Pedagogy of the Oppressed

Ya, again, good guess, a title of a book by Paolo Freire, but last night, I thought the war of the end of the world had come. Well, I think this is probably the last post on the Zimbabwean situation, but just to narrate what happened to me last night as I arrived home. I stay about 600metres from the bus terminus, so when I alighted from the bus that took me home, I was greeted by a frenzy of seeming chaos. People were running up and about, apparently fleeing from the police. I thought to myself, what could be the reason for me running, but before I had even given an answer to myself, two baton stick wielding police details arrived and hit me with such ferocity that I prayed I would have none of my bones broken. Why was I being beaten? The other one responded 'go ask your ballot paper!' So, for nearly fifteen minutes, I was beaten, and tried running away, lost my wallet and some cash, a few documents, a pair of spectacles AND THANK GOD, none of my bones! So here I am, I had said this was going to be my last post on the Zimbabwean situation but no, it is only the first. I painfully woke up this morning and decided I would do the post after I made sure I was ok, apart from the pain in every inch of the body, I woke up stronger. We can not tolerate a government that is so cruel to its own people, so what do we do? REVOLT, THE TIME IS NOW!