When scribe is victim of political violence
The vehicle after the attack. Picture by Mackson Wasamunu. JACK ZIMBA Lusaka “GIVE me the camera or you die!” shouted one man with a tattoo on his forearm. I would not have taken his threat seriously, but for his menacing look. His eyes were full of rage like a caged beast. Besides, our vehicle was already surrounded by four or five men wielding machetes and baying for our blood. Their language was vile. Another group of about 100 men, some wearing face masks, stood across the road chanting and brandishing their machetes, taunting the police. I saw one man with a pick-axe. I fumbled with the key in the ignition, but it was too late. I heard an explosion, and another and then another. Each explosion was followed by a shower of glass inside the vehicle. My first instinct was to duck and shield my face, screaming. My colleague, Steven Mvula did the same. It was the most terrifying moment in my career. The explosions sounded like gunshots, and the fi