Home OpinionComrade Tichatonga Political turncoats and the quest for relevance

Political turncoats and the quest for relevance

by commuadmin
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Mama Hen used to run a tight ship. Everything was in its proper place; the fowl run was neat to a fault, not a speck of dust out of place, nor a knit on the floor.

Auntie Mauya managed to get everyone to be a signatory to the agreement not to excrete in the house. This not only curbed the acrid stench and ammonium inhalation, toxic to chickens, but also improved the general in-house hygiene.

With time however, four young cockerels, and their father started coming home late, after a weekend binge at the local pub, and they started urinating and excreting in the house. Mama Hen cleaned the run, in angry silence and passive aggression for months.

Until one day, after the louse infection had reached terrible levels and she just could not take it anymore. Coincidentally, the respected Auntie Mauya, Papa Cockrel’s sister, came for a visit.

She arrived just before dusk and as usual the ‘boys’ were out having a sundowner or seven…and they continued their usual ablution antics at night.

Auntie, after a bout of itching and scratching, boldly asked everyone at breakfast, “The last time I visited the house was clean and spotless, there was the sweet smell of lavender in the air, now it’s acrid and there are lice in the house, muroora, vanasikana, what’s going on, vakomana, ndiani futi atanga kuitira matoto mumba?”

There was a heavy silence in the air one could almost touch it. It was suffocating almost, until the youngest member of the family, also angry at his brother and his Father’s flagrant disregard for the house rules, covered his face with his wing and timidly shouted, “NdiBaba!”

The name Morgan has some almost cultic status in Zimbabwe’s Second Liberation struggle movement and its supporters. It is a name synonymous with freedom, the promise for a better Zimbabwe, better salaries and working conditions, a thriving Middle class, democracy and good governance.

It is a name that reminds us that nothing comes easy, that clear goals and a brave determination to work towards attaining those goals is not a preserve of the educated few, but anyone who sees the need for a revival of Zimbabwe. Sadly, Morgan the doyen is no more.

Morgan, the name at least, today has been hogging the limelight for other reasons. And make no mistake, I am not talking about the American actor Morgan Freeman, or the famous funeral parlous Doves Morgan ( though quite frankly, a lot of Zimbabwean Rural Party and some Modern Party politicians ought be there i.e ‘mudzimba dzisina window…’) as Chimbetu would have sang, dzinotonhorera.

I am talking Morgan the Cup Bearer and his comrade in arms Douglas Masimba. These gentlemen have staged a spectacular turncoat act. Absolutely spectacular!

Mumba mazara nhata umu. It’s just that they are the latest to pull such stunts, and certainly won’t be the last. Every organisation and movement has such characters and, they are necessary for the maintenance of the clear course, I dare say.

Let’s take off the gloves ladies and gentlemen. This is war! Cde Scarfmore has clearly shown that he won’t stop at anything; even killing won’t stop him whenever and wherever he presumes that his tenure is under threat.

So let’s call a spade a spade abalazwale, this regime is ruthless and will kill the innocent and the very people they vowed to protect and to whip everyone into line. What happened to Johana Mamombe is a classic example of what the Croc is capable of. Sad!

Izvi hazvisirizvo zvatakaendera kuhondo mhani. Yes, I maintain that I am a true liberation war cadre to those who don’t know me and the independence promises and also the new dispensation promises included a word from leadership to whip abductions away. Manje chii ichochi. Haaa nxaaa!

This, by extension, stands to reason that excreting in your own house is self defeating. What happened to the commitment to the Zimbabwean cause? What happened to the maturity you once displayed which calls for a consultative process to outline the challenges and to locating the exit points within the structures of the movement?

And you too, Nelson, what could you have done better? What can you do better, how can you salvage the remains of integrity? You know you have numbers solidly behind you, but the restless masses need clarity on the way forward.

Saka nhai Douggie newe Chikomana Cup, what the hell happened? I remember sadly the rifts in the Modern Party when there was the issue of participation in the Senate, and no prizes for mentioning who emerged the victor then in the national plebiscite?

Then there was MDC Mutambara, whatever happened to that…then there was the stand alone MDC again, then MDC Alliance, then there was another MDC-T now with Sis Khupe and you Douggie, and Chikomana Cup.

The one thing that beats me here gents is why we seem to forget that there is a common denominator here!? The Rural Party always emerging victorious, as a direct result of the Modern Party’s actions, or inaction and error in judgment.

Where are you heading gentlemen and lady? I am sure you all appreciate that this is a numbers game, and splitting votes does nothing to forward your collective cause which is to unseat these tyrants. But ahhh, what do I know? I am just a simple Mukanya!

Coincidentally, I am listening to ‘Judas’ by Simon Chimbetu, so while that plays on, let me pen off lest am accused of kutaurisa.

Nhasi ndakatsamwa, but let me introduce you to stupidity in the name of ‘Popi’; based in the Midlands. The man rose to fame for the wrong reasons, using his powers within the hierarchies in City of Gweru departments to erect a hump adjacent to his home all to save his chickens from speeding drivers.

This happened at a time the community’s plea to have a hump erected close to a nearby school, Nashville High School; a stone throw away from his house had been ignored for years. The community’s plea was to save children from being run over by speeding drivers of cause!

Chickens versus human life Comrades. Haaa zvimwe muti munotamba vakomana!

Till next time folks, keep the house clean; hatidi mapete; enjoy some music, pork bones and sadza.

Adios Amigos.

Out.

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