From Poetry International, and the poet Jackie Kay:

Somebody Else

If I was not myself, I would be somebody else.
But actually I am somebody else.
I have been somebody else all my life.

It’s no laughing matter going about the place
all the time being somebody else:
people mistake you; you mistake yourself

What nonsense is this? Is the MDC inflating their numbers, or is MT going the same way as Mugabe?  The man was just returning from holiday for goodness sake. Just now there won’t be a plane big enough for his ego:

On arrival at Harare International Airport on Tuesday, President Tsvangirai was met by hundreds of senior party officials and members. (MDC press statement)

Duze massages his backside. He is not the autoerotic type, neither is he scratching burning buttocks trapped in tight denims under the cruel scorching African under. This is summer, a very hot Zimbabwean summer, and many look up to the heavens to open and weep as their only consolation that they will perhaps not only cool off and escape the heat, but also be able to grow their own food. With a smug look on his face, it is obvious that here is one young man with money in his pocket. Duze again massages his backside. He is happy feeling the bulge on his back pocket. His wallet is stacked with crisp hundred 100 Rand bills. Many of his peers are struggling to get five Rand yet here he is strutting about in the city centre without a care in the world feeling like a million bucks.

Duze has just arrived from South Africa where he has been working in the past year, and it feels great being back home with the kind of money he has and he can’t wait to spoil himself silly. He stops at a city pub, one of many that have sprouted in virtually every corner after the citizens of this land began using currencies of other countries. He has on his mind a few choice beers that he saw and sipped with gusto in South Africa, only to be told by lads who know the hard times back home he was wasting his hard earned cash on bourgeoisie intoxicants. No one would ask or bother him in Bulawayo where boys coming back from Jozi are expected to be loaded. He makes himself comfortable at the sports bar as he watches English soccer from a giant television screen. He takes in the ambience and notices this is the place to be: young men speak at the top of their voices with unbridled confidence as they take into their system what many here consider expensive beer. Already, Duze feels he belongs. He has one, then another, then another. Damn the ice cold frothing Heineken is just what Bacchus ordered. In a while Duze feels his head getting woozy: he is glad he is not wasting his money drinking beer that would not get him drunk. He feels he could do with some fresh air and decides to have a walkabout checking out the places he had not visited in a long time. He walks down town where he sees gigantic men speaking with funny accents and he guesses they must be Nigerian as he has seen many speaking like them in down town Jo’burg. He sees Chinese shops at every turn and women clad in flowing all-white robes flocking into the shops to make bulk purchases. The women sell these wares just around the corner at inflated prices, and unknowing cash-strapped customers jostle for the “bargains.”

“Zhing zhong!” Duze curses as he walks past the Chinese shop.

Three men are lazily standing by the side of the shop’s door. They apparently have nothing to do but watch these women go in and out of the shop and watch cars wheeze by and chat idly about what they would do with the money if a Nigerian or Chinese businessman offered them part time jobs. As what? This is the state of things where grown men leave their homes and spend time in the CBD watching other people spend money. Some scratch their heads for answers while others scratch lotto tickets, but still none of them win.

But not these men it turns out.

“What did you say?” one of the men says, and the question is directed at Duze.

“Zhing zhong,” Duze repeats as he continues walking. The man’s feelings are injured.

“Hey stop there,” he says as he fumbles for something in his back pocket, his colleagues are by his side but are yet to pick what the hell their mate is getting all excited about.

“How dare you mock our investors!” the man says as he grabs Duze by the belt.

The tipsy Duze violently shoves the man with his elbow, and the elbow lands right in the nose of the man who turns out to be a cop in plain clothes.

“Did you not hear him say ‘Zhing-zhong’,” the diligent cop says to his colleagues, “now he is resisting arrest and assaulting me,” he continues as he massages his injured nose.

“What?” Duze yells.

In solidarity with their comrade who is now massaging his stinging nose, the other two men who also turn out to be cops wrestle with Duze as they cuff him. Duze is clueless what is happening, and before he knows it a crowd is swelling around him to watch the free show. What humiliation for an injiva who wanted nothing but spend his money on himself!

“What’s going on? I didn’t know saying Zhing-zhong is a crime,” he pleads in a South African accent.

“It is and so is assaulting a police officer. You boys go to South Africa then come here and think you are above the law?” one of the men says, and the crowd appears to enjoy the fact that it is an injiva being arrested but they do not dare ask arrested for what.

