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the whole episode both senseless and comical. It was only  much later in the 1990s when Aids began to record our frantic sexual hyperactivity through countless deaths, that the seemingly comic and meaningless statement of the writer bounced back as grimly foreboding prophecy pronounced on a drunk, ill-fated people.

Sadly as events would have it, not even the prophet had listened to his own prophecy!

The man and his gays

A week of sex laughter! First, you have Morgan Tsvangirai, the man who does not seem to know when to play Prime Minister of Zimbabwe, and when to be a pathetic party president. Befuddled by the miasma of foggy London, the man tells BBC’s Newsnight that his belief is that the “new” constitution of Zimbabwe must protect gay rights. For him it is given already that Zimbabweans will vote for a “new” constitution, apart from what rights that “new” constitution will enshrine and protect. Or was he putting himself above the country, above the process?
Clearly the man was not functioning as an MDC-T leader. Could never have been, given that he was out of Zimbabwe, and on the broadcaster of another state which happens to hold a definite viewpoint on the same matter of gay rights. Obviously, he tendered the opinion hoping to, or actually leaning heavily on his official status of PM, all for effect.

Aiding gays
Much worse, the fact of being on British soil and therefore under a Government with a definite pro-gay position, must have been at the back of his mind. That Government has made it known and clear at the highest level that it will withhold aid to all countries which do not uphold gay rights.

Judging by Tsvangirai’s subsequent denials, it is clear he felt obligated to be in sync with his reluctant hosts, recalling of course that the British had denied him VIP courtesies at the airport, rudely asking him to un-shoe and un-belt, at immigration entry points. Such indignities which even little-important Manheru is spared, were enough to upset him, which is what makes his subsequent quest for a harmonised position on gays both quite baffling and startling. Was the interview meant to court aid and goodwill from such a bankrupt government arduously push-carting a phlegmatic economy, while facing a restive underclass?

Gaily flip-flopping
Let us take this sex puzzle a little further. Apart from baffling Zimbabweans, the man simply did not make sense to himself, especially when read against his past pronouncements on the same. In March 2010, he had decried this monstrosity of homosexuality, in the process taking the political risk of sounding like Robert Mugabe, his political foil and adversary.

A year and months later, the man had already morphed. Like a unique, overgrown pupa, he needed the cold British milieu and season to cast off his old rind, to slough off his puparium. I have always thought pupas do not slough off their hard shell in inclement weather, and away from their habitat? Not this one, apparently.
Tsvangirai knowingly went against the national sentiment on this touchy subject, which to me suggests that whatever he hoped to wring out of needy, parsimonious Britain, must have been worth the risk of the inevitable national revilement sure to follow. Or is the story true? That the Prime Minister has been compromised and is in the palms of the gay lobby?

More-gay, Moo-gay or muGay?
What followed was a stretch of humour. Take the New Zimbabwe.Com. headline: “Tsvangirai performs U-turn on gays”! The word here is “performs”, and it makes the headline remarkably physical, very visual. You can’t help but visualise His High Eminence from Makanda, turning and curling into an imperfect U shape “on gays”! Superb performance!

In no time, outraged Zimbabweans went into debating overdrive: Tsvangirai’s opponents going to town; his supporters abortively trying to get out of the town of infamy; neutrals shaking and sinking bald heads made heavy by utter shame.
Then the killer punch: “MOREGAY” Tsvangirai! It is a nickname sure to stick, sure to last, and one elastic enough to allow for a myriad permutations, all of them humorous. “Moor-gay”, bearing in mind our man is black and un-beautiful, the latter at the very least by the colour of his queer views!

Or “Moo-gay”, in tribute to how well he moos in sympathy with David Cameron, his newfound master. “Mugay” if you want to keep it simple and indigenous! “Mow-gay” if you are a farmer like me, given to reading the whole scenario from what the actual act does to one’s sparsely haired underside. You can also have “Maw-gay”, more so where the dictionary tells you “maw” has something to do with the “throat” of a voracious animal. Take your own pick, bearing in mind this is our big clansman!

