Zimbabwean roads are hellish dangerous, for many different reasons. Pot holes, lack of street lighting, motorcades, official and unofficial police roadblocks, non-working traffic lights and Drunken Driving. It doesn’t help the situation when Club Amnesia of Strathaven Shopping Centre advertises its club night with the slogan . . . Don’t think, drink.

Like a dog in the day
Like a dog in the night.
The main goal here is to score.
1, 2, 3 and maybe 4 more.

The art of mingling
Requires a little poison
Some liquid, some hash,
Some powder, some ash,
We really don’t care.
As long as it burns.

To lose sight of reality
We are drawn to noise.
Our senses crave release
The longing for touch increases
As our connection to love decreases.

Wasted energy
Wasted hope
Wasted dreams of the future
Wasted youth,
Better check yourself
Before you wreck yourself.

By Sanele Mpofu

Last week my neighbourhood experienced a massive electrical fault.  It was caused by a young man who was attempting to steal oil from a ZESA sub-station.  He got electrocuted in the process, was badly burnt and triggered an explosion that disrupted power supply to many homes.

I’m told that this chap was not more than 25 years in age and bizarrely, he only had one arm.  What could possibly lead a crippled person to do something that precarious, risking his remaining limbs and his whole life?  I know that there are millions in dire poverty in this country but it is only a few that would do something that dangerous.  I could only put it down to desperate times driven by the type of thoughtlessness that typifies youthfulness.

Apart from their rashness, youth are also known to be naively idealistic, wanting and claiming honesty, prone to personal selfishness and constantly questioning the status quo.  Used constructively, some of these attributes have seen youths all over the world revolutionise people’s thoughts, societal norms and entire systems of government.

And what of Zimbabwe’s young people?

History places them at the forefront of the fight against real and imagined colonial oppression. Modern policy states that our youth are the beneficiaries of the country’s wealth. Reality shows that this demographic has the highest prevalence of HIV/AIDS, unemployment and substance abuse.

So what is my point?  Zimbabwe’s youth are characteristically not much different from their peers around the world; so foolish acts (executed clumsily with one arm) can be expected.  However, whilst our youth brim with energy and potential, they lack outlets to constructively direct these.  And this is by no means a result of their doing.

The responsibility lies with their elders who have spread intergenerational infections, held onto power and position, unfairly distributed land and other resources.  The youth have been denied their chance to grow, to lead and to shine.  So yes, without opportunities, youth is wasted, and it is wasted by those who should have guarded the future.  And under these circumstances the young do what they do to earn a living and to keep themselves occupied.

This man sells bread at an open-air market. He sells sliced and unsliced bread wrapped in plastic by the loaf. He and another bread vendor complained that business was slow. Behind him is an assortment of second hand sports shoes sold by another vendor.

For those of us less than talented in the sporting arena, night golf is a welcome relief from critical eyes. If you’ve tried teeing off in broad daylight in front of the clubhouse, you’ll know what I mean. The pressure, your hands start to sweat, you mutter to yourself “head down, watch the ball, eyes ON the ball!” And then you keep looking over your shoulder as you do a semi-jog, as opposed to a full sprint or a walk – more conspicuous and involving greater hip movement – after your ball, hopefully down the fairway, but inevitably not.

I get totally put off by any sign of water. It doesn’t matter how near, how far, how off to the side, how small, I will find it or hit my ball in the entirely wrong direction JUST to avoid it. I also just dribble it off the tee box (thereby really falling short of the water).

Anyway, night golf is for those who don’t own golfing outfits to match their Callaways. You can encourage your caddy (it is best to pay for one if you don’t know the course – distance and direction becomes an issue even for the most geographically-savvy) to levy fines against you when you do something wrong. This includes hitting fresh air instead of the ball, what I call the “practice swing” (my son always blames on the wind, bless him), or landing in the water – lucky the balls glow.

Remember to get your cooler box from the bar. Each player gets a free six-pack to start (a word of advice, take an extra 2 per person and don’t forget your shooters for spot fines) and then merrily stumble and sing (and swing) your way round nine holes.

Normal golf rules apply. Treat the course, your surroundings and fellow players with due respect. And please pee before you start – white buttocks in the moonlight are made for target practice!

If you’re not much of a golfer, you might consider packing a towel and a change of clothes in case you have to go swimming to retrieve your ball. While eau-de-swamp seems to deter mosquitoes, it doesn’t do anything for the rest of us. And if you’re hoping to hit the town afterwards, and get lucky – make use of the club’s showers!

Next date for night golf at the Borrowdale Brooke is Friday 13 May. Come dressed ghoulish (or pay a fine) and book early – they are always over subscribed.

This homeless Zimbabwean man is rumoured to be insane and has lived in and around the Pomona area for several years. In his hands he holds a 750 000 Zimbabwe dollar note, last used in 2005. Although he keeps to himself and seldom speaks to anyone, both residents and vendors try to steer clear of him.