Will some people never understand that beside the horrific pictures of starving children, child soldiers, tribal wars, ripped and mutilated bodies laying on streets, Africa has smiling faces and is a peace loving continent? I was watching “How Not to Write About Africa” by Binyavanga Wainaina. To a large extent African literature is full of some of the elements that were highlighted in the video clip. The amount of stereotyping of the continent leaves one wondering whether the African continent has anything interesting to write home about besides wars, and jungle life associated with the famous “Big Five” wild animals. Africa has been largely portrayed as a place of “hand-outs”, and a “dumping ground” of cheap and inferior goods from developed countries. I believe this video partly addresses this disgusting phenomenon.

I have often heard people say, …”Time waits for no one … Time is money”.

These sayings have become part of our daily vocabulary. But do we really understand the real importance of time. The clock keeps ticking whether we are stagnant or moving. Unless, and until we realize the significance of time then only we will be able to embrace and cherish it. What is it that we do with our time? Is it worth every minute? Can we look back with no regrets of the time we spent in the wrong profession or the time spent achieving that which you were never passionate about, or the failed relationships? I always ask myself whether we can regard it as time wasted, or rather take it as a lesson learnt and then spend the remaining time amending our choices.  Every mother who gives birth to a premature baby knows the value of one month. The editor of a weekly magazine or a weekly newspaper knows the value of a week. The 15th of June made me realize the importance of one day. I cherish the importance of an hour especially when I have a rendezvous with a loved one. Being left behind by City Link coach will make you realize the importance of one minute. Cherish every moment in life, and better still, with those we love. Time is important in every aspect of our lives. Let’s not waste it but use it wisely and to the fullest. confusion once again.

Yesterday, taking a friend to the airport, we were traveling along Borrowdale Road which turns into 7th Street and where you come upon State House and where you find soldiers dressed in full battlefield regalia and wielding guns with bayonets. Many Zimbabweans hold their breath while passing State House – you don’t want your car to break down, get a flat or get in an accident. Because if you do – yeah, and its All Your Fault – the army boys will smack you black and blue. Anyway, back to the beginning. Yesterday traffic had backed up in the left lane and those of us in the car wondered what was going on. A kombi driver and his mate, in a sweat of panic, were pushing their taxi backwards down Borrowdale Road. To avoid being beaten.

When some people say Zimbabwe is a lawless country, buffoons imagine it to mean warlords roaming the streets a la Siad Barre’s Mogadishu. Because white farmers are no longer being killed on farms, oh well, you see we are a law abiding lot. My ass! You only need the very bad example of belligerent and fictitious veterans of the liberation struggle and how they have been left by the law enforcement agents to run riot and threaten the life and limb of poor Tendai Biti.

Surely if anyone besieged any brazenly incompetent Zanu PF minister’s office we all know they would get the baton stick and tear smoke treatment and as many a dare devil activist knows – including lawyers by the way – blissless nights await them at Matapi and Khami. Hey, these scoundrels are threatening the life of an elected government official. It could still be disgruntled small-scale farmers bum-rushing the offices of the unelected Joseph Made rightfully demanding that the GMB pays them seasons-old debts! He would still get protection. You see, thence the law ain’t choosy, only the colours. Talk about a blind ass!

But then I feel silly saying it because everyone knows this. That’s where the lawlessness comes in. If there was respect for the rule of law, the hooliganism of these broke-ass louts would have been dealt with already. The rather eerie thing for me is that it usually takes one moron who has given up on looking for a job but firmly believes Biti is “refusing with our money” to throw a fist, a Molotov, a brick at the FinMin before everybody wakes up to the actions of these lawless and dangerous elements. Only then will Zanu PF start disowning them.

The irony is that each time some whacky outfits come out claiming mayhem in the name of Zanu PF, Secretary for Administration Didymus Mutasa, spokesperson Rugare Gumbo are ever as quick as an MDC supporter escaping Zanu PF midnight marauders that these Chipangano clones are not from the Zanu PF family of law-abiding Zimbabweans. But not when the vets physically accost a government minister! (Not vets as in veterinarians, someone said the behaviour of the veterans borders on the illiterate, so you have to juxtapose that with an illiterate veterinarian before you confuse the two “vets”! ) So what happened to the special protection unit for ministers if there ever was such a thing?

And I can already imagine them frothing in the mouth reading this – and their response to this blog? “We will beat the crap out of this guy.” I am laughing already.

Walk through the footpaths of Bulawayo townships where a little shrubbery still survives and you are met by a chorus of flies having what must be an unending Christmas. Crap all over as open latrines flourish, and you see, indeed smell, how the water crisis has turned shitting into a very public affair.

When you see a well-dressed  dandy disappearing into the bush, be warned: he is taking a nature walk of a turd kind!