When a cripple climbs
Realising where he had landed himself into, our man retreated, nay, recoiled, so ingloriously from his belief. He went to Parliament, all in the hope of matching one Zimbabwean Prime Minister I know from our first governing days into independence, a man whose scheduled appearance in Parliament was always a spectacular, swelling must-watch, both by the staggering depth of responses, and by manner and grace of presentation.

What a drab in comparison! Tsvangirai’s image minders must think again about this one. He has scrambled up a platform with a well known predecessor and style, and has thus invited a deadly comparison. Anyway, that is to wonder off the point.

Potsepotse muri ngochani . . .
In Parliament, he is asked about his views on gays, asked by MPs across parties, including outraged ones from his own party. His response is to accuse MPs of dwelling on the inane. “Potsepotse vamwe venyu muri ngochana futi!”

Goodness me! What an answer! Here is a man who finds the issue important enough to merit an answer when raised by a British journalist working for a British programme, Newsnight, belonging to a British state broadcaster, but who now dismisses it as too unimportant to be raised in the very House that passes laws for the very land which he wishes to deliver to his gays, and do so by law!
The MPs are in Copac; the MPs will turn the draft constitution into law. Why are they out of order or accused of delighting in the inane if they seek clarification on a matter the man wants included in the constitution? If the matter was so inane, why would it have to be in the constitution? If the matter was so inane, why did he oblige Newsnight an answer which committed him to a definite position, and what is more, a position so queerly opposed to the dominant national view? And the charge of chingochana kumaMPs?

Are we wrong to expect a bit of profound and thoughtful dignity from the holder of the Office of PM, an incumbent who must not behave like an upset, shunned but causeless village woman shouting by the communal well?

I am Morgan, Check my record . . .
With the matter not showing any sign of going away, the Prime Minister went for a third bite of the cherry, this time seemingly well-prepared and well-rehearsed. The preface to the paragraph that dealt with the matter was haughtily presumptuous: “Finally, I want to put finality and closure to an issue that has been misinterpreted, the issue of the so-called gay rights.”

Goodness me? Finality? Does the man think he owns and controls our minds? That his intellect approximates that of the oracle as to have the aura, weight and closure of an edict? Or that as Prime Minister of this country, he arrogates unto himself the final opinion? And listen to what follows: “My beliefs on this issue are a matter of public record. My beliefs manifest themselves in practice.”

But which record, Sir?

What is our Honourable Prime Minister saying? Just who are his speech drafters? Simply put, we have two conflicting “beliefs” and “public records” from him on the same matter: one proffered in Chitungwiza, another on the BBC Newsnight programme. Against such binary positions, what is the matter of public record?
Which belief, which public record, do we go by? Or which platform is not public: Chitungwiza kwatinogara uko (as Chimbetu would say), or the worldwide BBC Newsnight? What is his “practice” that is so open, so known to all of us that we can bear testimony to it? His “practices” as a Methodist Christian? His “practices” as a husband? His “practices” as a father? As a grandfather? As a family man?

Tethering his point to sexuality, why would he appeal to the court of public opinion on a matter otherwise so personal and so private, had it not been for his indiscretion? Surely before these utterances, we all gave him the benefit of straightness, which benefit he has voluntarily withdrawn from himself? Tethering his point to Methodism, in supporting gays, was he espousing the position of his Church? Does his own children, grandsons/-daughters or family understand this queer position he wants inserted into our constitution?

Damn home opinion
Let us clinch the main points. The Prime Minister has, yet again, equivocated, equivocated this time around in a manner that takes this deplorable trait of his a notch higher. All along we thought it is a matter of taking the position of the last person he spoke to, taking on the hue of the opinion that engaged him last.

