How Not to Go to Jail for Drawing Stuff
Election
Originally published by The Elephant — Read the original article →
My concerns with international flights are usually mundane things like making sure my Swiss Army knife is not in my carry-on luggage. Do I have anything in my pocket that I might have to part with at security? My passport is not in my suitcase, right? Will my MasterCard work? Do I have my documents and answers ready for Immigration? Where the hell is my charger, and do I have enough of my own cigarettes for the stay? Ordinary people stuff. When I was leaving for Kenya in July of 2025, I had new concerns: my father, gravely unwell at the time- how was he faring? And, of course, how would I make sure they didn’t find 28 grams of dagga in my luggage?
The problem starts in 2010. While catching up on Zimbabwean news from the computer lab at the University of the Witwatersrand, I came across a story that gilds the aphorism “truth is stranger than fiction” and learnt the name Owen Maseko.
Perhaps the story doesn’t even start in 2010; it could begin in the early 1980s. While the world looked at Zimbabwe, newly minted from the scrap metal of Rhodesia to join the ranks of liberated countries, her government, led by then Prime Minister Robert Mugabe, was casually killing people like Owen Maseko and me – people of Ndebele descent.
