Fellow countrymen, compatriots, and ZANU PF elites, it is that time again I rise from the grave to share my unparalleled political wisdom and insights.

But before I dissect the week’s political comedy, let me begin with some house affairs.

First, a warm belated happy birthday to my dear Grace, the only First Lady to ever master Gucci diplomacy.

My people while I’m at it, let me warn Sulumani Chimbetu — my dear boy, if you so much as blink suggestively in the direction of Grace again, I will rise properly this time, not just for column duty.

Even in the afterlife, I remain the only father of our three children.

My boys don’t need a stepfather, they need a mentor, not serenades.

*Garwe Plays a Broken Record — and Calls It Policy*

Now, onto the living and their never-ending circus.

Let’s start with Daniel Garwe, the minister of local government who seems to believe repeating failed bans is a sign of strength.

He’s announced — again — that night vending is illegal. I had to check if my bones were echoing.

The same Garwe who banned vendors in March is back, shouting the same tired threats like a broken record.

My government, for all its many misunderstood policies, at least understood one thing — when the formal sector fails, the informal must breathe.

I didn’t chase vendors off the streets and then pretend it was for public health.

Please! I knew even civil servants were moonlighting at Mbare to feed their kids.

This new regime, however, expects people to pay tax, then criminalises their survival.

No jobs, no money, and now no vending?


And you want to threaten people with the “full wrath of the law”?

Wrath doesn’t pay rent, Daniel. It doesn’t put meat on sadza.

Stop gambling with people’s lives.

They’re not poker chips in your ministry casino.

*Unmasking Chamisa’s False Promises of Fire That Faded Into Fog*

Now, to the prince of riddles himself — Nelson Chamisa.

Young man, I had such hope in you. When I refused to endorse Emmerson (Mnangagwa) in 2018, I thought I was handing over the torch to Zimbabwe’s Obama.

But instead of fire, I got fog.

You’ve turned politics into Sunday school motivational preaching.

Every week it’s “God is in it,” “Watch this space,” “The best is coming.”

Coming where? On a donkey?

We don’t need parables.

We need plans. People are hungry, Chamisa. 

You can’t baptize your silence with Bible verses.

Be a leader, not a lifestyle brand.

This is not a YouTube channel; it’s a nation. I regret giving you even a ghost endorsement.

*Tagwirei’s Tango Fuels A Coup In a Suit*

My people and now to the most delicious saga — the Kudakwashe Tagwirei tango.

Ah, comrade Patrick Chinamasa, you tried your best to sound authoritative, but this whole central committee thing smells like a coup in a business suit.

So, Tagwirei is now ZANU PF royalty? And Chiwenga is just supposed to smile while the man who used to fuel his convoy now fuels the entire succession plan?

Let me tell you something from someone who knows.

When patronage and the military fight, don’t bet against the barracks.

They removed me with a tank and a press conference.

You think they’ll hesitate with Tagwirei just because he owns half of Zimbabwe’s diesel?

This isn’t just about the central committee — it’s about 2028.

Mnangagwa wants to retire as the kingmaker, and Tagwirei is the pawn he thinks can crown him king from the shadows.

But history, my dear Mnangagwa, has taught us — the military always eats last… and they always eat big.

So here we are.

Vendors being chased by clueless ministers, opposition turned into a gospel podcast, and a ruling party choking on its own power games.

If I were still around, I’d tell them all to sit down, shut up, and read a history book — preferably one with a whole chapter on me.

Until next time, Asante Sana!!!