His situation, it now appears, is worse than that. All it takes is for him to hear British opinion, for him to be in a climate where such an opinion is circulating, much worse backed by threats no matter how innocuous. He is a leader who trims himself to fit, to be agreeable, even if that goes against the home grain. For the edification of British opinion, he is prepared to damn home opinion, home culture. We are in trouble.

Beware of ignorant power
Much worse, quite noticeable in our PM is a creeping trait of overweening conduct which comes with exposure and proximity to power, minus the tempering intellect and humility. Both his flagrant disregard of home opinion in the BBC interview, and his abusive response when confronted on the same in Parliament, smack of a Teutonic giant at home, but one whose fear of the white and overseas makes him a cowering midget with no national viewpoint to defend.

His declaration of closure on a matter in public domain, suggests a convoluted sense of own intellect by a man who lacks it, indeed who needs it so bad.
All these are vain ego-boosting props which invite raucous laughter of utter contempt. Today we laugh at his attempted grandiosity simply because he wields no real power. With reckless voting, such laughter may, tomorrow, invite a bullet.

Ignorant power is violently peevish, more so to its own inadequacies and seen infractions.

Not worth a dime
Thirdly, on this one the Prime Minister has waded into a controversy which is not worth a dime. Here was a country battling the whole Western world on diamonds, a country on the verge of an agricultural season cursed with a reluctant finance minister. Indeed, here was a country at odds with the British Government, itself owner of the BBC which gave one of its leaders platform to speak to the world.

Why would the Prime Minister of this country pick visibility and controversy over a subject matter of such low returns? Which gay was he defending? Does such a mind suggest consciousness of the national interest, both by way of identifying it, and by way of defending it?

Having run riot in our governmental boardrooms, the British and their imperialist allies now seek a place and say in our bedrooms. And our Prime Minister obliges, indeed dignifies such gross intrusion in our bedroom as a people, parroting its prescriptions even? What personal practice is he prescribing to our children through such pronouncements.
And this strange attempt to quote scriptures in self-defence? Is that God-fearing? One appreciates thoughtful hypocrisy. Not this!

Mrs Malaprop
The second laughter on sex came from Priscilla Misihairabwi-Mushonga, while berating her so-called uncles whom she blames for baneful quiescence to “dominant” Shonas!
Let me confess, I have a soft sport, sorry spot, for this lady. She is thrustful! She has a certain vigour of mind and thought which is beautifully outrageous, delightfully inciting. She has a split personality which allows her to circulate freely and delightfully in circles whose rheum she appears to court so assiduously.

Everyone – friend or foe – grants her the disarming graces of girlhood naivety, which is why she gets away with outrages which lands her political boss – Welshman Ncube – in deep trouble. If MDC wants to get away with murder, it had better send Priscilla with the dagger!

Sleeping to vote, slipping blue
She thinks Ndebele men who do not register to vote, who do not actually vote, must face sex sanctions, well calibrated by degree of aggravation. And she cobbles nice punch-lines for each situation: No voting slip, no sex; No blue finger, no sex! I like that, and wish to play a bit.

I am sure the good Minister knows Mrs Malaprop in Sheridan’s play, “The Rivals”. She was notorious for misusing words with similar sounds, all to comic effect. If Priscilla was Mrs Malaprop, she would have said: No voting sleep, no sex. No blue figure, no sex! The meaning would have been a lot richer, what with all the aphrodisic ring to the ritual of voting!
Of course the Minister is a woman , which is why she can only see matters her way. For that reason she has not budgeted for men who retort: No sex, no voting sleep, sorry, slip, while indeed agreeing that No blue finger, no sex, before proceeding to systematically colour their huge phalluses deep navy blue, saliva-lubricated mouth twisted and tilted!

However naughtily one handles both punch-lines, one cannot miss the rich humour prescribed, a medicine far better, far more healing than bashing heads.
I am set to cast my vote in Matabeleland, and, hey, I shall dip my finger deep Ndebele blue! Enjoy.
Icho!

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