Zimbabweans could well be forgiven for wondering just what their illustrious president is doing at this point in time. The plot in his “look east” campaign is thickening faster than lumpy gravy. After trying to seduce the Libyans and the Malaysians with the spoils of his rape of his own country, he at last appears to have found bedfellows quite as deviod of scruples as himself the Chinese (and I’m not talking about our local Chinese community I’m talking of communist China)! His rabid promotion of ties with the east has more to it than meets the eye! Just look at what he and his morally bankrupt party have been up to recently. First they import small arms in enormous quantities from China. What for? Not for the armed forces, surely? They can’t have broken or lost all of them yet? Comrade Kalashnikov would be turning over in his grave – break an AK? Never! It can’t be done! Lose it? Surely not! No – no such luck – these were to hand over to the teenage products of the so-called national youth service, so that they could help thwart the wicked plans of the evil majority of unarmed Zimbabweans. Help them to protect them from themselves, or something like that? Stop them from dreaming of democracy and freedom and other such traitorous thoughts? Of course!

Then they imported – in time for the run-up to parliamentary elections – hundreds of Chinese military vehicles to replace those that they can’t keep running any more. Between the loss of mechanics to the diaspora, difficulties in buying spares from western countries (who unfairly expect to be paid in hard cash), and the rate at which their poorly disciplined armed forces write them off, yes, they needed to get new vehicles! They needed vehicles to take part in the huge exercise of deploying ballot boxes to about 8000 polling stations dotted across the length and breadth of Zimbabwe. They needed to deploy police officers to all of them. They needed to transport presiding officers and their staff to polling stations. Then they had to collect them all! Well that sounds good, but what if we looked behind the scenes? They had not only to deploy and collect the original sets of ballot boxes, but “replacement” ones as well – you know – the ones which they had prepared just in case the poor rural people took temporary leave of their senses – you know – brought on by their suffering and hunger caused by the evil opposition? Save them from themselves again, sort of? And police officers – of course – there weren’t enough to go around (because Bob has them all on standby for his motorcade – more important!), so they just improvised and dressed up militia in police uniforms and bussed them in. They couldn’t disappoint their public – it would spoil their media ratings! What better than shiny young faces turning up to protect the people from themselves, dressed in fresh new uniforms, in brand new vehicles – sooooo impressive! And the staff – teachers rounded up and bussed from their own constituencies to other areas – so that they couldn’t vote! But you must remember – they made an impressive entrance in new vehices!

What next? Oh yes – what a treasure this was – Chinese fighter jets, to replace their “ageing” British Hawk fighters. Don’t you believe it – what they didn’t trash in the Congo don’t fly no more ‘cos they can’t buy spares from Britain! Traitorous talk! Indeed, I must restrain myself (hold me back guys, please!). What is the primary role of these aircraft? According to “Janes”, it is ground attack and support! Is this to fight off the hordes of South Africans, Batswana, Mozambiquans and Zambians invading the country in search of the the cities paved with gold? One only has to look at the remains of Harare’s once well-paved streets to believe that these hordes have been and gone, leaving only potholed tracks in their wake! My crystal ball tells me that the more likely use of these aircraft is not only to instill fear in the the people of Zimbabwe, or more serio
usly, to use them in crowd control should the opposition manage to get too many people on the streets in (unarmed) protest! How I pray that my crystal ball lies!

Now let’s look at more recent developments. Riot police have just been sent into the flea markets in Harare, and been set upon street traders who ply their trade in the city. Their stalls have been torn apart, and all of their goods confiscated. One source has it that this was Giddyup Gono’s latest move to flush out more forex. He is crucifying these traders for exacerbating the forex shortage, as they buy it on the black market, cross into neighbouring countries and import goods to sell at a profit in Zimbabwe. Well perhaps they are, but so what? Put all their forex together, and you wouldn’t get anywhere near what the average zanupf politburo member salts away in forex every month! The other rumour is that the hordes of Chinese traders who have been allowed to flood into the country just before and after the elections, have found that they are facing stiff competition from the flea markets and street vendors. They got together and made a complaint to no less than vice-president mujuru. As a consequence, she ordered that all flea markets be closed! So much for empowering the citizens of our country! Hundreds of thousands of Zimbabweans have lost their only (legal) source of income! So where will they earn a living now? Considering the fact that these traders are almost all unemployed people from the low (or zero) income group who have scraped money together to try and earn an honest living, this has got to be one of the more morally devoid and treasonous acts perpetrated on the Zimbabwean people, whatever the truth is behind this inhumane act. Another little pearl dropped from a friend today – the milling and oil processing companies have just been informed that there will be no soya bean crop this season. A crop failure? Drought? Nope! The entire crop has been bartered with the Chinese to cover our debts on military spending for the elections! What about the soya oil that the local market is crying for – in short supply already? What about the foods and stockfeeds that are in short supply on the local market? You guessed it! We are going to have to do without!

