Ethical and Practical Reflections of Resident Anthropologists in Conflict Zones: Experiences from the Tokwe Mukosi Dam Project and Displacement at Chingwizi,Zimbabwe

Introduction and Background

This article is a reflection on the methodological, ethical, and practical experiences of the resident researchers among the Tokwe Mukosi people at Chingwizi. It emanates from a 1-year ethnographic study undertaken at Chingwizi to fulfill the doctoral requirements at the University of KwaZulu Natal for the lead researcher. We therefore interrogate practical challenges such as navigating bureaucratic challenges in gaining authority to do research, accessibility and the sensitivity of researching on marginalized citizens who also stay in a conflict zone. We also dwell on the dialectics of an insider (local resident researcher) and outsider (eternal researcher), affecting resident anthropologist in this area. In addition to that, we interrogate the politics of signing forms among the Tokwe Mukosi flood victim, which is largely influenced by their victim status and the protracted conflict between the state and the Tokwe Mukosi inhabitants. To understand the politics of studying the marginalized citizens, we, consequently, start by giving the historical background of the Tokwe Mukosi Dam project and the subsequent displacement. The idea is to clearly illuminate the state–public relations, which are the footprints of the political relations that affected the researchers in this study.

Setting the Context, the Tokwe Mukosi Dam Project, History and the Culture of Institutionalized Violence

The Tokwe Mukosi Dam project is a confluence of two major rivers in Masvingo province in the South Eastern part of Zimbabwe. These are Tokwe (also known as Tugwi River among the Karanga people in the southern part of Zimbabwe) and the Mukosi River. In the later stages, the primary objectives for the construction of the dam were modified, but from the beginning, it was mainly aimed at supplying irrigated water for the main sugar cane farmers in the southern parts of Zimbabwe. The dam is believed to be the second largest human-made dam in Zimbabwe after the famous Kariba Dam, which borders Zimbabwe and Zambia. Within Zimbabwe, it, nevertheless, becomes the largest inland dam, taking over from Lake Mutirikwi.

The hype, conflict, and contradictions entrenched in the construction of this dam project have all led many to believe that the project is an invention of the post-colonial modernization and development agenda in Zimbabwe. Evidence to the contrary shows that the idea was long back mooted by the Rhodesian government (colonial government) in 1955. This was in line with the dictates of the Green Revolution agenda. Despite the major interests, the idea suffered a stillbirth as the country unexpectedly drifted into a protracted liberation struggle, which persisted up to the year 1980. The war for independence had a knock-on effect of diverting the funds that could have been used for construction purposes toward funding the war. In the renewed zest for development and modernity, the postcolonial state then reconsidered the idea to construct the Tokwe Mukosi Dam in 1997. It, nevertheless, took the state 19 years to complete the dam construction. It was eventually completed in 2016 and commissioned a year later.

Moving on to the atrocious but ubiquitous relocations of villagers in and around the dam, the state identified three areas for resettling residents who suffered the unfortunate consequences of this developmental project. These areas were Chisase, Masangula, and Chingwizi in Mwenezi district. It should be underscored that before relocations, the state promised each household 4 ha of land in addition to compensation, which was calculated based on the value of the household property. Upon relocation, those relocated to Chisase and Masangula areas were surprised to be allocated less land against the initial promises made by the state. These plots were for construction of houses and dry land farming as opposed to irrigation agriculture as guaranteed before relocation.

This background, coupled with the failure to deliver on the promises made, caused many of the villagers in Chivi to instinctively resist relocations to Chingwizi. For the majority of them, this resistance was out of fear of the unknown in the alien territory. Thus, by the end of 2013, very little was done in terms of meeting the projected figures for relocation of the affected villagers. The failure by the state to fulfill the initial promises in the long run greatly influenced the state–people relations as shall be illuminated in the subsequent sections.

Between December 2013 and November 2014, Chivi and the catchment areas of Tokwe Mukosi Dam received above-normal rainfall, which culminated in severe flooding. The flooding put human life, the villagers’ property and livestock at great risk. An estimated 6,393 families, translating into over 20,000 villagers were inundated by floods (Zikhali, 2018). Under such circumstances at law, the state was justified to declare the flooding a state of emergency, which therefore warranted intervention of the police and the military. The state then responded by using force with the help of security forces to evict the reluctant villagers to the Chingwizi holding camp in the Nuanetsi ranch, Mwenezi.

