WATCH: Activist priest Evan Mawarire - a man for Zim's new season

It may have been the biggest defence team yet assembled in a court. When Pastor Evan Mawarire was charged last week with inciting public violence - and then with subverting an elected government - his counsel was crowd-sourced.

"I saw, in this packed courthouse, between 50 and 60 lawyers that had come to represent me - for no charge, and without any invitation. When the magistrate asked 'Can I see the practising certificate of the lawyer that's representing the accused?' all 50 or 60 whipped out these certificates."

But it fell to one lawyer, Harrison Nkomo, to win the liberty of Zimbabwe's citizen activist, by arguing that the last-minute addition of the charge of subversion was unconstitutional.

While magistrate Vakayi Chikwekwe weighed the demands of justice against the heaviness of the regime, Mawarire sat on the stairway down to the cells. "There was one wall between the courtroom and the dirty, dark, urine-stinking concrete stairway. I was so cold, but I've never felt warmer. Because in the courthouse, the people broke out in song.

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"They sang worship songs, and I heard someone praying. And I thought: 'Are they in court?! Is court still in session? What's going on?' And I knew even if I don't go home tonight, something amazing has happened here. By the end of the evening, both had taken place."

Mawarire, 38, is now in Johannesburg, and he doesn't know when he'll go home. He speaks to me after a gruelling gauntlet of media interviews. He's on overdrive, plugged into the voltage of his compatriots' dreams.

"I am now having to have a strong think about when I will go back home," he says. "Because the events of the last few days make it clear to me that I may not be as safe as I thought I would be. And my family, more importantly, may not be as safe as they would ordinarily be."

Mawarire's #ThisFlag movement is an organic, citizen-led moment, drawing on the viral, leaderless spirit of Turkey's Gezi Park and Egypt's Tahrir Square. But the desolate aftermath of both those uprisings have shown that popular rage must be channelled by brave, strategically astute leaders if it is to yield real change.

Mawarire may not become a formal opposition politician. He may not become the next leader of Zimbabwe. But he has the goods to do so.

His oratory is burnished by years of preaching, and he deploys it to skilfully reconcile two truths that President Robert Mugabe presents as mutually exclusive: that Zimbabwe's liberation war was a momentous and glorious sacrifice; and that it has been betrayed by the very heroes who led it.

"I am part of the age group who grew up in the Zimbabwe of the 1980s," says Mawarire. "And anyone who experienced it will tell you that was a magical time ... that was the closest we have come to the Zimbabwe we wish for. Education was good, access to health was amazing, our parents worked and provided for their families.

A process of equitable distribution of land must go with a process of making the land produce

"I come from a large family, with six children. And my mom and dad put all of us through a good education. They were able to buy a home that we lived in.

"The roads worked, there was electricity, the tap water was safe to drink. You could apply for a job and be given it on the merit of your ability. That's the Zimbabwe I grew up in.

"I knew there was a university to go to when I left school. My dreams did not necessarily have to be about leaving Zimbabwe.

"As a child I had the utmost admiration for the heroes of our liberation. It was fresh in the memory of our teachers, most of whom came out of the war. They taught that to us with passion and conviction. The Josiah Tongogaras ... the Herbert Chitepos, the Edson Zvobgos, the Robert Mugabes, Rex Nhongos. These were towering figures.

"When you grow up, you look at your own parents and you start to see their mistakes. And you look at the heroes of the nation and you realise they are but men," Mawarire says.

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One of his formative experiences came as a teenager, when he served out a year-long exile in Zimbabwe's boondocks. He had just failed his O-level mock exams at Harare's Prince Edward, an elite private school.

"I was a boarder, and admittedly I got a bit carried away with social things - the clubs and sport."

His father, who worked as an internal auditor in the Department of Home Affairs - he now farms to survive, as his pension went the way of all Zimbabwean pensions - sent him to a state school in remote Magunje, near Karoi, where the only entertainment was the curriculum.

"I studied with kids who walked 16km to school in the morning. It woke me up. I started to understand that life is not handed to you on a silver platter. That some people have to fight.

"The school's fence had been stolen, so there was just a gate, which people went through faithfully. The doors had been stolen. No electricity, Blair toilets. We had to bath in the toilet with a bucket."

