Dear comrades, ZANU PF pretenders, and long-suffering countrymen, allow me, your eternal liberator from beyond the grave, to briefly resurrect and impart some wisdom on the unfolding drama in the land I once ruled with an iron fist and a touch of flair.

The week ended with a stark reminder of our mortality as one of my deputies, the dearly departed Phelekezela Mphoko, bid farewell to this mortal realm.

Soon, his spirit will join me in this ethereal space, where we shall have much to discuss, perhaps over a ghostly bottle of Glenlivet.

Now, I see Ruka Chivende wasted no time sending his crocodile tears condolences to the Mphoko family and hastily conferring him National Hero status.

The irony? The same men who vilified him in life now honor him in death.

But such is the hypocrisy of our times.

During that infamous “military-assisted transition”or as I prefer to call it, “Operation Restore Nothing” Mphoko, the “loyal one,” stood by my side.

For the sake of clarity, I’ll refer to him as the “loyal one” and the other one, that snake, as “Ungrateful Chivende.”

In the spirit of “do not speak ill of the dead,” let us conveniently forget some of Mphoko’s more colorful escapades.

Forget that he camped out in a Presidential suite for 613 days, feasting on taxpayer dollars like a king without a throne.

Forget that he stormed a Harare police station demanding the release of his cronies, loyalty knows no bounds, does it?

Let us remember instead how he stood by Dr. Amai, the indefatigable Grace Mugabe, in her noble yet ill-fated campaign to ascend the throne.

Revolutionary ethos? Pfft. He cast them aside to secure his personal interests.

Unlike Ungrateful Chivende, who sharpened his daggers and bided his time to betray me, the loyal one was content with whatever crumbs fell from my table.

Ah, but even loyalty has its limits.

Let us also conveniently forget how Mphoko fled anti-corruption officers at a police station, turning himself into a fugitive.

Death, it seems, is the ultimate equalizer. Even the “loyal one” must now exchange his Presidential suite for a six-foot plot.

A Scandal in the Family

While we mourn, I hear troubling whispers from beyond the grave of a scandal involving my beloved namesake, Robert Junior. Yes, my dear boy has sullied the family name, starring in a tawdry amateur production with two slay queens.

Ah, young Robert! It seems you inherited more than just my name—you’ve also inherited certain tactics. I hear some are impressed with your, shall we say, natural endowments.

But shame on you, boy! This is what happens when you spoil a child to the point where they believe their father owns a country.

Ngoma Ndiyo Ndiyo

As we enter the festive season, let us also prepare for a season of mourning,for competence, for integrity, and for Ungrateful Chivende’s mythical plan to save the nation.

As we say, ngoma ndiyo ndiyo, (the same tired tune plays on).

But fear not, my people. From beyond the grave, I shall continue to observe and occasionally share my insights.

Until next time, Asante Sana!