Duze is sent to the police station where he is ordered to pay an admission of guilt fine and released after a stern warning that you don’t make fun of the Chinese as they are friends of the president. The assault of a cop is not mentioned, but Duze has already made up his mind that he is returning to Johannesburg that very day. He is however grateful the cops did not go through his pockets as they would have found cash worth more than a year of their salaries! So much for coming home to spend your money, the young patriot curses.

I was listening to the radio in the morning in the kombi I was in, from home to town. The radio was tuned into Power FM where Bridget Gavanga (‘Bubbling B’) and Dr Zobha were on the morning show. Just before the 8 o’clock news Bridget hit us with some interesting news. She said that a Russian Orthodox Church had said that Russian women dress like strippers because they wear ‘figure-hugging outfits and full-on makeup’, and those who drink and wear mini skirts are to be blamed if they are raped. To cap it all she carried on to say that those who dress provocatively can’t find decent husbands! Read the story here.

Before Bridget could even finish reading this she was receiving some remarks from her co-DJ Dr Zobha. People in the kombi also started to comment. Dr Zobha asked an interesting question, “Akazviona kupi?” (“Where did the Orthodox see this?”). Which she chose to ignore. The story swiftly shifted to focus on Zimbabwean women. All the female people in the kombi kept quiet including myself.

One gentlemen noted that some women wear very short skirts and dresses, such that when they are asked to bend to pick up something, the skirt will ride down to the waistline and their under garments will be revealed. (“Ukati munhu akotame anonge pepa pasi, ka skirt kaya kanoenda kumusuna pantie rongosara rakadongorera”). All the men did have a laugh. It was quite sad that I went mute. I belong to the school of thought that believes one should wear what they feel most comfortable in, period. But all that I know of ‘body politics’ just ran out and I kept listening. Another man pointed out in the kombis as a female passenger is drooping off, you find them trying by all means to pull down their tops to cover their backs which tend to be revealed as one bends to get out of the kombi.

But the Orthodox did condemn men too. Those who wear ‘shorts in the city or team tracksuit bottoms with flip-flops’ but no one said a word about this. The whole conversation focused on how women dress.

Now I was wondering and asking myself, why were I and all the other ladies quiet? Is it because it’s the truth?

Victor Kunonga invites Sam Mataure & Enock Piroro

Victor Kunonga, the legendary afro jazz maestro calls on his highly gifted friends and jazz spitfires – Sam Mataure (drums) and Enock Piroro (bass guitar) for an enthralling afro Jam session, packed with the unexpected.

Bring your dancing shoes!

Alliance Francaise, 328 Herbert Chitepo Avenue, Harare
Friday 21 January 2011
8pm till late.
CC: $10
For more information contact: Tsungi Zvobgo on 0774 433 209 or email tsungiz [at] gmail [dot] com

Below is an excerpt from a recently published Pastoral Letter from the Zimbabwe Catholic Bishops’ Conference:

We urge our political leaders to:

i) Prioritize poverty eradication by using proceeds from natural resources like diamonds, land, etc., for the development of the whole nation and all its citizens. In its final message, the Second Special Assembly for Africa of the Synod of Bishops noted that Africa is rich in human and natural resources but ‘many of our people are still left to wallow in poverty and misery, wars and conflicts, crisis and chaos. These are very rarely caused by natural disasters. They are largely due to human decisions and activities by people who have no regard for the common good … .’
(No. 5).

ii) Stop the active and tacit collusion of those undermining the fight against corruption. Corruption is a cancer destroying our nation.

iii) Prosecute wrong doers and widely publicize any disciplinary action so that no one is seen to commit crime with impunity.

iv) Desist from intimidating and mistreating members of the public, the media, civic communities, etc. Uphold human rights.

v) Uniformed forces should maintain peace and security for all citizens at all times and especially before, during and after elections, and do so impartially.

vi) We implore our political leadership in the coalition government to reflect deeply on the timing of elections bearing in mind the unhealed state of the nation and the fragile state of the economy. They shoulder a heavy responsibility to serve and save Zimbabwe. They must think and act in pursuit of the Common Good. In the event of elections, implement the SADC guidelines in full.

vii) We expect our members of Parliament to make an effort to spearhead the mitigation of the pressing needs of the people they represent and desist from being preoccupied with enriching themselves.