Fellow countrymen, ZANU PF elites, and ordinary suffering citizens, it’s that time again—I rise from the dead to share my unparalleled political wisdom and insight.
It has come to my celestial attention that one Cyril Ramaphosa, a man of diplomacy but no revolutionary marrow, was recently summoned into Donald Trump’s colonial courtroom—a theatre so farcical it would embarrass even Idi Amin in his prime.
Let it be known across the dimensions: if I, Robert Mugabe, were ever summoned by Trump—that tweeting buffoon in an ill-fitting suit—to answer for my Pan-African convictions, I would have walked into that Oval Office with the gait of a statesman, not a supplicant.
I would not have stood accused. I would have been the accuser.
Trump would not have prosecuted me.
I would have delivered a three-hour lecture on the tyranny of whiteness, backed by footnotes from Walter Rodney and fire quotes from Frantz Fanon.
As for Elon Musk, that capitalist chimera, I would have dismissed him as a Tesla-driving tribalist with a God complex and a missing soul.
He would’ve left the room questioning electricity.
You see, I did not survive Ian Smith and British treachery just to be judged by a real estate clown turned emperor.
I, Robert Gabriel Mugabe—the original demagogue—mastered the art of rhetorical combat and propaganda warfare.
As for Ramaphosa’s “Zelensky moment”? What an embarrassment.
When I faced white power, I didn’t blink—I land-reformed it.
Now let me descend from the White House fantasy and speak plainly of home.
I watch now, with divine disgust, as ZANU PF demolishes homes it bribed voters to build.
How tragically predictable.
You offer a stand for a vote, and once elected, you offer a bulldozer in return.
My people, the irony!
In my time, I used state power to fight white farmers—today, the same power is used to dispossess black citizens.
The revolution has become real estate.
It seems ZANU PF has become an old man’s joke without the old man’s wit.
You demolish homes with biblical justifications and call it *Vision 2030.*
Vision, indeed—a vision of misery.
How do you convince people to vote for their own destruction?
Answer: you lie with confidence, steal with piety, and demolish with righteousness.
That’s the new ZANU gospel.
Speaking of gospels, allow me to address Brother Kuda Tagwirei—apostle of avarice, prophet of patronage, and anointed high priest of state capture.
Quoting Deuteronomy while devouring the economy?
Now that’s peak hypocrisy.
In my day, we captured businessmen and made them dance to the party’s tune.
Today, businessmen capture the party and conduct the orchestra from Swiss bank accounts.
Tagwirei baptizes looting as “prosperity theology,” preaching that poverty is a mindset while he buys islands with taxpayer tears.
God didn’t bless your billions, Kuda. The Reserve Bank did.
ZANU PF, the once-mighty liberation movement I led with fire and fear, is now a WhatsApp chain of kleptocrats quoting scripture to justify theft.
You have replaced ideology with idolatry—worshipping capital, not the people.
So I say this, from the silence of my grave to the noise of your rallies: the struggle was never meant to be privatized.
The revolution was not for sale.
Return to the people, or face history’s harshest judgment—oblivion.
Until next time, Asante Sana!