What made the situation dire was the state’s lack of preparedness to deal with this emergency situation. The villagers were evicted from their homesteads without support structures, compensation, food, shelter, and other related social amenities. While their Chingwizi destination was supposed to be a transit camp, it took the state more than 3 years to move the villagers from the camp to yet another contested 1 ha plot. The place for the initial relocation is known as kumatende (tents), reflecting the temporality of this resettlement phase. Thus, there was no proper accommodation for the flood victims who were forced to stay in the tents, which were mainly provided by donor organizations. Of note is the fact that there were serious politics of inclusion and exclusion to access the much-needed tents. What is clear in this study is that the relocation of the flood victims from the Tokwe Mukosi basin was hindered by a plethora of factors. These include, but are not limited to, lack of political will, lack of resources, preparedness and out-and-out resistance from the affected villagers (United Nations Development Programme [UNDP], 2015). The aforementioned flooding and displacement affected 12 villages in total, and these villages include Johwa, Chekai, Ndove, Vhomo, Tagwirei Chikosi, and Nongera (Tarisai, 2014).

The failure by the state to honor its promises became a contentious and highly political issue among the displaced persons who consistently evaluated themselves as the ‘forgotten people’ who were also engulfed by a sense of isolation. In his analysis of the impact of modernism and globalization on the Zambian residents, Ferguson (2002) captures the kind of feeling and experiences of the Tokwe Mukosi people during this time succinctly. These displaced populace experienced a feeling of abjection, meaning the process of being pushed aside, expelled, or discarded from the fruits of modernity, of which under normal circumstances, these villagers were supposed to be the primary beneficiaries of modernity. However, this process does not only mean being thrown out but also debasement and mortification for the ordinary villagers who were moved to the Chingwizi holding camp (Ferguson, 2002).

In addition to the failed promises and policy inconsistences, the state went on to assure the affected villagers full monetary compensation for displacement upon arrival at Chingwizi, but to this day, nothing has materialized, and a significant number is yet to get compensation. On the second wave of relocations, the residents were resisting to move to the designated 1-ha plots popularly known as Kumahekita. The villagers now being rational and calculative actors gave the state preconditions for the movement from the holding camps. First, they demanded full compensation for relocation and, second, they demanded permanent resettlement to the land that was promised by the state prior to their evictions from Chivi.

The precarious situation at Chingwizi was further compounded by the state’s desire to move the clinic from the Chingwizi transit camp to a new settlement in the Nuanetsi ranch. The new site for the clinic would be close to the 1 ha plots earmarked for the second relocation of the villagers. As the principal guarantor in this relocation program, the state in its plans hoped that the villagers would be lured into accepting relocations to the new settlements, despite the temporality of this phase of relocations. Given this background, the relations at Chingwizi degenerated to their lowest ebb, and the village became a battlefield to various parties who had different and conflicting motives to the resettlement program, leading to a serious impasse between the state and relocated residents. The different and conflicting lifeworlds, particularly between the state and the Tokwe Mukosi villagers had negative implications on the sustainability of the relocation exercise at Chingwizi. It became a battlefield where the aforementioned actors competed to position themselves well in this program. Just like many developmental projects, the Tokwe Mukosi Dam project was replete with politics, conflict, and contradiction (Long, 2001).

As noted earlier on, the blindness of the state pushed it to move the Tokwe Mukosi people into the highly concentrated Chingwizi camp, and this inevitably presented the villagers with opportunities to organize and mobilize support against the police and the state effortlessly. Consequently, the Tokwe Mukosi villagers in Chingwizi stayed in congested tents, and this made it difficult for the state and law enforcement agents to control and suppress the revolting residents. More importantly, the tents, unlike proper and modern human settlements, are not traceable, and many of our respondents highlighted this virtue, which also became the hallmark of the prolonged demonstrations against the state. What this therefore means is that, unlike in the modern settlements, the identity of the revolting residents was very difficult to ascertain.

