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FOUR months have passed since l last penned this blog — good riddance to utter rubbish to some and a lengthy unbearable absence of a familiar voice for others.

Probably a welcome break from mediocrity for some and, certainly, a frustrating period for others who have become religious followers of all the crazy stuff I throw around here.

Like asking why sharply contrasting words like “clearly misunderstood,’’ “exact estimate,’’ “small crowd,’’ “acting naturally,’’ “found missing,’’ “fully empty,’’ “pretty ugly,’’ and “seriously funny,’’ can still twin each other to create phrases that make sense in the English language.

How a crowd can ever be deemed small, how an estimate can be exact and how something missing can be said to have been found?

Or how it’s right to mix words like, “open secret,’’ “tragic comedy,’’ “original copies,’’ foolish wisdom,’’ “liquid gas,’’ and ‘’only choice,’’ and still come up with a perfectly meaningful English phrase.

Why it’s proper to write that, “my neighbour’s kids always derive a lot of joy in playing among the LEAVES and yet start to cry every time their father LEAVES for work,’’ with the same word, “LEAVES,’’ evoking such a sharp contrast in emotions while being correct, depending with the context it was used.

Why a ROSE can mean such a beautiful thing like a flower and the same word can mean rising from a seat in a boxing ring, when the bell tolls for the heavyweight boxers to come forward and start another fierce round of the brutality of their profession.

The four-month absence of this blog from your favourite newspaper, which has been around for 128 years, was for some, a refreshing break from rubbish.

While, for others, it represented a frustrating time given they see a little bit of substance, and possibly a little more of value, in some of the things I write here.

For some, this was possibly a beautiful divorce from second rate, dull, inferior and pathetic stuff, and this group includes some of the most vicious critics who hold sting like a swarm of bees.

But, it’s something every serious blogger should be prepared for, especially in a diverse world where strong opinions can also attract strong responses, and where social media today gives everyone, including some lunatics, the freedom to transform themselves into reckless bullies.

For others, the last four months were probably a painful divorce from a staple diet given they, over the years, have fallen in love with this blog and, refreshingly, have a positive view, of it.

Too long, others complained, saying they needed more than the entire weekend to go through just one instalment of the article.

Which, in a world where time is becoming a premium and smartphones and all the football and cricket on television have become such powerful box-office attractions, was a huge challenge.

A touch too short, said others, who wanted more, including some, who wondered why I had never thought of converting it into a daily read, rather than a weekly piece, unaware how impossible this could be.

There have been occasional breaks, in terms of the appearance of this blog, since it announced its arrival 20 years ago, as the world prepared for the drawn of the new millennium.

But, of course, none as long as this one where a good four months passed without one edition of this blog appearing in this newspaper.

A SOUL-SEARCHING EXERCISE AND ANOTHER TRAGIC EXPERIENCE

During this blog’s time off the radar, I also underwent a soul-searching exercise.

A part of me was saying, after two decades of trying to come up with some decent stuff which people could read every week, maybe, the time had finally come to push this project into retirement.

After all, a number of its cousins – from the authoritative political blog by Nathaniel Manheru to Bothwell Mahlengwe’s insightful weekly journey into the world of our beautiful game, from Lawrence Moyo’s weekly dosage to Petros Kausiyo’s Big Interviews — have since eased into retirement.

Bill Saidi, whose “Bill Saidi on Wednesday,’’ column — in which he used to mix his deep political commentary with his love for Dynamos, his time in Mbare, and love for township music — including playing in a band called the Milton Brothers — had played a part in inspiring the start of this blog, had also died two years ago.

Just four months short of his 80th birthday.

“I’ve had a lot of fun writing columns for different newspapers in Zambia and Zimbabwe,’’ Bill once wrote. “I have always suspected that in journalism, in general, you are a zero if what you write or publish doesn’t make waves, doesn’t get people to sit up and notice, or provokes no more reaction than so what?

“For a regular columnist, the challenge is enormous. Every week, you have to write something so riveting readers feel compelled to read.

“Being recognised as a columnist can have its drawbacks. Tim Nyahunzvi (who, ironically, also became my journalism school lecturer) once told me that he met a receptionist at a hotel in Gweru who was crazy about my column — until she discovered how old I was.’’

Retiring this blog after 20 years and moving it from geography and into the history books looked very appealing to me.

After all, l had lost my dear wife, Florence, the person who was the strongest pillar of my strength, for more than a quarter-of-a-century, and life didn’t appear to have the same meaning.

That tragedy, coming just two years after losing my beautiful Chelsea-and-Dynamos-supporting sweetheart, my daughter Mimi, was a massive crushing blow.

And life didn’t appear to have the same value anymore.

But, then, one day my uncle told me the greatest expectations which have been placed on my shoulders were because of who l was — the guy who left Chakari as a poor and skinny boy to live all his adult life under the harsh scrutiny of the public eye.

After a while, I told him he was probably wrong, because the reality was that it was because of whom I had become, which was very different from the person I was when I first arrived in this big city, driven by nothing but a relentless pursuit of my dreams.

Someone who will probably never be understood, no matter how much l try, a game I lost a long time ago when I couldn’t even convince my daughter that I didn’t support Dynamos.

The reason being that a number of her friends in primary school kept saying to her their parents were telling them they believed I was a DeMbare fan.

In the last three months I have spent some intimate time with my son Kalusha, and there have been a lot of reflections.

Especially, those related to the two beautiful and loving women we lost along the way — and there were some tears, a lot of pain and a whole lot of crying.

Then, one morning we remembered the world also lost Aretha Franklin last year, but the music didn’t stop, South Africa lost Winnie Madikizela-Mandela last year, but the struggle didn’t stop and Africa lost Kofi Annan last year, but the diplomacy didn’t stop.

“Never give up work,’’ Professor Stephen Hawking, one of the world’s finest and most beautiful minds, who also died last year, once said.

“Work gives you meaning and purpose and life is empty without it (and) if you are lucky enough to find love, remember it is there and don’t throw it away.”

The Professor appeared to be speaking directly to us.

And I opened my laptop, and began to write something, everything — a song, a letter, a poem — and started to go through all the emails, to check my Facebook and Twitter accounts and even had a cold beer.

I could write articles again for this newspaper, edit others, but a return to writing this blog, because of its personal nature, was something l simply was failing to do.

Of course, until this week.

The world can be a brutal and lonely place but you know there is hope when someone has the wisdom to see that Jose Mourinho had become a weapon of mass destruction at my beloved Manchester United and he simply had to go.

And when the world’s richest man, Jeff Bezos, divorces his wife of 25 years and, together, they issue a statement that, “if they knew they were going to separate after 25 years, they would do it all over again.”

Hello Zimbabwe, it’s me, I was just wondering, after all these months, if we could chat again and thank you for all your prayers.

Your boy from Chakari, who became a man before your very eyes, and a godfather to his friends, is back in the space he feels most comfortable.

Let’s go on another wild ride, for good or for worse, because – after all – this is life and let’s enjoy it while it lasts.

To God Be The Glory!
Come on FC Platinum!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nomaraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
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