A year ago, during the 2023 Democracy Forum in Athens, Namatai Kwekweza was awarded the Kofi Annan NextGen Democracy prize for her pro-democracy and feminist advocacy in Africa. Last week, as the forum again met in Greece, Ms. Kwekweza was dealing with repercussions of that activism: her recent arrest in Zimbabwe and pending trial.
On July 31, Ms. Kwekweza, who is the founder and director of Zimbabwe’s youth leadership development and advocacy organization WELEAD Trust, boarded a domestic flight from Harare, the capital, to the city of Victoria Falls to attend a conference on philanthropy.
While on the tarmac with the engines running, Ms. Kwekweza, 25, along with Robson Chere and Samuel Gwenzi — activists who were also traveling to the conference — was escorted off the plane. The three were then forced to enter a domestic arrivals terminal, which was under renovation, through the luggage carousel hole, with Ms. Kwekweza being kicked through it after her initial refusal. They were beaten and tortured for several hours, she said, before finally being taken to a police station and charged with disorderly conduct on allegations that they had protested outside a court in June over the arrests of six dozen supporters of the opposition leader Jameson Timba.
In a statement issued by the United Nations, independent human rights experts expressed concern over the arrests and detention of Ms. Kwekweza, Mr. Chere and Mr. Gwenzi: “The enforced disappearance, incommunicado detention and torture, followed by the arbitrary detention of these human rights defenders is inexcusable, and not only violates international human rights law but also makes a mockery of the safeguards contained in Zimbabwe’s own Constitution.”
Ms. Kwekweza, who was held for 35 days before being released on bail, was in South Africa when those protests were taking place in Harare. In a court hearing on Sept. 30, her trial was postponed until Oct. 22. In a video interview before the hearing, she spoke about her arrest and what she believed was the real reason behind her incarceration. The following conversation has been edited and condensed.
What happened when you were taken off the plane?
Immediately I started asking a lot of questions, like, “Why are we being asked to leave? Who are you? You didn’t identify yourselves — what is the purpose of all of this?” As soon as I got outside, there was a man who tried to grab my phone. So instantly I knew something was really off. I started texting my mom and texting some lawyers that “I think we’re being arrested at the airport.”
Once you were forced to go through the baggage carousel hole, what happened?
I was wearing my Apple watch, and I could see the lawyer was calling so I knew that someone knew that we had been taken. We were separated and I was taken into a poorly lit room. There were about seven men, and they kept asking me profiling questions like where I lived, what was my name, where was I traveling to. They gave me my phone, saying, “You have to open it,” and I told them: “First of all, you don’t have a warrant of seizure. And then second you can’t force me to open my phone, because I have a right to my own privacy.”
When I said that, one of the men said I talked too much, and he started shoving his foot straight into my mouth. He then faced his colleagues saying, “Oh, when we’re done with her, she will definitely open that phone.”
Eventually I was taken out of the room and Mr. Chere was brought in. About 10 minutes later I could hear him screaming and a violent howl, and there were thuds.
You must have been frightened.
I went to the bathroom and the pregnant woman [who had escorted me off the plane] said, “I’ve just been sent here to make sure when you leave this place, you don’t end up saying ‘These men touched me inappropriately or they raped me.’ I’m just here to make sure that none of that happens.” And I was like, “But why would you be telling me that? Like, is it a possibility that this could be a thing?”
They brought me back into the interrogation room, and I saw Mr. Chere on the floor. He told me later they beat him with a metal bar, and they poured water on him. And he said, “It felt like I was drowning.” I actually was very scared, because I genuinely believed that they had killed him. They poured water on me as well.
Did you have any idea what this was all about?
They kept asking me “Are you guys planning demonstrations ahead of the S.A.D.C. [Southern African Development Community] summit?” And they kept accusing us of wanting to humiliate [our] president [Emmerson Mnangagwa], of humiliating the country.
The police eventually came, took us to the station and finally told us that we had been arrested for disorderly conduct. I had already suspected it was about the S.A.D.C. summit, because [Mr. Mnangagwa] was next in line to become S.A.D.C. chairperson [in Harare in August].
I think that they felt that people are disgruntled in Zimbabwe with a lot of the things that have been happening. So it’s not like what happened to me was very isolated. It was just part of a very large nationwide crackdown that was happening to a lot more other people across the country.
You were then transferred to Chikurubi Maximum Security Prison and initially denied bail. Were you worried that the charges would stick?
I was in South Africa when the protests happened, so it’s impossible that I could have committed a crime because I was out of the country. But they had taken my passport. I think they did not expect a situation where I would have such a strong alibi. It became a problem for them.
My lawyers [later] applied for bail at the High Court and it was granted. It is still at a very intimate, intricate legal phase, where we’re just trying to be very strategic and calculative, so that we get what we need [passenger manifests to prove her whereabouts during the protests].
What was the situation in prison?
When I got there, there were already 29 other women who were political prisoners, and those women were so good to me. They took care of me. And when I began to hear these stories, they are the main active political opposition, and they were beaten up so badly. Some of them had broken hands, broken limbs, busted eardrums. I was with them for 35 days.
I think that the prison experience in itself was very humbling because it helped me to see life in a very different way. When we were told our bail was denied, that was the heaviest night of my life in prison. I just covered myself with my blankets, and I just cried. But then after that, I just told myself: “You know what? The day will come. I am not going to die here.” And it taught me to have this outlook on life that we must be positive, and we must have hope that the day will always come. It’s a lie that all political prisoners have been released.
Despite everything that happened to you, I assume that it will not stop you from being a voice for change?
Once you are labeled by the government that you are a threat to them and that whatever you’re doing does not serve them, I think it’s for a lifetime. So for me it’s always reverting back to my “why” — “Why do you want to do this? Is it really worth it?” And my “why” is basically this idea of advancing human potential through leadership development and advocacy for human rights.
When I think of every time that we work with young people and they feel empowered, or every time that we advocate for something in Parliament and it’s passed through, and I see genuinely how that’s making people’s lives better, I’m like what happened to us can never compare to the reward that we will get if we continue to persevere and if we have a deep conviction in the “why.”
The post After Her Arrest, a Young Activist Holds Onto Her ‘Why’ appeared first on New York Times.