In one of the group discussions, the respondents revealed how strategic meetings were secretly convened in the tents to resist second relocations through the use of force by the state. Insurgence became the key strategy deployed by the residents in the process. They would strategically protest and attack the police, and when they were overwhelmed, they would then retreat to the tents for refuge. Based on this unique strategy in the history of displacement in Zimbabwe, it was easier for the Tokwe Mukosi villagers to instigate one of the greatest forms of resistance against the state. A significant number of police officers were heinously injured, and two vehicles belonging to the police were burned down by the protestors at Chingwizi. The way the Tokwe Mukosi villagers reacted to forced displacement was quite exceptional, given the heavy handedness in which the state dealt with resistance in the previous resettlement programs. Cases in point include Operation Murambatsvina, Operation Chikorokoza Chapera, and displacement at Chiadzwa, Chisumbanje, and the more recent Operation Restore Legacy. This unfortunate incident in a significant way was a prognosis to our position that unlike other victims of forced displacement in Zimbabwe, the Tokwe Mukosi people are far from being conceptualized as passive victims of the situation created by the state. While the conclusion made by Dye (2016), and Benhura and Naidu (2018) that the victims of displacements emanating from developmental projects are passive victims of the state is acceptable from a moral and humanistic perspective, the revolts at Chingwizi help to corroborate the position that the displaced citizens are not weak but have the potential to engage in everyday forms of peasant resistance, with the goal of alleviating the situation (Scott, 1985).

The denigration of the Tokwe Mukosi people and the subsequent collective reaction thereof has been summed up by Deleuze and Guattari (1987) who say:

When an element is deterritorialised, when it eventually escapes from an apparatus of capture and begins to construct its line of flight, it does not have to do so alone, it has the potential to connect up with other deterritorialised elements and to begin to form not just a single line, but flows, aggregates, collectives and multiplicities, whose elements remain distinct but move together in a shared project to evade capture.

Based on the culture of violence, the state went on to unleash armed riot police against the protesting Tokwe Mukosi residents. The environment was like a war situation as helicopters and armed police ravaged the holding camp. In response to the retaliation by the police, ordinary villagers, particularly women and children, abandoned their tents and hibernated in the nearby mountains. A significant number returned to matongo (Chivi), seeking refuge, or stayed with the relatives in the surrounding areas. It is estimated that over 300 villagers were arrested and detained at the Triangle police camp. These arrests were arbitrary and indiscriminate to the extent that even the elderly, people with disabilities, and the sick were arrested and detained. Many of them were, however, released without trial based on the lack of incriminating evidence, and four villagers were convicted and sentenced to prison for public violence (The Zim Situation, 2014).

The state–people relations at Tokwe Mukosi are also a marker of how the state violated the United Nations (UN) Guiding Principles on Internally Displaced Persons of 1998, which the Zimbabwean government is ironically a signatory to. The use of force to evict the villagers negates voluntarism, which is a key facet of the UN Guiding principles. There was also a clear lack of will from the victims to resettle in the new territories and subsequently no mutual agreement to that effect. What is also deplorable for many villagers when it comes to this displacement is the temporality of the relocations, which also became sequential. They started with the transitory movement from Chivi to the transit camp, next was the proposed resettlement but resisted movement from the transit camp to the 1 ha plots, and ultimately to the proposed new settlements, which up to the time we finished our fieldwork continued to appear like a remote possibility, given the lack of political will and resources to relocate the affected villagers. Contrary to the situation at hand, the UN Guiding Principles on Internally Displaced Persons (1998) stipulate that before relocations, there ought to be minimum land tenure, civil status, and all these components should point toward the sustainability of the proposed solution to the problem. Commenting on these volatile relations between the displaced citizens and the state, Human Rights Watch (2015) says:

In the case of arbitrary resettlement of flood victims at Chingwizi, the state failed to satisfy all the conditions, nor has it assured health, shelter, food and water to the displaced, in the breach of its own constitutional obligations.

Navigating the Ethical and Practical Terrain at Chingwizi

In the forgoing section, we reflected on the history of violence at Chingwizi, which gave birth to the political and sensitive relations at Chingwizi. In this section, we go on to reflect on the ethical and practical dilemmas that we encountered. It should be emphasized from the outset that any study that involves people raises ethical questions (Muzvidziwa, 2004). As argued elsewhere in this treatise, the relations of mistrust between the states and residents in the pre-displacement and post-displacement phases inevitably made this study a highly political and subjective study. The state of affairs raised serious challenges in getting the letter of authority from the central government, which was a prerequisite for carrying out this research. The letter in question would also ensure that the research is couched in the ethical imperatives in sociological research. This would also help to ensure that the study meets the University of KwaZulu-Natal (UKZN) ethical guidelines for postgraduate studies. To the central government, the local, and provincial authorities, the Chingwizi area and the other transit camps that house the Tokwe Mukosi people are insulated from research and other humanitarian activities deemed to be politically orientated.

