When any section of the Zimbabwe civil service goes on strike, the usual retort from the long-suffering public is:  “How do you tell the difference?” A year after the heady inauguration of the country’s power-sharing government between autocratic President Robert Mugabe, 85, and his former opposition opponent, Prime Minister Morgan Tsvangirai, Zimbabweans want to know: “How do you tell the difference? (between this government and Mugabe’s previous regime).” – Comment from Sapa

Raymond Majongwe, head of the Progressive Teachers Union of Zimbabwe clearly has the right idea when he says that the striking civil servants should not return to work and that the government should “sell diamonds and we share that wealth instead of it being enjoyed by few individuals.” It is completely unacceptable that members of Zanu PF and the MDC exploit the resources of Zimbabwe whilst citizens struggle to survive on the crumbs that are thrown to them from the chefs tables.

Monocle Magazine describes itself as a briefing on global affairs, business, culture and design. It’s one of the most interesting reads that I’ve come across. In the February issue Steve Bloomfield interviews Tendai Biti – “Mister Fix-it” as described by Monocle.

In the interview Tendai likens repairing Zimbabwe’s economic ruin to “drowning in a sewer” but remains “confident that he can make a difference”.

A few of Tendai’s responses are a bit curious . . .

Monocle: What’s your relationship with President Mugabe like? Do you work closely with him?
Tendai Biti: He’s the President of the country so on key issues you have to go to him. I’m fixing his mess. I’ve no problem with him. I find him very receptive. He listens. We debate. He has got a mind. It’s refreshing to go there and argue a case. He is open to persuasion.

[ Hmmm. I wonder why there's still such a stalemate then? ]

Monocle: How much are you paid?
Tendai Biti: It was US$100 [a month] until June. I think it’s now . . . [he turns to his permanent secretary]. How much do you give me? US$150. I’m eating into my savings from 18 years as a lawyer.

[ Yeah right. And how big is your expense account Tendai? ]

The constant hoopla around Zuma’s polygamy really is getting exhausting; with journos shifting attention to what he is up to each time they are suffering the diary draught. It has become nothing short of selling tabloid headlines. Can’t they get it through their thick heads? The man said it loud and clear – much to the indignation of feminists and gender activists – it is his (Zulu) culture, and the problem with most of us is indeed “thinking that our cultures are far more superior to those of others”. What Zuma is doing is to be expected, those are some of the hazards of having a clown for a president.

My bone of contention is; are the women involved in all this being oppressed? Have any of them been forced into marriage by this lunatic? Are not the majority of them young, pretty and educated but found jostling amongst themselves to be the next best lady? Do they not make public appearances next to the imposing Zulu President all smiley and beaming with self-importance and contentment?  Why are they being made to look like the victims? I mean so what if he has just fathered his 20th child and married his umpteenth wife? Though old-fashioned, the man can afford it for Pete’s sake and it is clearly not illegal in his country? In any case, those children are lucky at all to be born of the President of the most powerful country in Sub Saharan Africa.

I agree the man has a strangely colossal libido, is possibly a paraphiliac, a fool and whatever else the media choose to label him, but I think the fascination with Zuma’s polygamy deserves nothing more than the attention of National Geographic to ‘Africa’s Strangest’. The media are having a field day and the feminists have developed a serious bone to chew, yet the Swazi King Mswati leaves the most polygamous green with envy and for him, marrying is an annual exploit. His father before him had 70 wives by the time of his death too.

If anything, the only sad thing I find about Zuma’s actions is the fact that he claims he loves all his women equally. I feel a certain amount of pity for his first wife, the rotund (read solid) MaKhumalo – who clearly looked unhappy alongside her husband during his inauguration as President of South Africa. It is common knowledge that this woman rarely appears in public, let alone at the arm of her husband. One could almost guess what was going through her mind – probably that her being taken along for this auspicious occasion was just for show: Zuma, the family man who respects his first wife. God only knows he would have preferred to make that grand appearance with one of the younger ‘trophies’ as the young men here would say it.

This – my colleagues is the battle of the ” Desperate First Wives”, and they are all vying for the title of first lady. From the South African Foreign Affairs Minister Nkosazana Dlamini Zuma to the youngest (and currently prettiest) wife Nompumelelo Ntuli, I can tell you, none of then went kicking and screaming to their Umshado wesiZulu (Zulu wedding). New word on the street has it that Zuma has impreganted another youngling, and she is none other than businessman Irvin Khoza’s daughter! I daresay the media spotlight must beam on these women; they are the bigger fools for embarrassing themselves and allowing themselves to be treated in this way. Who are they, what makes them tick, what made powerful people like themselves fall for this man? Just what was it for each one of them – wealth, fame? Trust me; that would make interesting reading and ‘news’ for a change.

