To be or not to be, is the question Nelson?
Well, they say, trying to talk sense to Nelson Chamisa is as good as winking at a blind person. It is a horrible waste of time. He sees nothing.
Now it’s a year after the last national election and so Nelson still thinks he is Zimbabwe’s best, playing with the Bible in one hand and spike-spin knobkerrie in the other. The timbre of his ambition being grossly overrating himself. Nelson is following other pseudo-clerics like Reverend Ndabaningi Sithole and Bishop Abel Muzorewa, whose political careers were built on sand and collapsed.
Can someone tell this young adult, Nelson, that politics is about strategy, vision and consistency? It is not about brazen ambition, power hunger and grandstanding.
It is about nation building. It is not about the jecha mentality. Even the Bible he so makes us believe is the harbinger of his wisdom says things must be built on a rock foundation and obviously not on sand. Was Peter not the rock? But you see, stupid, like a silent fart, soon announces itself through smell. How does Nelson build his political career on sand, jecha? Well, that is very stupid and to even brag about canoodling the economy with sand, is a fallacy of all times.
Our mole tells us Nelson is not gifted with listening. He just does not listen to anyone. They say trying to tell him something is as good as winking at a blind man.
Yes, now he is looking for divine intervention while at the same time hiding a dangerous knobkerrie. That is the confusion. One day he says we are going for demonstrations, the next day he says we must pray for the nation. It is called confusion. An animal with a famous name does not fill a hunter’s basket … Nelson, Nelson … Nelson!
Trickery is trickery but, the MDC- ALLIANCE has lost the plot. They are even tricking themselves out of national politics. There was a time when they were invited for national dialogue, they missed that chance. The train is going on. There was a time they were being taken seriously, the time is out. The country is moving ahead without them. To be part of nation building or not to be is now the question. But to be, Nelson should swallow his pride. Not to be, Chamisa makes the greatest mistake and commits political suicide.
A friend in the close circles tells us, all is not well in this party and the motor-mouth president is losing his grip. The majority have now discovered Nelson as a power-hungry, unreasonable, emotionally unstable and careless leader, who let blood run into his brain and just say anything.
We are told, Job Sikhala, forever the rogue one, the unthinking one and, indeed, the daring one, is on Nelson’s throat. Sikhala has more questions for Nelson that the young adult can answer. Sikhala’s beef is that he dared bell the cat. When he announced the coup plot before 2023, in yonder Bikita, he said what had been agreed but Nelson threw him under the bus. Nelson said Sikhala was out of his mind and that the party had not taken that position. And, yet the reverse was true.
But those who know Sikhala will tell you he is as rogue as he looks. They are battling to avoid him from confronting Nelson. Sikhala is pissed off.
Since violently taking over power, Nelson obviously overrated himself and his cronies fooled him to believe he was the Alfa and Omega of Zimbabwe’s politics.
When you run out of wit, political wit, time teaches you to behave. We know the rogue ones are pushing him hard to deliver a coup, but he is aware that he cannot do it. It is impossible. Now he knows that even the sand dooms can collapse. Nelson has only one option, to bury his head in the sand.
Section 40: Maybe we spoke too soon
We almost most got it guys; that we could sort of legalise our small houses, with the madams having to make do with whatever time we could spare for them.
You see this Marriages Bill almost had us in firm control without having to worry about accounting for our shenanigans. This so-called registration of marriages, and having to stick to the madam till death do us apart thing do not augur well with some of us.
Imagine having to explain your every move, and account for every cent that took donkey years for you to accumulate, and when you depart for the other side the struggle for your flesh continues, with everyone tearing at your poor pound of flesh.
The small houses, of course, and the several children who will be asked to stand up for everyone to see at that inevitable appointment with the Maker, will lose out if the madam holds on to the Marriage Certificate and reminds all and sundry of the “I do” thing.
Section 40 almost came to our rescue, much to the chagrin of the madams and the delirium of our small houses. The madams sulked on end as debate raged on the merits and demerits of the Marriages Bill, and small houses committed to keep them in that state or worse.
You know what it is with small houses and putting their feet firmly on the ground when they feel that they are in the driving seat. Some even had the nerve to visit the big houses to spite them, and taking inventory of zvishandwa, so that they know how much they could lay claim to in the event of the dear Mr.’s departure.
It worries us sometimes, to think of it; that our children from the dear madam, and the beloved small house, or is it small houses, would have to haggle over our silent perfect corpses.
