Itai Dzamara Photo: KUMBIRAI MAFUNDA[/caption]
Itai Dzamara was one of the most outspoken critics of Robert Mugabe before his disappearance. Three years later, his loved ones are still waiting for answers. Kim Chakanetsa reports from Zimbabwe.
Sheffra Dzamara has not seen her husband Itai Dzamara in more than three years. Her life changed irrevocably on the morning of 9 March 2015 when Mr Dzamara was abducted. Since then, she has lived a life in limbo, veering between hope and despair, unsure whether he is alive or dead.‘I have to smile’
Despite his absence, Mr Dzamara is still very much a presence in the house they shared off a quiet street in Harare’s Glen Norah Neighbourhood. In the corner of her living room is a large framed photo taken in a park on a sunny day. In it, Mr Dzamara and his wife stand side-by-side, smiling. A snapshot of a happier, easier time. Life since her husband disappeared has not been easy. “To tell you the truth I feel lonely,” Mrs Dzamara says. However, she has had to put on a brave face for her 10-year-old son and daughter of five. “When I am not happy they notice it. So for the sake of my kids I have to be smiling or happy.”
‘The dreamer we lack’
In 2014 – the year Mr Dzamara began his one-man protest movement – that was an incredibly dangerous goal. Political dissenters often paid a price. But day after day, Mr Dzamara returned to sit in Africa Unity Square, a tree-filled park in the centre of Harare, holding his sign: “Failed Mugabe must step down.” Soon others began to join him. Dirk Frey, who first read about it online, recalls the cat-and-mouse games they would play with the police during their colourful, whistling lunchtime protests. “It was like we were playing a game of chess against the authorities. We’d occupy the park and then they’d come chase us out and we’d run into the alleys surrounding the park and then come back.
‘The boys’
The memory of Mr Dzamara’s abduction is still very clear to the last person to see him – his barber. Three years later, he still struggles to talk about it. But eventually, with a little coaxing, and a promise of anonymity, he recalls what happens, That morning, he was working with another barber in their shop a few minutes from Mr Dzamara’s home. The barber-shop has since been repainted, but at the time it was a simple wooden structure without windows where neighbours and customers could casually walk in to chat or get a haircut. Mr Dzamara was in the barber chair getting his beard trimmed when they noticed a white Nissan twin cab which seemed to be circling the block. It looked out of place – but Mr Dzamara was confident he knew who it was.
Clues
At his office in Harare, Charles Kwaramba shows me the voluminous file he has built over the years in his capacity as Mr Dzamara’s lawyer. It contains appeals, applications, police reports and runs to hundreds of pages. As we page through the file, Mr Kwaramba talks me through the days and months that followed Mr Dzamara’s abduction, when, he says, “nothing much was done”. It took a High Court order to get the police to act. An appeal for information on state media was launched.