So just what is bob mugabe up to? Here’s a hint – he only ever said that we would never be a BRITISH colony again (he never said anything about the Chinese). He has mortgaged his country to the hilt for military equipment. But the Chinese are not philanthropists! Far from it. Did mugabe even realise what the Chinese were up to, giving him such easy credit terms? I wonder? No – true capitalists, these Chinese, they have allowed Zimbabwe to become over-extended. Now they are taking what they want, at whatever prices which they dictate! What do they care if Zimbabweans starve?

More to the point, Mugabe has now shown his true colours. This traitor is so intent on remaining in power that he is prepared to sell his country and his people into slavery to the Chinese. People of Zimbabwe, wake up and see the sun rising in the East! If you think that the British were amoral colonialists, you ain’t seen nothing yet! Wait until the full light of day!

I had been driving my car almost on “empty” for a few days, desperately hoping to get some petrol to fill the tank. But apart from long queues around the block and vague promises of “petrol coming” I had found nothing. I am busy and I just didn’t have the six hours plus required to wait in a queue, and besides many people were waiting that long and getting nothing. So I carried on, waiting and hoping, until finally my luck ran out. The car spluttered to a halt right there in the centre of Bulawayo.

After pushing the car to the side of the road with some help from passers-by, I called
up a friend, Farai, on my cell. Farai is a great guy and he came at once, though he was also low on gas. ”Let’s go buy us some juice on the black market”, he said. “We won’t waste time going round the garages ‘cause sure as hell, they don’t have any.”

Farai drove out through the western suburbs to the Rankini Bus Terminus. I was amazed he seemed to know exactly where to go. When we got there he stopped by the pavement and looked up and down. Soon enough he saw what he wanted. He got out and walked across to a few guys sitting by a coca cola stall. He chatted to them for a few minutes and then came back to get a couple of old cans out of the car.

“They’ve got some,” he said, “but it’s gonna cost you.”
“How much ?” I asked.
“100,000 for 5 litres.”
“Hell, what a rip off.”
“Sure is,” replied Farai, “but have you go a better plan ?”

I had to admit I didn’t. In fact I had no option at all if I was going to get my car home and off the streets that evening. I scratched through my pockets and found the money. We paid the touts and emptied their dirty plastic container into Farai’s tin cans. Then we set off back to town.

I was calculating to myself – $ 20,000 a litre compared to the official price of $ 3,400 for the non existent petrol Mugabe couldn’t find – when Farai said something.

“What’s that ?” I asked.
“I just said I hope that petrol has not been watered down with paraffin or something worse”, he replied.
“My God, I hadn’t thought of that ….”

This weekend just gone I went for a drive looking for fuel early in the morning and was sadly amused to see every single fuel station had a queue at least 1km long. We work all week to make money to buy fuel then we wait all weekend in a fuel queue just to go back to work to earn more money to buy fuel, seems very sad. Weekends are supposed to be days of rest and time to spend with your family, not for waiting in fuel queues just so you can get to work on Monday morning.

Another bad start to a day… I was in a peaceful sleep when I was shattered awake by the persistant ringing of the phone. I fumbled around, disoriented. I tried to switch off the alarm clock, but it wouldn’t stop. I finally shook my head clear enough to realise that the phone was the culprit for my rude awakening. I reached for the phone, glancing at the bedside clock – 5.30 in the morning. Someone was phoning me at 5.30 on a Saturday morning! Sacriledge! Saturday is the only day I get a lie-in. This had better be good I thought to myself. I had just ended one of the worst weeks I could remember, with problems taking turns to crawl out of every corner just when I thought I had got on top of the last one, and overtime – lots of overtime! Thoughts of road rage flashed though my mind – no! Not my Saturday morning lie in! No! I’m not going to give it up! Just then my thoughts crashed into an unruly heap. An emergency? Nerves jangled – it could only be an emergency! Why else would someone disturb my lie-in? Steeling myself for the bad news, I reluctantly I lifted the receiver to my ear. I tried to say “Hello”, but a knot in my still sleep-dead tongue made it come out more like “hurrgo”.

“Hi Peter! It’s Jamie here!” came an excited voice almost drowned out by the background noise of what sounded like a disco. Jamie? Who the hell was Jamie? “Jamie who?” I grunted, relief swiftly being replaced by rapidly deteriorating annoyance. “Jamie Smith of course” came the undaunted reply (Jamie works with me), “I’m in a fuel queue, isn’t that great! I think I’m going to get petrol!”
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br />My mind reeled – was it just me, or was Jamie missing something here? Something like his sanity? I know things are pretty bad in Zim at this stage, but wasn’t disturbing people’s hard-earned Saturday morning lie-in pushing it a bit too hard?

“Yah, its really cool here! Me and a couple of the ownes got a call about five to say that Burnside Garage was getting petrol again today. So we rushed here and we’re ONLY fifty-three cars from the front!”, he breezed on with continued enthusiasm.
“Mike’s here with his lekker new stereo and we’re pumping the vibes!” So that was the source of the constant thudding in the background. “Come and join us – we’ve got plenty beers and we can get petrol too!”. He’s lost it – that was all I could think, he’s finally lost it! I should have never have made him do overtime. I should have let him go home earlier this last week – these kids need their sleep – not like us seasoned adults. “No thanks Jamie, I’ll pass this time. I’ve got some petrol still (and if I haven’t, I’ll just walk to work, I thought to myself). See you at work on Monday”. “Okay cool, Pete – see you then – but you’re missing a lekker party!” said Jamie, and he hung up.

