By Cde Patriot Sunungura

Our beloved revolutionary party, ZANU PF’s motormouth information tsar Christopher Mutsvangwa, recently launched into a fiery tirade about the late Robert Mugabe’s dynastic dreams — and, in true Zimbabwean fashion, forgot to check whether he was roasting a ghost or accidentally describing his current boss’s succession blueprint, just with newer uniforms and shinier medals.

With the fervor of a preacher condemning sin from inside a brothel, Mutsvangwa passionately denounced Robert Mugabe’s failed dynasty through military appointments — moments before President Emmerson Mnangagwa promoted his longtime intelligence pal, Walter “FAZ-is-Watching-You” Tapfumaneyi, to Army Chief of Staff.

The irony was so delicious you could serve it with sadza and prime beef ribs at a Politburo meeting.

Tapfumaneyi, last seen intimidating voters in the 2023 elections while allegedly confiscating funds meant for FAZ agents, is now officially rebranded as the future face of Zimbabwe’s next military commander.

At this rate, the only qualification for promotion is how well you can memorise Ruka Chivende’s shoe size.

Mutsvangwa’s speech was the political equivalent of screaming “Down with thieves!” while inviting Zviganandas that loot from the national coffers to join the revolutionary party, ZANU PF.

While Mugabe’s model was a classic African soap opera – starring Grace, Robert Junior, and Bellarmine in a Dynasty-meets-Keeping Up With the Mugabes special – Mnangagwa’s version is a military telenovela.

Think Mafidi Dynasty Reloaded, now with camouflage, Zviganandas, and a suspiciously generous supply of “retired” generals who somehow all end up richer and more powerful than before.

Gone are the days of Grace Mugabe screaming at rallies in Gucci heels – today, Ruka Chivende prefers to whisper quietly in army tents and promote everyone who can carry a gun and a briefcase.

Where Mugabe gave out farms, Mnangagwa now offers “residential stands for loyalty,” like some twisted ZESA rewards programme.

Yet, the hypocrisy is priceless.

The very same Mutsvangwa who once stood on the ruins of Mugabe’s presidency with revolutionary fireworks is now trying to explain why this dynasty is different. It’s like catching a guy cheating on his wife using the same hotel as the last guy — and then insisting it’s “a new era.”

Meanwhile, the military, which once flexed its muscles in the name of “saving the constitution,” now functions more like Mnangagwa’s personal WhatsApp group.

Security forces allegedly dish out protection like airtime bundles — US$25,000 per month gets you state protection, immunity from the law, and maybe even a free Chicken Inn two-piece.

Don’t forget Agenda 2030 – our beloved leader’s “vision” to rule until the sun burns out, or until ZEC learns how to count votes without checking with the CIO first.

Agenda 2030 is so ambitious that it’s making Grace Mugabe’s “rule from the grave” dream sound like a humble retirement plan.

Mutsvangwa declared with all the conviction of a man who’s never read his own press statements, “When a leader becomes bigger than the revolution, we deal with him!” Apparently, “dealing with him” now includes generous pension packages, army medals, and positions on the next FAZ election intimidation committee.

As ZANU PF factional wars heat up faster than a pot of sadza on a paraffin stove, insiders are fighting over who gets to be the next “dynastic pretender” — while loudly insisting they hate dynasties.

In Zimbabwe, we don’t repeat history. We remix it. Same tune, new uniforms, and even bigger looters stealing our national resources.

Mutsvangwa may have set out to banish Mugabe’s ghost — but instead, he summoned it, dressed it in army fatigues, gave it a fuel allowance, and handed it a new appointment letter signed, “Yours Revolutionarily, E.D.”

The only thing left is for someone to remind Mutsvangwa that if you live in a glass house, it’s best not to throw liberation war slogans.