Where Are the Voters?

That particular polling place was one of the busier ones: There were three voters inside and three outside when I got there about 1 p.m., but in the early morning, some hundreds had been lined up, according to ZANU-PF folks there. Chitungwiza is one of the relative ZANU-PF strongholds and a place where Mugabe chose to make his last big election-eve speech, in which he railed against all the African leaders lining up to take potshots at him for the abominable snow job June 27 was shaping up to be. They managed to scare up a crowd numbering thousands for that speech; not surprising, then, that they could get a few of them to vote. In fact, one of them apparently voted four times. I met him in a coffee shop, and he had four purple fingers, trying no doubt to make up for the low turnout single-handedly, as it were.

Other places were even more lightly attended. At the Queen Elizabeth School in Harare, the polling place president said, with no apparent regret, "People just aren't coming, we've had only 20 or 30 so far." And this was at 11 a.m. in a country where traditionally most people vote early. Voter Charles Mutema, an employee at the ministry of justice, didn't look happy about doing his civic duty as he dipped his finger in the telltale purple ink. "We need a president," he said, "so we have no choice."

John Makumbe, a professor of political science at the University of Zimbabwe, said he has no doubt that Mugabe's marauders will be out by Saturday, looking for people who don't have purple fingers, but even so he had no intention of supporting a sham election by voting in it. "I went along to one of the polling places just for a chuckle," he said. "I saw an old man I knew and said, 'Why are you voting?' He said he didn't want to get attacked, but he fully intended to spoil his ballot."

It wasn't an entirely grim day. My translator, who prefers to go by the pseudonym of Myamuziwra, became adept at the drive-by interview, through the open passenger-side window, which we thought might minimize our chances of running afoul of the authorities for committing criminal journalism. "Hey, did you vote?" he called to a man lounging on a corner. "No, did you?" Myamuziwra showed him his clean fingers. "Well," said the man, "I can see who you voted for."

© 2008