In order to get the aforementioned permission, we had to go through a cumbersome process, starting from the local and provincial authorities up to the central government. Given the volatility of the political environment in this context, the local authority and provincial authority would only facilitate the process, but we needed final authority from the central government. It became evident from the outset that ethical guidelines would be very difficult to observe in their crude form. As researchers, we needed to be flexible, patient, and pragmatic to achieve our objectives. This is also linked to reflexive ethnography, which was the main method used to gather data in this study. Reflexive ethnography among other things stresses the need to be flexible and programmatic as opposed to the rigid and normative way of doing research. In the final analysis, getting the authority to do a research became a negotiated position. We needed to make practical negotiated agreements with the central government and its subsidiaries. In such a dilemma, Slevitch (2011) encourages ethnographic researchers to ensure that such agreements be grounded in real discussions involving individual and public discussions of the research and its purpose.

To achieve that objective, we had to navigate the challenge of providing evidence and explanations that there were no political motives underlying this research. The authorities were therefore assured that this study was merely for academic purposes. Most importantly, we had to deploy social capital, wherein the politics of identity and belonging became a valuable resource. We had to produce evidence that we are resident researchers from Chivi in Masvingo, which is the area that was affected by flooding and the subsequent displacements. This actually made us Vematongo, a popular title among the Tokwe Mukosi people. The Vematongo status is given to someone with the same identity, original geographical location, and socioeconomic predicament. This clearly relates to someone who comes from the Chivi and Mushawasha areas of displacement. Armed with this status, we were then granted the authority to do research, albeit after 5 months of waiting and lobbying.

Informed consent was also one of the key ethical considerations that we had to seriously consider in this study. The aim here was to protect and fully inform our participants about the purpose, risks, and benefits for participating in this research. While we acknowledge that the size, cultural background, and location of the study area made it difficult for the respondents to understand many of the technical facets of ethics, we made an attempt to make sure that the local people get adequate knowledge about the nature and purposes of this study. This would mean that they participated voluntarily from an informed position. Permission was also sought by the researchers to record the interviews. The politics and contestations embedded in these internal displacements, however, made some respondents uncomfortable with the use of audio recording devices and the signing of informed consent forms.

Inasmuch as we managed to have many of our respondents signing the informed consent forms, some respondents, particularly the elderly, were averse when it came to the signing of informed consent forms as well as the use of audio recording devises. As stated earlier, this was a by-product of the volatile state–people relations and widespread culture of violence in Zimbabwe. Consequently, this has led to uneasiness and relations of mistrust between the Chingwizi people and public institutions. To put this into perspective, when we requested to record VaJongwe (50) (not real name), he said:

My son; if it is just a discussion, let’s just talk. Did you not say you are from matongo? If so, then what’s with this idea of signing a form and recording? What do you want to do with that information? If that’s the case, we’re not going to talk.

Some respondents agreed to be recorded, but they were in a meditative mood, and the information provided was inconsistent. Faced with this social challenge, we had to be flexible and embrace the ideals of reflexivity in such contexts. Thus, to deal with this practical challenge, the researchers resorted to taking field notes with the help of the two research assistants. This explains why we had fewer recorded interviews in this study, compared to the field notes.

In addition to the abovementioned solution, recorded respondents were also promised that the recorded data will be stored in a safe and secure laptop, and that the data will be destroyed after 5 years. To guarantee confidentiality and anonymity, we gave them the assurance that we will use pseudonyms as opposed to real names. This helped in a significant way to instill confidence in them, given the volatile relations between the state and the displaced villagers. To this end, all the names we used in the presentation and analysis chapters are not the real names of the respondents interviewed in this study. The problem of recording and signing in forms is not peculiar to this study. Muzvidziwa (2004) experienced the same problem in his study in Masvingo urban in Zimbabwe. He noted that form filling and signing had negative implications on the relations between the researcher and the researched, considering the fact that the respondents are not used to such bureaucratic procedures. In his submission, the situation was exacerbated by the repressive colonial history, wherein the signing of forms and divulging information were considered to be risky. Adding to the serious challenge of signing forms, as resident researchers, we observed that some important aspects that were directly linked to the discussion would be discussed unexpectedly, and, in many cases, this would happen in other social contexts outside the research. While it is ethically important to request the spontaneous respondents to sign the informed consent forms, it practically made little sense to such people. This would also have a knock-on effect on the flow of information. Moreover, it would alienate the researchers from the discussions.

Faced with the aforesaid ethical and practical challenges, we had to be flexible in finding an informal way of informing the respondents that such information is linked to our study. We had to explain ourselves and make them understand that we wished to use this information only if they consented. This situation points to the observation that, in practical terms, getting informed consent should not always follow the conventional and rigid processes. Rather, it is always a dynamic and endless process. Our experience at Tokwe Mukosi is echoed by the American Anthropological Association Code of Ethics (2009). It states that getting informed consent does not always require a signed form. Instead, it is the quality of the consent that is of paramount importance.

