Postcard from Zimbabwe

Postcard from Zimbabwe, by Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times, is not as horrifying as his reports of genocide in Sudan or obstetric fistula in Ethiopia. But to anyone who has spent time in Zimbabwe, it is deeply discouraging.

“Zimbabwe is one of my favorite countries,” writes Kristof, “blessed with friendly people, extraordinary wildlife and little crime.” It is still safe enough (at least for tourists) that Kristof chose to bring his family, “and they found the scenery, people and wild animals quite magical.”

Kristof’s article is datelined Hwange, and it’s a safe bet that the Kristofs spent some time in Hwange National Park, a game preserve bigger than the state of Connecticut. On a visit there in 1990, I had the thrill of watching zebras, giraffes, wildebeest, and warthogs not from a jeep but in a small group on foot, accompanied by a ranger with an antiquated rifle in case anything more dangerous appeared.

Zimbabwe was doing a good job protecting its wildlife. Along the Zambesi near Victoria Falls you could see a particular kind of palm tree lining the Zimbabwean side of the river but not the Zambian side. The seeds of that palm would only germinate after passing through the bowels of an elephant, and the trees were the living symbol that Zimbabwe had prevented poachers from destroying its elephant herds.

Robert Mugabe’s government hasn’t done as good a job looking after its people.

Zimbabwe has come very far downhill over the last few decades (although it has risen a bit since its trough two years ago). An impressive health and education system is in tatters, and life expectancy has tumbled from about 60 years in 1990 to somewhere between 36 and 44, depending on which statistics you believe.

Western countries have made the mistake of focusing their denunciations on the seizures of white farms by Mr. Mugabe’s cronies. That’s tribalism by whites; by far the greatest suffering has been endured by Zimbabwe’s blacks.

“Over and over,” Kristof writes, “I cringed as I heard Africans wax nostalgic about a nasty, oppressive regime run by a tiny white elite.”

Even in 1990, some black Zimbabweans told me things were better in the days of Ian Smith and Rhodesia, and I cringed too. It wasn’t true then, I think, but unhappily it may be true now.