Last week I had the privilege to witness WOZA trying to hand over a petition to the management of the Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA) at their headquarters at Megawatt House on Samora Machel Avenue in Harare.

I say privilege because there are very few organisations, activists and members of the public in Zimbabwe who are brave enough to put themselves on the street and demand a better Zimbabwe, be that in the delivery of justice or basic services.

The gathering of WOZA men and women was peaceful, good humoured and vibrant. The crowd that came around to witness the proceedings all agreed that Zimbabweans are reeling under the utility charges and poor service that they are receiving. As one of our bloggers, Dydimus Zengenene, rightly points out this week, ZESA’s charges might be in line with regional tariffs but our salaries are woefully inadequate to cope with the demands being placed on us.

In the meantime the chefs of Zimbabwe, ranging from Mugabe, to the ZESA hierarchy itself, to the champions of the indigenisation bill, are all pretty comfortable in their plush homes lit by generators.

The leadership of WOZA were arrested and spent Independence weekend in jail. This is an OUTRAGE.

Zimbabwe must allow for peaceful protest – full stop.

You probably weren’t a part of the WOZA protest at ZESA last week but it’s pretty certain that you’re affected by poor service and high electricity charges.

So, here’s something you Can do . . .

Action: Email the ZESA public relations department and tell them that:

a)    ZESA management must lobby for the immediate release of the WOZA leadership

b)    ZESA management must meet with WOZA to listen to, and discuss the issues being raised by Zimbabweans

c)    ZESA management should issue an apology to WOZA for not welcoming them and hearing their concerns

Email: pr@zesa.co.zw

Mbizo Chirasha sent Kubatana some gut wrenching words to mark Zimbabwe’s independence. Have a read:

State of the Nation

dreams and thoughts floating in stinking
bubbling sewer streams
broken pipes
broken voters
broken ballots
broken roads

banks stink hunger
stomachs of dust laden kindas thunder war
poverty shriveled chests of mothers luggage sorrow baggage
sorrows blooming like flowers every season

mothers cutting the freedom cake
with aluminum tears foiled faces
children munching the FREEDOM
cream with poverty rugged
yellow maize teeth
fathers celebrating with election chopped arms

ministers mecerdes swimming in highway potholes
corruption, the vaseline that polishes the floor of the state
flowers of Justice died with last decade sinking sun
daughters eat political regalia like omelet for breakfast
sons eating torn diplomas and
soot laden certificates for supper

peasants eating the smell of the sun
voters enjoying the perfume of propaganda again
mentally sodomized
the scars of the last season
is the signature of the next election
wounds of last winter bloom another pain in this winter

diggers of the truth bring me jugs filled with lemon juice of justice
bring the ladder to the jewel laden bethel of freedom
i am drunk with barrels of orange bitterness

freedom is the placard on your chest?
democracy is how you shake your fist?

freedom sing me a song
erase these wounds from the charcoal of violence
machetes signatured leadership name tags on mother breasts
pink bras coughing blood beside dead ballot boxes
bullets wrote epitaphs for funerals of children unlimited
black cockerels drinking black eggs in dying winter nights
black nights
acid of politics bleaching the trust of the flag
colors melting in the vaseline of grief

bring me the sneeze of murenga
download the cough of nehanda from her chest
blow the wind into the ears of mutapa stone
silence went with them to sleep, away from today’s wind

wind of change changed its compass
barometers cant stand the pressure
godfathers breakfasted promises of change
bathing with some bath-soap in froth filled tubs of corruption

rise for me the sun, that i see the club mixed color of the east
sink the sun for me that i smell the smelling breath of the west.

paparazzi smiling to the bank after recycled headlines
i am tired of the rhetoric

sing me the song of self discovery
for my identity is beyond the lotion of my skin
my identity is beyond the paint of my eyeballs
and the vaseline on my tongue
it is beyond the state of the nation

the nation that i baptize in my poetic ritual cleansing

the moonrise with chopped breasts
the sun rise with scarred forehead
I am a poet born in grapevines of colonial bitterness
and groomed in apple groves of freedom hatred

liberation. what?

light me better candles for another poem
a poem with freedom rhythm
and liberation rhymes

that politicians will weep in the hovels of their slogan rituals
and voters hear the real jesuses of their stomachs
that fat cats decide to run or to dance
and big fish fried by the oil of metaphors

political ghosts turn in their graves
after a ritual of poetic grapes
the sweetness and bitterness of words
repent dictators into democrats

for the womb that carried this freedom griot
have eaten grains of sand for lunch in the villages of dust
that last smelt the state motorcade last ballot season

If you have spent any amount of time in Harare, you’ll know of a popular spot called Mai Faffy’s. Located in the heart of Avondale – at one of the city’s busiest shopping complexes – Mai Faffy’s serves some of the tastiest sadza and relish to be had in Harare.

