Our heroes are weeping in shame

August is the month when Zimbabwe honours its fallen heroes. 
It will be 34 years this year. And 39 years after Herbert Chitepo was assassinated in Lusaka. 
And 35 years after Josiah Tongogara died in an accident.
It's 44 years after Leopold Takawira was left to die. Fifty-two years after Tichafa Samuel Parirenyatwa died in a car accident. It is also 42 years since Jason Moyo was killed by a parcel bomb in Lusaka. 
This month we remember them. With empty bellies. Sunken cheeks. Heavy hearts. Angry thoughts. Regrets. Uncertainty. Worry. And resignation to fate.
I have had to get Alexander Kanengoni's epic novel - Echoing Silences - one of the best ever book on and about our liberation. 
It's the last chapter I have read countless times. I know mukoma Alexander personally. I admire him greatly. I have read all his books but this one sums up where we are now. There is a scene in the book where all the heroes meet to discuss the decay Zimbabwe has become.

Chitepo and Moyo are addressing the meeting that is discussing 'fundamental policy changes to the struggle'.  
As the chairman, Chitepo addresses the gathering first. He is angry over several monumental historical betrayals. Moyo is not amused with how politics, wealth and the economy is owned by a few. He asks if the struggle is not lost 'in such circumstances'. 
'It’s shocking to see the reluctance that we have to tell even the smallest truth. Ours shall soon become a nation of liars. We lie to our wives. We lie to our husbands. We lie at work. We lie in Parliament. We lie in Cabinet. We lie to each other. And what is worst is that we have begun to believe our lies. What I fear most is that we will not leave anything to our children except lies and silence,' Chitepo fumes.
Then Parirenyatwa cries. Takawira reaches out to comfort him, while Chitepo says: 'It all began in silence. We deliberately kept silent about some truths, no matter how small, because some of us felt that we would compromise our power…then the silence spilled into the everyday lives of our people and translated itself into fear which they believe is the only protection that they have against imaginary enemies whom we have taught them to see standing behind their shoulders. They are no longer able to say what they want. Neither are they able to say what they think because they have become a nation of silent performers, miming their monotonous roles before an empty theatre…We owe the people an explanation.'