I’ve just popped out to the Kamfinsa Shops. I’m pleased to say I made it there and back despite the potholes. Sadly this once thriving shopping centre is a shell of its former self. Shop owners have been forced to close their doors – either there’s nothing to sell, or people don’t have cash. The only activity I saw (if you can call queues active) were the milling masses waiting outside CABS building society in the hopeful hunt for cash. Another throng of people were gathered outside TM supermarket looking for a loaf.

I must confess that my Saturday morning shopping stint wasn’t in search of anything heart-stoppingly essential. I was after a bottle of wine for a Christmas party tonight. Of course this might not be a good idea on top of my margarita, voluptuous glass of wine and Irish coffee at last night’s party. Anyway, no big surprise, there wasn’t any wine and when I thought I’d settle for a Castle, a sign on the fridge informed me . . . no empty, no beer.

At the very least I’m trying to have fun which is a bit hard in a country with little to celebrate. Another way of getting a laugh is to read Zimbabwean newspapers and the advertisements therein. Today I was flipping through The Financial Gazette and an advert from a security company caught my eye. They were giving advice on how to stay safe over the “festive season”. Here’s some of what they had to say:

Mystery deaths in hotel rooms, drowning, car jacking and food poisoning are common during festive seasons. We encourage you to muster your protective sprouts from deep within by elevating your instinctive and intuitive minds to be the focal part of your correction.

One of Harare’s most exciting and outspoken poets is Comrade Fatso. If you’re in Harare then go along to the Mannenberg Jazz Club in Fife Avenue Shopping Centre on 1st December or if you’re in Johannesburg on the 8th December give him some support at Bassline and make some noise for freedom in Zimbabwe!

Visit Comrade Fatso’s web site

Here’s a taste:

The Word Is A Bird

Some say silence is golden
But silence is shit
‘Cause words can hit
But they can heal
They can liberate us from what we feel
‘Cause mazwi acho akasimba
Anogona kutibatsira kwatirikuenda
‘Cause words are warriors
And their great gifts are glorious
But politicians wanna sell us words that are worthless
Creating a populace that’s wordless
Throwing curse upon curse on the word’s carcass
But the word is a bird and birds fly regardless
Flying above the durawalls of their so-called silence
The word still heard above their virile violence
‘Cause you can bomb the word but you can’t keep it silent

(cc) Comrade Fatso 2007

I’m sitting at work on an overcast Harare Thursday morning drinking Brazilian coffee and eating South African Marie biscuits. My breakfast in a failed state. I liked the reference that Comrade Fatso made in one of his blogs calling Zimbabwean supermarkets “hardware stores” seeing as they’re just empty shelves. I mean I’d buy Zimbabwean coffee and biscuits if I could, but I can’t. It’s either imported, or nothing.

On Tuesday I went along to my favourite cafe called St Zita in Borrowdale Village to drink a flat white and do some work. They could only offer tea on account of a power failure (aka Mugabe’s mismanagement). The tea pot came without a lid. Apparently the lid had just been broken but one wonders whether they only have one tea pot in the entire establishment.

Tomorrow is the Million Man March which is meant to illustrate Zimbabweans support for the ruling party, Zanu PF. Free transport is being laid on and The Herald suggests that our capital city will see a convergence of Mugabe fans. Let’s see what happens.

Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the zeros
One currency following another
Laden with money counters and queues

Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the bearers
Millions turn overnight to billions
Blossoming even as Gono gazes

. . . with apologies to Fiddler on the Roof (the musical, not Gono)

I was at Harare International Airport yesterday. With Zambia Airways deciding to withdraw their services, our description of our airport being international is largely attributed to the fact that South African Airways and Kenya Airways still find it worthwhile flying into Zimbabwe. Anyway whilst I was waiting for my partner to come through customs I noticed this long queue of people trying to get into the airport. The crowd was being marshaled by the airport police. What were they after? Cash. Imagine that the desperation to get money makes you go to the airport to use a small banking agency in the arrivals hall.

Welcome to Zimbabwe, and please join a queue.

There was a time when returning friends and family would bring home luxuries. I got an email asking me if there were any last minute basics that I needed. These days basics mean items like toilet paper and toothpaste. I thought I’d chance my arm and say a peppermint aero which I got as well as some fabulous other bits and pieces to keep my pecker up. My partner tends to load her backpack as full as possible which makes her look like she’s about to topple backwards. Over correcting means that she looks like she’s praying which might be a good idea if you’re a returning resident.

Every year when the jacaranda trees in Zimbabwe are in lavender bloom, Gays and Lesbians of Zimbabwe (GALZ) stage the annual Jacaranda Queen Drag Pageant. A big pom pom to GALZ for opening the closet doors and letting out some provocative entertainment when all around us the social space for free expression is being constrained.

Click here for some more photographs of the fabulously sexy men who took part in this year’s event at the Harry Margolis Hall in Harare.