On his return, Mawarire trained as an auto electrician, but in time could not ignore the call of the cloth. His wife, Samantha, is also a preacher - they met in a group for young adults at their church.

"She played hard to get," he says. "I always say to her: 'I don't think it was my looks that did it. But I think that I have a way with words with you.' And she laughs and says: 'Nah, I allowed you, my friend. Don't beat your chest [in pride] too much.'"

Samantha is his guide and adviser. "She tells me: 'You are a go-getter, if you are convinced about something, you won't stop until it's done. So my job is to be a spotter for you, almost to be a GPS for you.' That bird's-eye view: turn left, turn right, stop right there."

He will need her GPS for the decisions ahead. Mawarire says #ThisFlag must stay on a nonviolent, law-abiding course.

"The memory of the liberation struggle means a war is something that nobody wants to go through again ... And we are peaceful people. If we weren't, Zimbabwe would have broken into a war a long time ago.

"So there is a very healthy respect amongst the citizens for the sanctity and dignity of human life. Most people my age know of somebody in their family that gave their life in the war. A price was paid for a peaceful, prosperous Zimbabwe.

"But now that other people have almost become what the colonialists were before, the feeling is that now we have to demand yet again something that was already given to us."

Mugabe's land restitution was a deeply flawed attempt at placating the masses, he says.

"I think Zimbabwe sacrificed herself to be a case study for South Africa, for Africa, for the world, when it comes to the land question. A country's people are entitled to own land, possibly the best of their land.

"But in Zimbabwe, after the farms were taken, most of it has now become idle. The lessons learnt are now clear. A process of equitable distribution of land must go with a process of making the land produce for you."

He has sympathy for Morgan Tsvangirai and the decline of the Movement for Democratic Change. "I take my hat off to those men and women. I don't know him personally, and haven't been a part of the MDC, but my experience in the last couple of months makes me understand how tough it has been for that man, and for those in opposition politics.

"Sometimes it's easy to fold your arms and say you've wasted our time. That role had to be played. There was no script for it. They have walked a very long journey."

Should Mugabe get an exit package - a promise of legal immunity and ill-gotten wealth if he surrenders power? "There are mixed feelings about how that should play out. But I think the one thing that should override all is, if our government would one day wake up and admit their failures to us - and, in fact, it is possibly their major failing that they never admit to making a mistake - it would shock every Zimbabwean.

"We just want a change. We would never chase you down for every injustice that we think you perpetrated. But if we could start with you agreeing that we deserve a change, it would start to make us happy. So as we go towards elections in 2018, the desire of Zimbabweans is to say: 'Let's wrap this thing up, because we have the power to do so. Let's wrap it up at the ballot box. And just say goodbye, and welcome something new.'"

Twitters of a building storm

Evan Mawarire triggered the #ThisFlag movement, and his Facebook and Twitter accounts are flooded with messages of solidarity and advice from Zimbabweans at home and across the world, along with sniping attacks from supporters of President Robert Mugabe. Here are some views from his Facebook feed:

Mbongi Moyo: Please, please Pastor, move to the UK or somewhere in Europe. South Africa isn't safe for you. You played your part and we are very grateful, you can carry on with your campaign from there. They are waiting for you back home - I am sure you heard the Zanu-PF Youths yesterday and they surely don't make empty threats - they can make you disappear just like that, and no one will do anything about it.

Esther Chido: Evan Mawarire has played his part, people should NOT wait for him to make the change in Zimbabwe. Every single individual, including myself ... should ACT. We saw what happened in Turkey, people stood up and showed incredible determination, passion for their country. So as opposed to preaching about what Mawarire could and should have done, how about YOU act? As far as I am aware, he has done more than YOU or I have ever done in attempting to liberate Zimbabwe ...

Maizoda Rhoda Mutasa: The more time passes, we lose more and more momentum. Pastor Evan is not a politician and he doesn't want to be the leader, so let's find someone who is. Who has the stomach and who has what it takes to take on the government? Mind you, politics is a dirty game, not for everyone. You must be prepared to be beaten, locked up, and even killed for this cause.