Your Wounds Will Be Named Silence


  • Photographer
    Robin Hammond
  • Prize
    Honorable Mention
  • Company/Studios
    Robin Hammond
  • Date of Photograph
    Dec 2011 - May 2012

In April this year Zimbabwe marked 32 years of Independence. Few were rejoicing though. The promise of the liberty Zimbabweans fought a war and died for has been betrayed by the country’s rulers. Their thirst for power has been quenched by sucking the nation dry. Their empire built on the bodies of countrymen. Zimbabweans have been bludgeoned into a voiceless population. Those dying at the hands of those that oppose freedom now will pass forgotten by history. Their suffering, in generations to come, their collective wounds, will be named silence.

Story

YOUR WOUNDS WILL BE NAMED SILENCE

On the 18th of April this year Zimbabwe marked 32 years of Independence. Few were rejoicing though. The freedom that was promised three decades earlier has become oppression, the democracy blacks fought a war for turned into dictatorship, and independence from 100 years of colonial rule turned into enslavement to a brutal regime.
The promise of liberty Zimbabweans died for has been betrayed by President Robert Mugabe and his sycophantic courtiers. Their thirst for power has been quenched by sucking the nation dry. Their empire has been built on the bodies of countrymen.
I went to Zimbabwe to make a photo documentary about this betrayal of hope and the decline of a country.
I travelled extensively over the months I was there, constantly staying one step ahead of informants, police, and intelligence officers. Eventually they caught up with me. I spent 26 days in prison and was deported and declared a ‘Prohibited Immigrant.’
The four months I spent photographing in the country reaffirmed my impression that Zimbabweans are some of the most wonderful people in the world. The month in prison made me understand why they live in fear.
The smiles on the faces of the people I met would disappear when talking of what they had endured. Their friendly welcome would turn into a hushed whisper. Their eyes would turn dark and shift from side to side to see who was listening. Always alert for informers, never trusting.
I wanted to record the atrocities of the past – events that have in large part not left any physical evidence. I decided to document the history of atrocities through the voices of their survivors. A series of portraits of Zimbabweans emerging from the darkness illustrates this hidden peoples attempt to break the silence that continues to imprison them.
My time in prison was over in a matter of weeks. Zimbabweans have been incarcerated in a prison of poverty and oppression for over 30 years. Their countrymen died for their liberty but the dying didn’t stop with independence. Todays victims won’t be remembered in songs or on monuments though. Zimbabweans have been bludgeoned into a voiceless population and those dying at the hands of those that oppose freedom now will likely pass quietly forgotten by history. Their suffering, in generations to come, their collective wounds, will be named silence.

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