Shock and suspicion greet deal in Zimbabwe

President Mugabe of Zimbabwe and his bitter foe, the opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai, on July 21 signed a deal outlining a framework for talks on the country's political crisis. The two men shook hands for the first time in a decade at a brief, stiff ceremony in the capital, Harare. They put their signatures to the agreement at the Rainbow Towers Hotel, which was surrounded by a menacing military presence. Tsvangirai described the deal–also signed by Arthur Mutambara, head of a smaller opposition group that broke away from the MDC last year–as a "first tentative step." The memorandum of understanding, brokered by President Thabo Mbeki of South Africa, commits all parties to "establishing the framework of an inclusive government." It also commits Mugabe to ending political violence, ensuring the law is applied equally and guaranteeing the safe return of tens of thousands of people who fled their homes during the last three months of violence. Mugabe is also obliged to lift the ban, imposed on June 5, preventing aid agencies from helping thousands of internal refugees and a population about to be consumed by famine. Hundreds of refugees have been denied medical attention for injuries inflicted by government soldiers and police. But the opposition has indicated it will not serve under him as president and pointedly referred to him as president of the "ruling" Zanu-PF, indicating that it still does not recognize his victory in last month's run-off poll. For his part, Mugabe will not serve in a government he does not lead. But at the same time, his only way out is to ensure Zanu-PF is present in some form of interim government of national unity. Anything less would be unacceptable to his henchmen in the security services, who now effectively run the country and opposed any suggestion that he might quit when he lost the first round of the elections in March. Around the precincts of the Rainbow Towers were stationed Zimbabwean soldiers in full combat kit with automatic rifles, while a large squad of armed riot police stood by. Just outside the conference room, scores of secret police sifted through arrivals, ejecting Western diplomats and journalists without state accreditation. On the streets of Harare, Zimbabwe, there was deep unease about Tsvangirai's decision to enter power-sharing talks with Mugabe and his party. A photograph taking up half the front page of the propaganda Herald newspaper, with Mugabe holding the hands of Tsvangirai and Mutambara produced a sense of shock among many. "Tsvangirai should never have shaken his hand," said Joram Kanyepi, a bricklayer. "This man has had him beaten, put in jail, prohibited him from holding rallies and killed his supporters. But Tsvangirai is a man of peace," he said. "He really wants to make things better for people." "Shaking hands with Mugabe?" asked Denson Hukwe. "That should never have been. He should have said Mugabe must release all his people from jail before he would sign." Deep mistrust of Mugabe was widely shared. "Mugabe is a crook, he just wants to fool Tsvangirai," said someone who gave his name as Chirikure. "He was not shaking hands with his heart. He wants to get Tsvangirai into a government where he can control him and there is no opposition, like he did to Zapu." There were numerous references to the Zapu party of the late Joshua Nkomo, the leader of the Ndebele people of western Zimbabwe, who was forced into talks with Zanu (PF) in the late 1980s after a pogrom by the Zimbabwean security forces that left up to 20,000 civilians dead. Zapu was absorbed into Zanu (PF) and its leaders co-opted into ineffectual positions. "Tsvangirai must never allow there to be a government of national unity [an option strongly pressed for by President Mbeki of South Africa, the chairman of the talks]," said Danny Pikayi, a business executive. "The moment they do that, what happened to Zapu will happen to the MDC. The only thing these talks can lead to is some kind of transitional arrangement leading to new democratic elections." The sense of caution was echoed in interviews with ordinary Zimbabweans, still trying to digest the meaning of the memorandum of understanding signed by both parties, from the only source available -- the deeply partial state media. Several spoken to believed that the talks were over and that a new government had already been formed.