Yeah – like a hole in the head I thought, as I put the receiver down. What was it with these kids? Did they not realise how serious the situation was in Zim. Sitting in a petrol queue at 5.30 on a Saturday morning drinking beer, with a stereo almost blowing the windows out of a pulsating car, in the middle of a (normally) quiet residential area – someone was likely to set their dogs on them! Oh heck – my age is really beginning to show. Then the phone rang again. In a flash, I had the receiver to my ear. “No, Jamie, you can’t have Monday off!”, I growled. “Aaag Pete, man, but that’s so unfair”, Jamie said, to howls of laughter in the background. No doubt his (as yet) unemployed mates had put him up to it. “But I’ll be so tired from sitting in a queue!”. “So sad Jamie”, I replied “See you Monday 8 o’clock sharp” and put the phone down. Nope – I wasn’t guilty about the overtime issue any more!

So – back to my thoughts about my shattered Saturday morning lie-in! Burnside Garage! The name awakened my thoughts of sitting in one of those fuel queues a couple of weeks ago. I know what! I now know where he lives! I’ll write him an anonymous note complaining that he doesn’t keep his customers quiet! Laughable to us, yes, but worth a few blood pressure points to an idiot like him! Now I was feeling better, and I rolled over and went to sleep.

That’s the problem with Zim today – nobody has any respect for anyone else. No, I will not sink to generalisations! Not nobody – but distressingly few people – care, or show respect for anyone else. It’s just another aspect of the corruption that the zanupf regime has deliberately forced into the local culture, and it is so easy to succumb to. But I will continue to fight it! Just please ……. don’t phone me early on a Saturday morning!

Sitting in a fuel queue on Thursday morning I was amazed to see a bunch of young ‘war veterans’ walk up to the guys at the pumps and start shouting and making threats. They had decided that they needed the fuel for their business and because they were war vets it was okay to just take it like they do everything else. When the guys at the pumps refused they started to beat them up. What is this country coming to? How much lower do we have to go until it comes right.

My pastor was away this week. When I asked him where he was going he said something about an important church conference in Harare. At the Sheraton. I was intrigued by the idea of my humble
pastor going to a five star conference centre. On the little salary we give him he could not afford a cup of tea at such an expensive place, let alone the cost of travel from Gweru.

I made some enquiries, and this is what I learnt. The Conference was called “Global Advance”. It was addressed by a number of high-powered American evangelists flown in for the occasion. No fewer than 3,000 Zimbabwean pastors had been invited and the total cost was more than one billion (yes, one billion) Zim dollars. Which set me thinking.

I ask myself does any church in Zimbabwe have a billion dollars to spare ? And if it does, is this the best way of spending it, at a luxury five star hotel when half the population is starving ? Anyway, what do these Americans really know about our culture and our ways ? Don’t we have any African Christian leaders ? I also remember that a few years ago Jonathan Moyo set up the fake pastor, Musindo, with an office in the Sheraton – the Musindo who is always singing Mugabe’s praises. So I ask myself did Musindo have a hand in setting up this glittering conference ? After all, we know Mugabe wants to set up a church of his own to worship the ZANU PF way.

I just hope my pastor is asking himself these same questions while he is enjoying the five star meals in the land of the hungry. And I hope when he comes back to us he will still be the humble pastor we have always known.

She got a call from her rural home that her son is in hospital. She rushed off and phoned me a few hours later, incoherent, bereft and grieving, he is dead. She arrived at the hospital, was directed to his bed only to find her son cold, the nurses unaware that he had slipped away some hours previously. This strapping young father of five children was ill for just two days, I saw him only last week when he came to visit his mother. He had a good job in a mine and was trying to help Selina over her overwhelming disappointment from the stolen elections. Nobody can tell her what he died from.

Her husband has had to flee their village on a tip off from a “friendly” policeman, as his open MDC campaigning is going to be “dealt with” by the local green bomber brigade. Selina’s constituency lost their seat to a vicious zanu thug who is currently denying food to any alleged MDC supporters.

Selina’s son had to be buried within 24 hours as the fridges in the hospital morgue are not working. This is the second child she is burying within a year. Her daughter and son-in-law both died last year from AIDS. She now has to support 11 children. I fear for my beloved Gogo.

I thought the land invasions had stopped? Just this week I have been reliably informed that farmers in Manicaland who refused to donate funds to zanu prior to elections have been booted off their land. Then there are the cane farmers in Chiredzi, dairy farmers in Matabeleland and producers in the Save all run off their properties. To cap it all, with National Parks partners in crime to the ongoing effort to empty our conservation areas of any remaining game, two private tourist lodges have been “invaded” just this week.