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benchmarks that separate boys from men. 
And consequently, in the village the eye is trained on both this priceless and invaluable ideal, as well as its antithesis called folly. You can recognise a wizened face if you see one and the face of the fool when you see one.
And does it take a second glance to do so? Of course, not! The sparse grey hair on a weather-beaten small heads suspended on a sinewy body tell a story of wisdom. Or if that doesn’t, which unfortunately might be the case, it is the word of the mouth that speaks of the wisdom of age, of experience and even of intuition.
Thus when someone opens their mouths to speak, you can judge by the quality of the orature if they are indeed wise or not; being variably old and otherwise.
Is there not a saying that you may never recognise a fool until he opens his mouth to speak?
This is the kind of people that our elders usually send off to skin the goat for the roast relish in between serious deliberations. The remaining elders speak matters of State, policy and society with the deliberate exudation of wisdom delivered in so well measured speeches, in both tone and substance.
This villager has in the past week or so, been following events in the religious world, where prophecies have been given and interpreted for misinterpreted, even. Spin doctors, sponsored by the world of folly, have pointed prophecies to the wrong direction. 
This villager will not hug a hyena to make peace and will not sip from the proverbial poisoned cup out of religious etiquette, courtesy or diplomacy, because he is no hypochondriac.
Handidye huroyi nekunyara! No amount of cosmetic can beautify a frog. These so-called prophecies should be condemned with befitting diction.
Being Easter Holiday, these men and women who wear executive suits and costumes and have formed their churches to steal from the poor have certainly been seeking relevance.
They form these churches, preach and prophesies falsehood, hiding behind ambiguity and riding on the crest of people’s fears, misery, suffering, gullibility and of course, lack of solutions to their teething day to day problems.
Most of those calling themselves prophets and pastors are mere boys, whose contribution to State — related religious stability disqualifies them from the public pulpit but qualifies them for the goat skinning oeuvre.
Let us not forget that history send Bishop Abel Muzorewa and Reverend Ndabaningi Sithole skinning the goats at the dawn of independence in 1980 and never think history was cruel to these clergymen. No! They belonged there. Period.
So these boys, calling themselves prophets, must prove their mettle for no man should cry foul if lizards visit his house after bringing home a grub infested log.

“Vanopfeka masutu, vachizviita vatsvene
Vano fomawo machechi, vachiparidza nhando
Vanonyepera nezita raMwari, vachiti Mwari baba,
Vachibira varombo mambo
Hapana mutsvene pasi pano, tose tiri vatadzi chete”

That was Thomas Mapfumo way back in 1994, before the advent of these later day motivational speakers disguised as prophets. And they have become too many. Most of them have godfathers elsewhere who are not God himself and one wonders where the world is heading to.
While in the village, Easter is time for food and drink — time for urbanites to descend and reconnect with their routes, in urban place it is different.
In the past there was something about one TB Joshua, then came in Makandiwa and the ambiguity of their statements has been interpreted by their gullible followers, newspapers included to cast doubt on our humanism, nationhood and Africanism.
This village can tell you that most of the people who follow these motivational speakers, whom they have turned into deities, have themselves teething problems that unhinge their brains and leave them gullible to myopic interpretations. Most of the follower lack wisdom and knowledge.
In the village a prophecy is like water. You can drink it, swim in it, wear a snorkel in it but you can also drown in it. It is everything, fluid, corrosive, limpid and translucent, even.
But you need a good ear, not the one for decoration but the one to listen. You need wisdom and knowledge to be able to decode and encode the messages properly without being abused by these smartly dressed young tycoons, whose pockets have been lined by their forked tongues. The village soothsayer, the autochthon of knowledge and wisdom, contents that these small man and women abusing God and His word were fast getting excited.
Some of them have climaxed and sooner rather than later, if not by end of Easter, will be past their best before dates.
The soothsayer says its high time Zimbabweans in their broad totality understand the difference between religion and religiosity, the art and the belief.
By village standards there are many people who get excited if they stand before a sizeable crowd and these man calling themselves latter day prophets, are equally getting excited but one day one of them will be brought to book.
At this juncture, this villager is sure that Tourism and Hospitality Industry Minister Walter Mzembi would call this religious tourism.
It is growing industry in which these so called prophet attract many people, gather them in their respective shrines and tell them what they want to hear.
But what is worrying is the level of prophecy which, borders on religious mischief, which is interpreted with political mischief and misdirection by newspapers for their self-gain.
There have been impish attempts to link some prophecies to the leadership of this country but surely, no one, not even the village soothsayer has powers to foretell when so and so will die.
Such prophecies border on religious stupidity and so are the interpretations, which are unAfrican, silly, uncouth, scurrilous and scandalous.
The village soothsayer has a word for both the journalist and the self-claimed prophets: “One day and just one day . . . Zvichapera zvekuhwanda nezita raMwari”.