One of these past few days I entered one of those high security buildings where they scan you with those metal detectors and things for security reasons. This is the process that follows immediately after signing your details in a visitors’ book and handing in your I.D, among other things. Whilst I was still at stage 1 (of filling in personal details), one white lady who had been behind me waltzed past the guards manning the inner entrance after enquiring which floor such and such an organization was. When it was my turn, the female guard quickly moved into place to start zapping me with the metal detector. Instinctively, I stepped back and demanded to know why she had not also zapped the white woman who had entered before me. With a puzzled (if not surprised) look, she just shrugged and without answering my question, told me she had to scan me for security reasons. I neatly refused although I had nothing to hide, and demanded free passage. What criteria did they use to decide who got subjected to that annoying and almost embarrassing ritual? I noticed I was slowly gathering a small crowd and felt I was also getting red in the face. But I was determined, and so were both guards. The male guard told me in my face I had a choice to either get searched or leave. I chose the latter, spun right round, demanded my I.D back and left a puzzled audience. My business there could wait.
My dad was telling me the other day that one afternoon at lunch, he and a fellow (white) workmate set out to hunt for sustenance around the shops. As they drove around town, the most they came across after almost half an hour of searching were a couple of Chelsea buns selling at $100 thousand each. Between them they needed at least ten, and that meant parting with 1 million bucks. They decided they’d rather forego lunch. As they drove back to work, my father spotted a hawker by the roadside and bought two packets of maputi from her; one for him and the other for his workmate. As the two stood outside the car and ate, they realized they had gathered around them a small crowd who were visibly shocked at the sight of a murungu (white man) eating maputi. Someone apparently shouted that: “Nzara yazotiyenzanisa manje baas.” Loosely translated to mean hunger has now made us equal. Apparently very fluent in Shona, my father’s workmate lashed out asking the man who had shouted what the kind of food anyone ate had to do with anything? Did the man think all Zimbabweans were only black? I thought those were good questions.
Then I was reading in the Independent about the few remaining white farmers who were recently served with eviction notices with a 90 day grace period to wrap up and vacate their properties. The farmers have appealed to the regional Southern Africa Development Community (SADC) Tribunal in an effort to stop government from illegally expropriating their properties. According to Vice President Joseph Msika, these few remaining are “remnants of die-hard unrepentant racists. These farmers have done their best to prevent agricultural production in many parts of the country; and have made a significant contribution to the country’s economic collapse.”Â I couldn’t help agreeing with Muckraker when he/she wrote: “â€¦primitive racism is now the official creed of Zanu PF.” Now before anyone starts labeling me an unpatriotic born-free who doesn’t understand the sovereignty our ancestors died for; will the real racists please stand up?