And as with any place named in such affectionate terms, there is a story behind  Mai Faffy’s – a story  I recall Faffy herself telling me.

After a spell of giving birth to only baby boys, Faffy’s mother finally had a baby girl – a girl she named Tafadzwa.

Faffy was the term of endearment that the family used to call Tafadzwa and it stuck so hard that everyone called her Faffy from then onwards.

Even to the day she died.

Faffy died in a car accident last week Monday, on the 12th of April  – a needless loss at the young age of 24. She would have turned 25 in October.

I only learnt of her death last Thursday from her best friend who sent me an SMS to tell me the shocking news.

It’s still unbelievable.

You may not have known Faffy, but on behalf of all who did know her – and in particular her friends and family – there is need to remember this remarkable young woman who has left this earth too soon.

What do you say when someone so full of life and promise dies so prematurely? Where do you start?

I remember getting a call from Faffy the day before I left to relocate to South Africa in November last year.

Faffy called me early in the evening wanting to make a plan to go out as her farewell gift to me.

I told her that I had a heap of ironing to do and would have to think about it first. Her response was typical Faffy.

“Stuff the iron in your bag and get all that done when you get to SA!”

In her world, there was too much living to be done without having to worry about mundane chores. I obviously didn’t listen to her, but now I wish I had and had just seized the moment and added yet another memory to the collection of brief moments that I spent with her.

When I asked her best friend, who’s also called Tafadzwa, what she’d like me to share about Faffy, she gave me  a long list of things.

But perhaps the most striking thing she shared was the range of people who attended Faffy’s funeral this past Saturday to pay their final respects to her. The lady who sold tomatoes from the corner of the block where Faffy lived came. Her neighbour, who named her child in honour of Faffy for escorting her to hospital in the desperate final stages of labour, also came.

Her kindness and accommodation of all people was well known and celebrated by those who loved and appreciated her most as they bade her a fond farewell.

Tafadzwa and I wanted to let you know about our remarkable friend, about the girl who always made time to brighten someone’s day, about the girl behind Mai Faffy’s.

She will live on in the vibe and atmosphere of Mai Faffy’s, in the laughter and chatter of friends and strangers alike who gather there each and every day.

So long Faffy, and thank you for the memories of a life well lived.

I always read publications by organizations like Harare Residents Trust and Combined Harare Residents Association among others and feel proud of their work as voices of residents in Zimbabwe and feel encouraged by their effort in taking time to meet residents to solicit their views.  However there is one area which is not adequately covered by these constructive initiatives. I wonder if this place,  Ruwa, slightly above twenty kilometers to the east of Harare along Mutare road, has leaders and residents representatives at all?

Ruwa is one of the fastest growing catchment areas of the city of Harare. The area supplies labour mainly to Ruwa industries, Masasa industries well as the city centre. It comprises prominent places like Zimre Park, Windsor Park, Damafalls, and the core Ruwa which people refer to as the “location.”

The three major problems in Ruwa are water, transport and robbers.

Water

Ruwa has a permanent water problem despite having all the infrastructure in place. People usually find water from their taps a day or two before the billing date towards month end. In response to the problem a borehole was drilled in the southern part close to Better Days Shopping Centre but this borehole was last used in November before the onset of the rainy season. A supply of water comes from a pump close to Spur Shopping area. Residents are expected to fetch water from here after travelling distances more or less 2 to 3 kilometers. At the time of writing the pump is not operational as there is reported to be a fault for over a week now.

Owing to the difficulties in getting water, residents have resorted to digging wells in their own premises. These borehole sites are not properly surveyed and given the size of the stands, wells are by default too close to houses, some are even on the wrong side of houses risking the water being contaminated with sewage.  The water is not safe to drink at all. The wells cannot supply water all year round, and during the dry season, they run dry forcing everyone to go and queue for water by the tanks where water is pumped.

Transport

Residents in Ruwa are overcharged by commuters who charge them double fare during peak hours. Residents have tried to resist but they are now gradually giving in. At Fourth Street Bus Terminus, two Ruwa stations have sprouted. The one for those who can afford the double fare and the other for those who can afford the normal fare. For the love of money commuters prefer ferrying those who can afford more, leaving the poor majority stranded by the bus stop waiting for a few large buses which charge reasonable fares. In addition no commuter buses reach into places like Windsor Park. They drop people close to TM store where they have to walk up to about five kilometers to their homes.

Robbers

The whole way from Mabvuku turn off, to well after George Shopping Centre is unsafe for people after dark or towards sunset. Police have at one time camped at Zimre turnoff, where cases of murder are frequent. Now just their tent is left and the police are no more, yet the place remains as risky as before.

At the TM bus stop where people drop to get into Windsor Park, the road has become a hunting ground for merciless robbers who have no hesitation to take peoples’ lives for money. People have been robbed and killed at the place. It is public knowledge yet no action has been taken about it. Darkness remains a dangerous snare for Windsor residents who sometimes have to drop at Maha Shopping Centre to walk across industries for their safety yet increasing the length of the already long distance which they cover on foot.

