the black man which was then Rhodesia, but then rule his country with an iron fist. But I distinctly remember one volunteer telling me some of the torture and execution practices his regime carried out, and one line stands out,”His soldiers has put political dissidents in tanks of acid. Not even their ghosts scream.”

Powerful, don’t you think?

I read that he died of late. 95 years of age. He’s led an interesting life, depending on which history book you read. I read that the prime ministers and presidents of neighbouring countries lamented his death, although I wonder how much of this lamentation was shared by those he persecuted?

This isn’t a “good riddance” post. I simply write this for my own nostalgia, working with such great people, who taught me so much, especially about how to be grateful.