Depriving us of the much needed rest, as they say.
Section 40 kind of offered a solution to that quandary, but alas, in their wisdom, the powers that be ruled that such unions consolidated through whatever they are worth should not get in the way of hunhu/ubuntu as enshrined in our customs.
The family unit, they averred, should not suffer through legalisation of debauchery, and if one so wished to have more than one wife, they should legally do so through the Act.
Eish! Now the sulking, despondency and frustration have shifted base.
The madam can’t stop laughing, and the small house wears that familiar smile; and you know what it means to the ego!
Maybe we spoke and celebrated too soon!
Of virtual bundles that disappear
I always thought that bundles should be felt, held and weighed. When sent to buy vegetables we were always told to be careful, lest we were shortchanged. Our mothers were particular about bundles that belittled their worth, I mean such bundles that could not reflect the money paid; somehow taking the buyer for granted, or taking her/him for a fool.
They were quick to send us back kugarden kwamukoma Amos, or kwaHonoured if the feeling was that the bundle was not big enough to fill the hollow left by enclosed fingers.
Bundles should be worth it, my grandmother would say.
Yes, bundles should be worth it. That is the meaning of a bundle; you cannot pay for a few leaves of vegetables, or whatever is measured as a collection under the false impression that it is a bundle.
These bundles that we are told about; are they really bundles?
They say they are called data bundles. Is data measured in bundles; real bundles as our mothers called them? If they were bundles they could not have this tendency of just disappearing.
Before you get a chance of even using them, voila, they are gone, and you are left clutching the wind. What with this motomuzhinji that is no longer moto at all!
Some will entice you through some night data bundles; if you know the night as we do, you know that the night is meant for sleep. If you use these so-called night bundles before 2am you are lucky; and by 5am they would have expired. Whatever has a nocturnal connection scares the lot of us. There is always something witchy about it.
Even if they are meant for three days or a week, chances are that dawn will always appear before you use them.
So-called social media bundles; are they really bundles? Maybe they should find another name for them. Bundles? No! Our grandmothers would sneer at the mention of such a word for something that cannot be felt, weighed or held in both hands.
Seeing that our mothers and grandmothers had a way of regulating behaviour to curb wanton shortchanging, couldn’t there be a watchdog somewhere to protect us from overcharged or undercharged bundles that in essence are no bundles at all?
Stop mortgaging our cricket
Can someone in the higher offices tell the authorities at the Sports and Recreation Commission and the Zimbabwe Cricket to stop their frivolous fight of egos and allow the game to be!
Right now the country has been suspended by the International Cricket Council and we stand to lose more if our membership is revoked in October. Yet it appears no one really gives a cricketing damn.
This is a national sport that we are talking about and why would people be allowed to use the game to settle personal scores? Yes, we hear it’s more than just about the game!
Minister Kirsty Coventry, this is a test for you. When you came into office last year we were convinced that the perennial problem child, ZIFA, was going to be the one to give you such challenges. We really felt for you. We did not anticipate that from ZC.
But after that elective meeting on June 14 everything turned haywire. We don’t want to hear a repeat of the accusations because it’s nauseating.
At the moment let’s see how we can deal with lifting the suspension imposed on the country by the ICC.
It is bad advertisement to be making headlines all over the world for the wrong reasons. Deal with this matter as a matter of urgency. The antagonising parties at ZC and SRC know exactly what to do. ICC were explicit in their conditions for the review of the sanctions on Zimbabwe.
Just imagine how many cricket careers will be shattered if you continue with you worthless egos? At least spare a thought for the guys that have been toiling day and night all these years to get Zimbabwe where we are in the world of cricket. Otherwise you don’t even know what it is like to bat or bowl.
As we speak, the women’s team who worked hard to get a place at ICC T20 World Cup Qualifier to be held in Scotland this month are no longer able to travel because of the ICC sanctions.
All of a sudden the dreams are gone, just like that?
At least let’s respect these girls. Are we not the same people who always speak about supporting the girl child? You should have seen their tears when they heard the depressing news.
The men’s team are also facing the same predicament. Please don’t let the situation get out of hand.
Don’t mortgage our dear game in your useless power contests. The game deserves much more than that. Zimbabwe deserves more.
We are sure you don’t want to be remembered by your progeny as the guys who presided over the death of cricket in Zimbabwe. You know who our ire is directed at —Tavengwa Mukuhlani and Gerald Mlotshwa.