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.
Ah, Zimbabwe, 45 years on, and the carnival of contradictions still marches strong.
Take this recent spat in the mother ship itself—ZANU PF.
Our dear spokesperson, Christopher Mutsvangwa, waves his hands wildly, suggesting that Patrick Chinamasa, the party’s legal secretary, is merely whispering his own little opinions about co-opting Kudakwashe Tagwirei into the Central Committee.
Oh, the drama!
But Chinamasa, old hand and seasoned politburo gladiator, fires back sharper than a pangolin’s quills, confirming the tycoon’s entry was smooth as a presidential handshake—endorsed by committees, blessed by Politburo sessions, and nodded through by Vice President Chiwenga himself.
So here we have it: a factional feud disguised as party procedure.
Mutsvangwa’s musings against Chinamasa’s cold hard facts are like watching a telenovela where the script keeps changing but the actors never leave the stage.
The “axe to grind,” as Chinamasa hints, cuts deep.
One wonders—who’s the real puppeteer, and who is just the marionette?
Tagwirei, the fuel tycoon turned political kingmaker, stands firm in the eye of this factional storm.
But beware, power plays in ZANU PF are no tea party, history teaches us that those who overreach without the army’s blessing often end up as dust on the wind.
Meanwhile, the nation waits—still—45 years after that miraculous dawn of independence.
Houses promised to war collaborators who helped secure our freedom are only now trickling out like reluctant rainfall in drought season.
Some have long gone to the ancestors, missing the brick-and-mortar rewards that were whispered about for decades.
My people, what about our youth, the supposed future?
They’ve been handed a cup of patience, laced with hardship and the call to “start your own liberation war” if life seems unfair.
No stable jobs, no dignified homes, just the same old colonial hardships repackaged under the Vision 2030 slogan.
A cruel joke, if you ask me—you fought for freedom, yet your children inherit the shackles of waiting and want.
Another issue that caught my attention is that the University of Zimbabwe—the supposed temple of knowledge—faces a court challenge that might halt the August graduation.
The scandal is that degrees are handed out like lottery tickets, awarded to students whose courses were barely taught, exams left unmoderated, and projects marked with the same consistency as inflation rates.
Lecturers have been on strike since April, teaching gaps admitted openly, but the powers that be push forward to “protect the academic calendar” as if it’s more sacred than national integrity.
Is this the education that will shape tomorrow’s leaders?
Or just a photo op with caps and gowns on students clutching certificates born of guesswork?
So here we stand, my people: a ruling party torn by factionalism where big business and the military play chess on the backs of ordinary Zimbos.
Of course, a nation still waiting decades later for the promises of liberation to show in their homes and jobs; and an education system teetering on the edge of farce, handing out paper diplomas like consolation prizes.
If I were still around to supervise this circus, I’d tell them all: “Enough yammering.
Read history—especially the chapters on patience, power, and the price of empty promises.”
Well, maybe then, just maybe, Zimbabwe would stop being a drama replayed with new actors but the same tired script.
Until next time, Asante Sana!!!
