Zimbabwe cricket the brave

The Members will clap politely, the Zimbabwean contingent a little more vociferously when Grant Flower and Gavin Rennie walk out onto the hallowed turf of Lord's for the first Test starting Thursday.

The golden bird glistening on his helmet, Flower will meticulously check the padded protection on his chest, thigh and forearm before he marks his guard.

At the Pavilion end, England's Darren Gough, new ball in hand, will just as meticulously mark his run-up.

At 11, the chiming clock in the tower will signal the start of the five-day battle between leather and willow.

Ten thousand kilometres and a continent away in a landlocked country in southern Africa, population around 12 million - less in the last six weeks - there is a battle of a different kind.

One that involves land rights and war veterans, squatters and farmers, blood and tears. A battle nevertheless that has just as salient an effect on the Zimbabwean team's performance at the proverbial home of cricket as any strategy England captain Nasser Hussain can concoct.

"It's obviously not ideal," said captain Andy Flower at the team practice a day after their arrival in London. "Everyone's worried but we have to think positively and hope that things do sort themselves out.

`'As far as additional pressure, at this level of sport there are always distractions and this is another distraction which should not affect performance or practice."

Strong, stoic words but the captain would find just two days later that his team were in fact already feeling the strain.

A rain interrupted draw against Hampshire in the tour opener was followed by a crushing innings and 163 run defeat at the hands of Kent.

Heads bent, shoulders drooping the Zimbabweans cut a dismal figure on the field, the happenings at home obviously not constrained to the subconscious.

"It was very very difficult at the beginning," said team manager Dan Stannard, who incidentally served on the country's Central Intelligence Agency until his retirement and received a medal for saving President Robert Mugabe's life shortly after the 1980 elections.

"After the loss at Kent we realised we needed to talk about it and put structures in place that would ensure that the boys could concentrate on their cricket," he added.

"So now the procedure is to give them as much information as possible. We have a team meeting every day with feedback from both the players and people at home. "We go through the papers and discuss the various issues and then try and put it behind us. We've also made it possible for them to speak to their families on a daily basis."

The farm occupations and ensuing violence has already claimed 21 lives with hundreds more on the injured list.

Little has been left to the imagination in the past two months with both electronic and print media making us privy to the indelible images of mass destruction.

On tour in one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world, the Zimbabwean cricketers had only to switch on the television sets in their hotel rooms to have an idea of the state of affairs back home.

Burning crops and houses, scattered shoes the tell-tale sign of people fleeing in terror, bricks crashing though windows, the splattering of blood. . .

Makes things like forward defensives, pulls through midwicket and surviving a barrage of bouncers seem inconsequential in comparison, doesn't it?

Five of the squad of 16, Heath Streak, Bryan Strang, Dirk Viljoen, Guy Whittall and Alistair Campbell are farmers. When Andy Blignaut joins them for the one-day series, that number will increase to six.

Streak, who has postponed his wedding to our England, was cautiously confident while he packed his kitbag.

"If the security of our families was at risk we may want to go back," he said. "I can't see it coming to that, I feel quite optimistic but we'll have to keep a close eye on what's happening."

His father, Denis whose links to cricket are just as strong, was a bit more hesitant. "It hasn't been very pleasant, you feel defenceless," Streak snr told the Guardian earlier this month.

Calls to the Streak cattle and game ranch 70km north of Bulawayo this week were for two days met with the resonating ring of an unanswered telephone.

When the instrument was finally put out of its misery on the morning of the third day, the shaky voice on the other end belonged to a woman who identified herself as the housekeeper.

The response to "may I speak to Denis, please?" was a nervous, "He's not here. They went to New Zealand."

"Do you know when they will be back?"

"Trip will take long time."

The call to the Viljoen's farm elicited a similar response. "They're not here."

"When will they back? Today, tomorrow?"

"Don't know. They're gone...."

Parents of players who were reached spoke of how proud they were of their sons who were "trying to do the right thing despite the trouble."

As a reflection of the situation they now find themselves in, they were adamant their names be kept out of print.

The reason? The Zimbabwean authorities have been coming down hard on people who they deem are expressing anti-government, unpatriotic statements. An apparent two months away from the general election, even attending an opposition party meeting is deemed treasonous.

Sadly, the picture they paint is even bleaker than the ones we see on our television screens.

"It's really a frightening thing," said one father. "To see your farm suddenly taken over by 200 people, not to able to harvest and see your neighbours killed. What do we tell our boy? We tell him we are fine, things are OK. He has an important job to do."

Success in England, it seems, is the one thread of fragile hope that both the Zimbabwean team and those who follow them at home are holding on to.

"The morale is high and it's obviously better when the sun is shining," said Stannard rather wryly.

"After that talk in Canterbury, the guys have really applied themselves and we are determined to out Zimbabwe back on the map - for the right reasons."

His words are echoed by all-rounder and team stalwart Neil Johnson.

It is glaringly apparent that the players have been told to steer clear of the politics surrounding the conflict but Johnson offers that unguarded sincerity that is rarely an option for a manager or captain.

"We are scared and the guys, especially the farmers are worried," he offered. "But we get regular reports and the guys phone home and email a lot. "The thing is that it is happening, you know. And we can't ignore it.

"But we are here to play cricket and the guys know that the only way we can make a difference is to win and give the people back home something to celebrate."

With the two Tests being followed by a triangular limited-overs tournament which includes the West Indies, and games against Ireland also scheduled, it will be the end of July before the team see the inside of Harare airport.

Three months is a long time to be away during times of such turmoil. A lot can change.

"Ja, we think about that," conceded Johnson, "but this thing has really brought the guys closer together.

"We have elections soon and all the guys are very hopeful and now we have an added incentive for getting a few wins."

For five days this week, for many Zimbabweans across that land there will be a brief respite from what a mother of one player called "a living hell".

When Grant Flower elegantly strokes Gough through the covers, the cheers from 10 000km away will be the ones that are most poignant.

What a responsibility for such a congenial bunch of cricketers to bear.