Trust was further enhanced by the change of the political landscape in Zimbabwe, following the removal of the then Zimbabwe African Union Patriotic Front (ZANU PF) leader Mugabe. To put this into perspective, the Mugabe regime was labeled as undemocratic, repressive, and intolerant to human rights and civil liberties like freedom of association and expression. On the contrary, the new government popularly known as ‘The New Dispensation’, at least during the time of research, was said to have opened up the political space and human freedoms. Much of the larger part of the fieldwork was conducted toward a general election; this relative democratization of the state and state institutions encouraged some respondents to discuss issues affecting them freely. The wematongo label was also critical in the establishment of rapport with the respondents. Thus, we were therefore able to move freely in the community, interviewing our respondents and participating in many community gatherings and other related social events.

All the interviews conducted with the villagers were conducted in the vernacular Shona language. We took into consideration the fact that our target population is a rural community, which values the local language. Speaking in English language would have created an artificial barrier between the researchers and the researched. Moreover, culturally, in this community, every Black person is expected to address people in Shona. Thus, all our interviews were conducted in Shona and then translated into English.

Traditionally, emphasis has been on the need for the researchers to avoid harm and to protect the respondents. Thus, the need to protect and ensure the integrity of the researchers has been glossed over. In recent times, calls have been made for the researchers to equally avoid putting themselves at risk in the research process (Burgess, 2004). What it means therefore is that researchers ought to avoid studies that are likely to put them in danger. Based on social capital and common identity, adapting to the ‘hostile’ conditions at Chingwizi was relatively easy. However, as part of the researchers’ integrity, we have to acknowledge the element of fear and anxiety that we experienced particularly in the second phase of our study. Our respondents indicated that the Chingwizi area is a habitat to some of the most dangerous wild animals and reptiles, given the fact that it was formally a wild animal ranch.

Throughout the fieldwork, we were always reminded of the threats from the marauding buffalos at Chingwizi. Another threat came from the vicious snakes, scorpions, and spiders, including the black widow. Given the transitory nature of the resettlements, these reptiles would easily enter the temporary structures at night, putting human life at risk. There are so many cases of bites by these reptiles that were recorded at Chingwizi clinic. One extreme case is that of a young man who was bitten by a black mamba and succumbed to death. During the first phase of our study, we managed to circumvent such challenges and fears because we would sleep in our small car at Tokwe Mukosi primary school. In the second and final phase of the study, we coincidentally met an uncle at Bongo Business Center who then offered us accommodation at the nearby Chekai village. The challenge now was that, culturally, it was unacceptable for us to sleep in the car. Thus, he went on to offer us a room where we would sleep on the floor. In many cases, he would warn us about the risks from the aforesaid reptiles. Another serious common threat was that of the small black ant that is believed to be very poisonous at Chingwizi.

While we were sitting around the fire during the first night, my uncle who is a widower, narrated the harrowing experiences of this dangerous and yet common ant. He indicated that the clinic is yet to find an antidote for its venom, but the locals have fallen back on indigenous knowledge. The belief is that the only solution is to rub the fluids from the female genitalia into the wounds from these ants. He jokingly but yet in a scaring manner said:

My son since you left your wife behind, you are going to die here because of these small ants as for us, we are now used to it.

After observing our tense reaction, he, however, gave us the assurance that we will be safe. He indicated that he was going to put fire in our hut all the time to scare away the ants. The situation was aided by the fact that it was the rainy season in Zimbabwe, and the temperatures were low at Chingwizi, to the extent that we were comfortable with the fire in the hut at night.

Conclusion

The foregoing article focused on the ethical and practical impediments afflicting resident researchers in contested, political, and conflict zones. It specifically focused on the politics surrounding a study on the Tokwe Mukosi community at Chingwizi. To give the reader a nuanced appreciation of the research context, we started by giving an overview of the Tokwe Mukosi Dam project, displacement, and the resultant conflict between the state and the people. These political relations greatly influenced the research processes and outcomes. The major ethical and practical challenges highlighted in the foregoing article navigate the political and bureaucratic nuances, politics of signing forms, balancing the insider–outsider dichotomies, and accessibility of the area. The wematongo flagship, reflexivity, and social capital proved to be indispensable in navigating the said challenges in the study.