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Company closures have put the pressure on low-income families such that more and more people are becoming destitute. In this file picture, people queue to audition for posts at a recently-opened radio station

Ignatius Mabasa Shelling The Nuts
IN the beautiful world of storytelling, the hunter can easily become the hunted, and the predator the prey. A jungle fire started by the naughty Hare, doesn’t only choke and expose the snakes in the grass, but the same fire can scorch the slow Chameleon and traumatise the innocent Tortoise.

Of course, the fire will provide a feast of barbecued carrion to the Hyena and Vulture, but at the same time it will also seriously expose the calculating Leopard and the wily Monkey.

The local political jungle is also on fire, revealing some supposed snakes that have been hiding in the grass.

Let me not influence the plot, but instead take a sip of good old Mazowe and wait for the storyteller to conclude.

The US dollar has become slippery and elusive like a wet fish, and poverty is stalking the people, licking its chops and ready to pounce.

We need to find the hole that is draining this economy and plug it with a steel lid, and then weld it so that we can rest assured that it is dead and that not even its ghosts will resurrect.

I know a young man who has been looking for a job since he graduated six years ago. At the same time, another young man told me he has been dating for four years now and wants to marry his girlfriend and settle down, but he has no job, no money for lobola, no money to look after a wife, to buy food and pay rent.

Company closures have put the pressure on low-income families such that more and more people are becoming destitute.

My cousin was laid off and my brother’s salary got cut and he is now working a two-week shift.

His wife is expecting twins and as for me, I can really feel my poverty.

In this very land of ours, I saw Poverty walking his two dogs called Homelessness and Hunger. He set the two vicious canines on a harmless and homeless old man who was begging at a big and busy shopping mall.

The old man was hoping to get something — money or food because he was very hungry.

He could have been grateful if someone offered him a job, but he did not want a job because he did not want to be asked too many questions. He neither had identity papers, nor references.

He had no permanent home with a gate, a door and a roof above. Also, he had just become too old and weak to do any meaningful work.

The old man was dirty and smelly. His hair and beard were like an old and dirty mop. He could not afford the luxury of buying soap to wash his clothes or even wash himself. There was no place he could wash his clothes, let alone take a bath. So, whenever he was fortunate to get some change from shoppers at the mall, he just bought himself some food. Food was more important than shaving.

On this particular day at the shopping mall, he saw people come and go, but nobody cared to give him any change or food. He knew that some days were like waiting for the rain. And very soon the shops were going to close and the people would stop coming to buy.

The old man knew that he would go hungry again that night. Hunger had a bad habit of brutally gnawing his intestines at night such that he could not sleep.

The old man’s tummy was grumbling, he was so hungry that his head was threatening to split into two. The shop attendants at the mall started rolling down the many huge metal doors and locking up for the day. The last few shoppers packed their groceries in their car boots and drove off. In no time, the shopping mall was almost deserted.

The old man who was sitting on the pavement stood up and staggered. He looked across the vast shopping mall and felt very sad and lonely. Not even the colourful blinking lights could cheer him up. He had to walk back to the bridge pipe that served as his home. He was hoping that he would find it still his. Ownership of public property is very contentious.

As he stood on the pavement stretching himself, his eyes noticed something that gave him a sudden rush of energy. The light evening breeze blowing across the vast and empty shopping mall parking lot was carrying a $100 note towards him.

Suddenly the old man felt like a boy. He looked around and saw that nobody was after the money. His heart was pounding and his ears were hearing a strange orchestra. He prepared to catch the note as it got closer to him, but his clumsy stick-like fingers missed.

He found himself running after the money. The wind was not blowing hard, it was just a gentle breeze, but for an old man, it was very fast. He hobbled after the $100 note — his heart racing with him. His greatest fear was that he would lose the money. He had last held such a big note in his dreams, but now this was no dream.

He ran and bumped into a parked car, but fortunately he did not break anything on him or the car. He continued to chase the money and his fear now was that someone was going to see it, catch it and claim it. He told himself he should not let this chance of a lifetime go. He ran and this time, he saw the $100 note gently lift from the ground into the air like an aeroplane taking off.

The old man thought he was definitely going to lose the money. He feared that the note could land at the back of a moving truck or on top of a moving bus. This fear inspired him to run faster, with his hands stretched and ready to catch the note.

A finely dressed young woman, who was wearing a hooded jacket and carrying some grocery bags was walking towards her car when she heard the old man’s struggling and heavy breathing sounds behind her. She turned her head, and at that point the $100 note flew into the young woman’s hood, almost like a bird entering its nest. When the young woman saw the old man running towards her, she thought he was after her bag, so she screamed at the top of her voice – shouting “Help help, thief! He is attacking me!”

The old man stopped and soon the very few people who were left at the mall came running to rescue the young woman. Some held the old man and pushed him to the ground, putting his hands behind his back. Everything happened so fast and in no time, the police were at the scene and arrested the old man. They recorded a statement from the young woman and also from two other witnesses.

The old man, tried to explain himself, but the crowd would not have it. They shouted so many abuses and threatened to beat him up.

They told him that if life in the city was proving to be too hard for him, he should go to the rural areas and get a piece of land from the chief.

As the police prepared to whisk the old man away, the young woman got into her Mercedes Benz and started talking to someone on her cellphone. As the police drove the old man away, he looked at the young woman, his heart aching for the $100 note caught in the hood of her jacket. The young woman was talking on her phone in the fading lights of the shopping mall.

The old man’s only prayer was for the police to find him something to eat at the police station.

My fellow countrymen, as I read and hear the shocking accusations of corruption and greediness in the news, I think of the poor, jobless, homeless, hopeless and hungry among us.

Like Joseph Addison I am forced to ask, “Is there not some chosen curse, some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven, red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man or woman who owes his greatness to his country’s ruin?”