The way Investigative Zim sees it is that; either South Africa is reinventing the concept of political morality and public responsibility among its leaders, or something is seriously wrong with the presidency and the nation just hasn’t woken up to it yet. I shant say more.

The postal service attached a short note to a parcel that we got in the post recently. They apologised for the “dirty state” of the envelope being delivered to us. Inside was the much awaited book, SMS Uprising: Mobile Activism in Africa published by Pambazuka Press. Never mind the fact that our copy is a bit buckled and battered it makes for an incredibly interesting read and not just because Kubatana and our very own Amanda Atwood is featured in it! Sokari Ekine has done a fabulous job editing a series of essays on mobile activism and we urge you to get a copy.

Anne Perkins writing on guardian.co.uk described SMS Uprising as a “book that will help explain how mobile phones can be used in the field to anyone daunted by technology.” She went on to say that “theory is one thing: but where these essays really come alive is in the descriptions of projects that have already worked.” And she cites Kubatana as an example of one of these projects.

Read more here

On Kubatana’s home page we feature an article entitled Conversations with Christopher Mlalazi. Christopher is a talented Zimbabwean writer and theatre producer. We’ve just had word from him that one of his plays will be featured in this year’s Harare International Festival of the Arts (HIFA). Here is some news from Christopher and a teaser from the play called Election Day.

I have just returned from the Harare International Festival Of The Arts workshops on writing and directing for theatre, where I developed one of my plays titled ELECTION DAY, which will be premiered at HIFA 2010 (April), under the HIFA-DIRECT project.  The play is going to be directed by Eunice Tava, a seasoned actress and director.  The cast is still yet to be selected, but that is Eunice’s baby.  The play ELECTION DAY is an adaption of one of my short stories which was first published in the 2004 Edinburgh Review, and then was later published in my short story collection DANCING WITH LFE; TALES FROM THE TOWNSHIP, which won the 2009 NAMA AWARD for BEST FIRST PUBLISHED CREATIVE WORK, and was also given the Honourable Mention in the 2009 NOMA AWARD FOR BOOK PUBLISHING IN AFRICA.  Please find below a teaser from the play, and if you can, please come to HIFA 2010 to watch it. We are also looking for opportunity to show the play around the world after HIFA, and if you think you can link us, please be welcome.

ELECTION DAY

Scene 1

Enter the Director Of Vote Counting, Juda.  He is dressed in a suit and is entering a toilet.  He is also holding a clipboard with papers on it. He goes to the urinary, and pees with his back to the audience.  As he is peeing, enter Twenty walking stealthily and casting looks over his shoulder.  He is also dressed in suit and tie.  He comes to a stop beside Juda. Twenty is not peeing but is standing facing the audience.

Twenty:           How goes it now?

Juda:               It is even worse now Twenty.

Juda stops peeing, closes his zip and turns around to face Twenty.  He quickly writes on a piece of paper and hands the paper to Twenty.  Twenty quickly looks at the paper.

Twenty:           O God no!

Juda:               And don’t say you got that from me, this is highly confidential information.

Twenty:           I won’t Juda, and thanks.

Twenty takes some money from his pocket and hands it to Juda.  Juda quickly takes the money and puts it into his pocket.

Juda:               The paper too, if it falls into the wrong hands I might get into serious trouble.

Twenty:           Of course Juda.  Of course.

Twenty hands the paper back, Juda salutes Twenty, then both men exit in different directions.  Twenty’s walk is dejected.

Scene 2

A stage with two sofas and a side table with a telephone on it.  Enter His Excellency, Poka Oka Ndiseng.  An elderly man in his sixties, he is dressed in a jogger short, old fashioned vest, and carries a golf club.  He heads for the telephone, takes it and quickly dials.

Ndiseng :        ( Into the telephone) Twenty?  Can I please see you, thank you.

Enter Twenty, still in suit and tie. He is Ndiseng’s personal advisor.   He bows before  Ndiseng.

Twenty:           Your Excellency.

Ndiseng:         (Pointing at one of the sofa’s)  You may sit.

Twenty sits down on the sofa, but on the edge.  His right foot is beating a rapid tattoo on the floor. Ndiseng looks at this foot.

Ndiseng:         Relax, Twenty.

Twenty’s foot stops tapping, and he wipes his forehead with a hanky.

Twenty:           Mmh!

Ndiseng:         Just relax, Twenty. And why do you look as if somebody has just walked over your grave? Just look at you!

Twenty:           Your Excellency. Things are very bad outside,

Ndiseng:         (Points a warning finger at Twenty) Eh! Eh! Eh! What am I always telling you Twenty?

