Cricket in Harare between Zimbabwe and Sri Lanka invariably stirs memories of that fateful tour 21 years ago, a series that put Sri Lanka on the world map for more reasons than one. It was in Zimbabwe in 2004 that Muttiah Muralitharan, the smiling assassin, toppled Courtney Walsh’s record to become Test cricket’s highest wicket-taker. From then on, Murali and Shane Warne were locked in a neck-and-neck tussle, trading blows like prizefighters until Warne’s retirement left Murali to reign supreme.

That series, though, was more than just leather on willow. ‘Zimbabwe 2004’ was littered with drama both on and off the field. For us reporters, it was a crash course not only in cricket but in the dark underbelly of a nation.

At the helm stood Robert Mugabe — once a freedom fighter, but by then a despot whose policies were driving his nation into isolation. Unlike Nelson Mandela, who united South Africa and bowed out gracefully, Mugabe clung to power with the stickiness of a bat refusing to leave the crease. In trying to curry favour with the black majority, he alienated the white minority and eventually his innings ended in chaos.

Cricket, too, was unravelling. Once a competitive outfit, Zimbabwe imploded in a pay dispute. Senior white players were on the warpath, paving the way for as many as five Test debutants. Against such weakened opposition, Sri Lanka marched through the tour like a side batting on a featherbed — unbeaten, with seven wins from eight games, the solitary warm-up washed away by rain.

The defining moment came when Mluleki Nkala edged one to bat-pad, Mahela Jayawardene snapping up a sharp diving catch. That was Murali’s 520th scalp, Walsh’s long-standing record had tumbled.

There were other highlights. A baby-faced Farveez Maharoof, then Sri Lanka’s Under-19 captain, was blooded in Tests. In one ODI, Zimbabwe were bundled out for a paltry 35, a scorecard that looked more like a phone number, with the match done and dusted inside 27 overs.

But while cricket thrived for Sri Lanka, Zimbabwe outside the boundary ropes was crumbling. Inflation was obscene, one US dollar fetched 5,200 Zimbabwe dollars, and you literally needed a suitcase to encash a mere hundred USD. Sri Lankan doctors clung on in Bulawayo, though most were plotting their escape routes. Ordinary Zimbabweans bore the brunt; only the military seemed immune, wielding unchecked power. And yet, crime was low, unlike Durban or Johannesburg, you could walk the streets of Harare and Bulawayo without feeling you were playing a dangerous shot.

Mugabe’s fortified residence loomed right beside Harare Sports Club. Journalists heading to the ground trudged past checkpoints, sometimes interrupted by presidential helicopters buzzing overhead. The cricket board itself was firmly in Mugabe’s pocket. Its cigar-puffing chief, Peter Chingoka, once publicly threatened AFP’s John Kelly during a press briefing, forcing him to retract comments. The message was clear — toe the line, or perish.

Media accreditation was another minefield. A visiting journalist had to register with the Ministry, cough up USD 250, and endure a bureaucratic send-off to freedom of the press. Britain’s Daily Telegraph dispatched Mihir Bose to cover Murali’s impending milestone, but when Bose strayed into politics, he was promptly deported.

And yet, Zimbabwe was a land of breathtaking beauty. Victoria Falls roared in majestic splendour, a reminder of what the country could offer if freed from the shackles of poor governance.

Years later, Mugabe was finally bundled out in a coup. The nation, much like a side rebuilding after a collapse, is still picking itself up from the wreckage. Zimbabwe’s people deserve better — not a dictator. Their cricket, too, deserves better — not an authoritarian like Chingoka.

by Rex Clementine ✍️