Faced with these challenges, Ruwa residents are living in constant fear for their lives. Of late a young orphan girl was murdered in mysterious circumstances which the police are still investigating. There has been no media coverage and no talk about it as if it was normal. We call upon whoever has authority to look into this problem as a matter of urgency.

Urban people are leading rural lifestyles yet they pay urban rates and contribute to the urban economy.

Should we take the invitation of the North Koreans to camp in Zimbabwe as an insult? Should we forget that the military ‘strategies’ of the Koreans is what wiped out entire villages.

Who is my enemy here? Is it the Koreans who trained sadistic ‘soldiers in the art of killing and maiming. Or is it perhaps the Zimbabwe ‘government’ – read Zanu PF or better still read Robert Mugabe, who unleashed the violence to begin with.

What will happen if a Korean ever decides to ‘invest’ in Matabeleland? Will he suffer for the sins of his fathers? Or should a son suffer for the sins of his father. Who is my enemy here, the Koreans or Mugabe?

Is Roy Bennett an enemy of the black Zimbabwean? Is he answerable for the sins of his father who destroyed schools that were being  built for black children? Should David Coltart apologise for being in Smith’s police force?

It might seem as if I am asking silly questions, but these same questions and more will always be a stumbling block to a united Zimbabwe. If such a thing will ever exist. We should ask the difficult questions and get answers; satisfactory answers.

Are the Shona and the Ndebele enemies? Is an Ndebele guy who supports Dynamos a sellout? Is an Ndebele guy who marries a Shona woman a sellout? Should we look the other way and spit on the ground if someone addresses us in Shona in Matabeleland? Is there a Shona project to colonise Matabeleland and destroy the very core of Ndebele customs, languages and identity?

Who is my enemy? Is it the Shona policeman deployed in Tsholotsho or was he just deployed there? Is he part of the Shona supremacy movement, an agent, thoroughly briefed on how to go about creating the Republic of Mashonaland? Is the British journalist or human rights campaigner genuine or just here to make sure the British maintain their economic stronghold on Zimbabwe?

Is it as simple as Mugabe being a dictator and the whole charade being about unseating him? But he has killed less people now than he killed in Matabeleland in the eighties? Or is Ndebele blood a lighter shade of red than Shona blood?

I have done enough asking for today and I demand answers?

Who is my enemy?

There is a wide outcry that the charges of many service providers including the Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA) are unjustifiably high. Responding to public complaints and the issuance of yellow cards by WOZA in Bulawayo over the unfair charges, Mr. Ernest Machiya, of the Zimbabwe Electricity Transmission and Distribution Company (ZETDC), a subsidiary of ZESA, said the authority’s tariffs were justified as they were the lowest in the SADC region.

This is not a new statement, and it’s the only answer that the ZESA ever has. I am sure that the majority of people in Zimbabwe are civil servants taking home between 100 to 200 dollars a month. That person has school going children, who need fees, transport money and food. Power is not the only service to pay for. There is also water, rentals and other rates that are also charged at their own levels of madness. People’s earnings are far below regional levels. Food is very expensive given that we are living largely on imported products. Is there any justification to charge a regional tariff to people who are struggling well below the poverty datum line? Is there any justification to compare normal economies to an abnormal one such as ours. The little that we can afford to pay them has been turned into hefty salaries for themselves without improving the service delivery side. What should come first between awarding above average salaries and improving service delivery?

Despite poor a poor service characterised by severe power cuts, ZESA has no shame in billing its domestic customers amounts close to and above 1000 dollars a month. In some instances it is billing twice a month, a trend that has never been heard of in the history of this country.

During the past era, tuck-shop owners always raised their prices in response to an anticipated increase in supply of money maybe because salaries have been increased. That was simple supply and demand economics. Can ZESA tell us what it is responding to when charging USD2000 to someone with USD150 in his pocket, worse still without any proper supply of services?

Mr Machiya, can you suggest how you expect a headmaster at Mufakose High to pay you say 500 dollars a month only for your power and nothing more, let alone a widow in Budiriro? We encourage leaders of institutions like ZESA to desist from displaying such absurdity. We end up questioning your credentials as professionals and as leaders of socially responsible institutions. Our advice to you service providers is simple, “The issue is not about the regional level, it is about who your clients are and what they can afford.” For South Africans, power charges are a reasonable fraction of the an average person’s salary, the same can be said of Botswana, Mozambique and whichever regional country one can name. The same cannot be said of our dear Zimbabwe. Can you all join us in the campaign for decent salaries for everyone before charging high tariffs. It should be known to ZESA and other companies that the amounts which people are not paying does not constitute an asset in you balance sheet; it is by default bad debt as no one will ever afford to pay up even in a decade’s time.