‘I lost some of my teeth and was thoroughly beaten and escaped death by a whisker, thanks to my ancestors I survived. My son I participated in this war so that you can live freely, get educated and marry whoever you want. My desire is for you to study at the University of Zimbabwe .It was difficult to study there during the colonial era. Now you can go and study there, you are free my son all you want you can get in this country called Zimbabwe. That’s why I participated in the war. It was all for you my son, all for you’.
These were the words of my father back in 1995 when I was 4. His passion and love for Zimbabwe was really indescribable. He once told me how ecstatic he was when Zimbabwe celebrated its first independence on the 18th of April 1980. Pachikomo ndipo pako mwanangu ndoda kuti uzove gweta munyika yedu ino, nekunaka kwaita zvinhu uku ndoda uzobatsire mubudiriro yenyika. He bemoaned. (I would want you to read Law at the University of Zimbabwe my son and help in the development of this country). He used to tell me this almost every day when he gets home from work and I would smile at him seating on his lap. Unfortunately my father passed away in 1997 and he did not live to see me graduate from his favourite university. Though I graduated with honours in Sociology I feel like I made him dance, ululate and smile in his grave.
The Zimbabwe that my father was seeing is no more, His Zimbabwe contracted a virus the day it was born, only a few saw it and some instead of finding a cure acted blindly. From a bread basket of Africa to a basket case, surely this puts into reality an infamous visit to earth by hell. Instead of hell visiting the whole universe he found sanctuary in Zimbabwe. You do not need to be a holder of a doctorate to fully understand that everything about Zimbabwe is not right. Yes we pride ourselves of having an impressive education system, but, what’s the reason of churning out thousands of graduates every year when the industry cannot even absorb 100 of those as its labour force. Even a 1st grade pupil can tell you all that is wrong with Zimbabwe. And yet that pupil can still fail to tell you what’s good about it. I grew up being told that things were going to be good just hang on and today I am in my mid 20s but I still ask when it is going to be good. I graduated 2 years ago and cannot even get a meaningful job except some voluntary opportunities. This Zimbabwe yes I dare say it, is rotten to the core. May be if we stop to be defensive and accept reality maybe we can build a better Zimbabwe. When a person points out where you’re doing it wrong he is labelled a traitor and someone with a regime change agenda. Democracy from my own understanding allows any person to air their opinions freely without fear of being harassed or being labelled as traitors.
A water point (Chisipiti/spring), people in Old Tafara uses it for laundry, drinking, bathing and all that require water.
I do not even understand what has become of my beloved Zimbabwe, the land I call home; the mother that bore me and gave me life. Water scarcity has become a national anthem which citizens sing every day yet they do not enjoy it. In the suburb I am currently staying they last had running water in 2005. These people have become accustomed to clear and unclean water to the extent that they cannot distinguish between clean and clear water. For doing their laundry many people have resorted to using rivers which are also polluted with raw sewage. Bathing instead of being a necessity has become a luxury. And today I ask myself what my father would have been saying? Would he be saying that my son I was wrong please migrate to another country or just hang on it’s a process or he would have been ashamed of his beloved Zimbabwe. People in Zimbabwe are in urgent need of running water to do all the basics such as bathing and flushing the toilet. And I wonder when most Zimbabweans last flushed their toilets or they have resorted to flushing them manually. This however, is not the problem of the City Fathers of respective cities and towns but the blame rather solely lies on the government for failing to implement sound practical policies that give way to meaningful development. Surely hell has visited Zimbabwe and is even more furious than a scorned woman.
My heart wreathes in pain and I cannot bear this excruciating pain anymore, my tongue is heavy but I do not know how to speak of what I am seeing lest I suffer from the wrath of those destroying the nation. The hope my father had about Zimbabwe is fading swiftly, the future to today’s youth looks so bleak and our dreams are being brutally crushed every day. For how long are we going to wait for things to get better? The so many jobs that we were promised remain symbolic. This is not the Zimbabwe that my father suffered for, my father passed away with a bullet in his hip. Psychologically he was a wreck; it was during the night that he used to have nightmares of the past war. He participated in this war so that all Zimbabweans could enjoy life in their motherland regardless of race or tribe. However, it is quite the opposite of what he dreamed of. Graduates have been reduced to vendors and the nation itself has become a nation of vendors. When will it be better? When will I enjoy being Zimbabwean? As things stand the time seems to be far away. Surely hell is a brutal creature that has caused so much suffering to many Zimbabweans. I am tired of promises that never manifest into reality, I am tired of seeing same faces, faces of people who do not know what it is like to be poor, how it feels to go for days without eating food, to be sent back home because you have not paid school fees. I am indeed tired of politicians who do not care about the general populace. These people have visited earth with their scary fork now they’re tormenting all and sundry.
I have suffered for quite a long time, remaining numb is a sign of weakness. My armour and my weapon of mass destruction are my words. It is what I say and the necessary course of action that will determine my future and that of my fellow Zimbabweans. This is a time that requires people of natural and pure love for Zimbabwe to come together and work for the better of the nation. My fellow brothers need to be educated. Being parochial does not solve your problems rather making your voice heard is a solution. Words are dangerous than a nuclear bomb they unsettle and make the lazy work hard. However, it is how they are used that determines their effectiveness. Violence or taking up arms will never solve our problems yet we need to throng the streets and make our voices be heard. It is not a single individual who is a panacea to the problems we are facing today. Every Zimbabwean has a role to play. I am so much tired of bootlicking and glorification of a single individual as if he is the Messiah. Even Moses needed Aaron, Miriam and Joshua among others to lead the Children of Israel to the Promised Land. My fellow Zimbabweans each one of you is the Messiah and the Moses of today. You’re that Elijah that will part the waters of Jordan River if we are to enjoy and become witnesses to a better Zimbabwe.
This has been a year of learning (Gore rezvidzidzo) for many Zimbabweans world over. I do hope that we all have learned something and we are going to help develop Zimbabwe. The heat-wave experience has been a sign or a literal visit of hell on earth. To me the heat-wave experience shows how much we have suffered and are still suffering. For how long are we going to remain idle? I dare ask you. Why do you want to remain too docile to the yoke? I ask again. Open your eyes fellow citizens. Whilst you’re suffering they own large tracks of land, they have farms and they’re living large. They are eating the good food and yet you struggle even more to get the crumbs they give you. You are better than that. Let us make hell drink of his own medicine.
humphreychiranda 