If you’re in Zimbabwe and need cash, Vincent’s your guy. Two years ago, he graduated with a degree in accounting. But he didn’t land a job. So he’s on the street, exchanging U.S. dollars and South African rand for Zimbabwe’s failing currency. The country’s so short on cash, people line up at A.T.M.s for hours just to get 20 bucks. There are virtually no jobs. So Vincent’s generation, college-educated and ambitious, is stuck, hawking shoes, phone chargers, bras. Many give up and leave. Right now any money he makes goes to a broker, who has promised to get him work papers in South Africa. Vincent’s trying to get out, too. We came to Zimbabwe to witness its first elections since Robert Mugabe was forced out. For almost 40 years, Mugabe’s oppressive rule isolated the country and crippled its economy. The military-backed government that overthrew him promised change. They even called an election, and let in journalists. We saw genuine excitement on the street. Followed by violence. Six people were killed, and the same ruling party was declared the winner. So is this true change? Sure, Mugabe is gone. But everywhere we look, corruption, violence and fear still run deep. Like here. In 2005, the ruling party forced nearly 700,000 people into squatter camps. The goal: To create a voting bloc dependent on the state and break up opposition strongholds. The result: a broken community. We meet Collen. He was brought here after the government burned his home. He’s lived here for 15 years and the place still lacks basic infrastructure. But his vocal criticism has made him a target for intimidation. So he’s moved his family into hiding. Desperate, many women here turn to prostitution. Because of the cash shortage, Tracey’s clients send payments to her phone — if they pay at all. Outside of the capital, we see the roots of despair in these neglected fields. Agriculture is critical to Zimbabwe’s economy. This is Steve Krynauw. Eighteen years ago, he lived here. In 2000, Steve and three friends were kidnapped, beaten and left for dead. One friend was killed. It was part of Robert Mugabe’s plan to right the wrongs of colonialism by seizing land owned by white farmers and giving it to black Zimbabweans — by force if necessary. Steve was driven off his farm and never compensated. But the property didn’t go to local black farmers. It went to a military family loyal to the party. With no farming experience, the land went to waste and the house burned in a brush fire. It was a common story. Seizing the land and handing it out to a ruling elite that led the country to total ruin. And the same elite still governs. But then, there’s Richard Muvungha. He’s a veteran. Fifteen years ago, he was granted this land formerly owned by a white cattle rancher. He learned how to farm and transformed the property. But his investment isn’t guaranteed. The state owns all of the redistributed lands. Richard can’t use his property as collateral for loans. It’s hard to acquire new plots for expansion. And the risk remains that the government could seize it from him at any time. The night the election results are announced, the city is on lockdown. We see only riot police and soldiers. The opposition challenges the results. “Persecution. Intimidation.” Journalists are corralled by police. Reports emerge of beatings and arrests. It’s a far cry from the peace and prosperity that were promised.