Twenty:           But this is the truth your Excellency!

Ndiseng:         Please don’t exaggerate.

Twenty:           I am not exaggerating!

Ndiseng:         Do you know your problem my dear comrade? You panic very easily Twenty, just like a cowardly dog. (Ndiseng mimes action of a dog barking) WOOF! WOOF! WOOF behind a fence, and if you pretend to pick up a stone it flees away with its tail tucked between its legs.  I don’t need women around me Twenty. I need men with balls of steel.

Twenty:           I am not panicking your Excellency, Comrade Ndiseng.

Twenty wipes his forehead with his hanky again.

Ndiseng:         Then why are you are sweating like that? Or maybe you have forgotten yourself and you think state house is a bush in the rural areas and you are squatting behind it defecating?

Twenty:           The ballot counting is almost finished your Excellency, there are only five ballot boxes left uncounted, and the opposition is leading us by a very wide margin.

Ndiseng:         Is that so?  Of course I didn’t know that. And thanks for the information. If you are telling the truth, then we must clap hands for them.

(He leans the golf club against the sofa and claps his hands, a wide grin on his face)

They really are trying aren’t they?  Bravo!

(He claps his hands again.)

And by how many voters are they leading us now, Twenty?

Twenty:           Three million votes so far your Excellency, and the remaining five ballot boxes only contain one million.  We have lost.  Everything is crashing down on us!

Ndiseng:         (Bursts out laughing) Ha! Ha!  Ha!

(Still laughing, he points a finger at Twenty)

And you are now shitting in your underwear!

(Makes noise of farting)

Bhu!

(He laughs again, then smiles)

Stop being paranoid my dear personal advisor.

(His voice hardens)

And to use your own words – it is you who will crash out of my elite team if you do not show strength.  Anyway, why should you be frightened of the election results if I may ask?  After all, it is not you who is losing, but me, Cyclone Ndiseng, to use my favourite guerrilla name.

(pause)

Or is it because you see your meal ticket vanishing should that happen?

Twenty:           It is not like that your Excellency -!

Ndiseng:         Let me tell you something for nothing Twenty.  This is not a children’s game we are playing here.  This is not dance around together in a sally weather tissue tissue we all fall down.

(He swings his hands in mime of a children’s dance as he says this)

It is a game of heroes.  Men who are larger than life.  Now, tell me my terrified friend, did you read comic books when you were growing `up?

Twenty:           (Perking up)Yes I read them your Excellency. Kid Colt, Spiderman, Superman, Tin Tin)

Ndiseng waves his hand at Twenty in dismissal

Ndiseng:         No, not that crap.  There is another one that you have left out.  My favourite.

Twenty:           You mean Wonder Woman?

Ndiseng:         No, not that lesbian.

(He suddenly flexes his muscles, his face twists in effort)

The Incredible Hulk!  You!

Twenty:           (Smiling)  The Incredible Hulk!  I love that one!  He is my hero!

Ndiseng:         I am the new Incredible Hulk of this continent Twenty.

(He whispers to Twenty, his face screwed up in excitement, and his fists bunched)

And do you know why?

Twenty:           (Shaking his head and whispering also) Why, your Excellency?

Ndiseng:         Because I am going to be the first president of the United States Of Africa of course!  And that day is around the corner.  Just mark my words.

He suddenly flexes his muscles, and roars like Hulk.

Ndiseng:         The Incredible Hulk!

He roars like Hulk again, grabs Twenty and trips him to the ground.  Twenty rises up, exhibiting signs of fear.  Ndiseng roars, grabs Twenty and trips him to the ground again.  Twenty lies on the ground, and Ndiseng struts around the stage roaring like The Incredible Hulk, and flexing his arm muscles.  He goes back to Twenty, who still lies on the ground.  Twenty cringes back in fear.

Ndiseng.         (Offering Twenty his hand and laughing) Get up Comrade Minister!  Get up! Woooo! You look so undignified lying on the floor like that.

Twenty:           I am scared of  Hulk, your Excellency.  He is so powerful!

Twenty takes the offered hand and rises to his feet.  He brushes himself down, then sits down on the sofa again..

Ndiseng:         That is the lesson Twenty. Never worry, nobody can defeat the Incredible Poka Oka Ndiseng, blood descendant of the great King Oka Ndiseng 1, slayer of lions, conqueror of mountains, who smiled and the moon melted and beautiful maidens swooned.  Who can defeat such a man Twenty?  They can’t, not even with all the assistance of their fucking Nagasaki bomb, but, this is not what I called you in here for.

Twenty:           Yes your Excellency.

Ndiseng:         I want you to go and write a speech for me.