Harare, Zimbabwe (News of the South)-At the current count Zimbabweans have exactly 75 political parties and individuals from which to choose the next President. He it is who shall be obligated to oversee the resuscitation of a comatose economy, a derelict industry and a cleanse out the political toxicity that’s infesting the once bustling nation.
Its a grotesque buffet, overdone and overstaffed for such a tiny population. Much of the arrayed stuff could be done without, being either a repetition, duplication or a downright Saturday Night Live reverse-parody on a real life stage.
Most of the contesting parties are shelf creations, briefcase outfits spanning the geography of their creator’s skulls and nothing more. They are sustained by the gratuitous attention of social media and the all-embracing hug of democracy, suffering all fools.
For Zimbabweans its a new scenario used as they are to the whittled vegetarian diet of over 3 decades. For much of the past the choice has been a slim-fit oriented menu.
Greyish Chinese-imported diet-tea of Zanu’s third-rate socialism,promising a leaner country run by sons of the soil,averse to the capitalistic and fattening hedonism of Western GMO’s. The herbal tea has dismally failed to deliver its stated results. The country has fallen sick afflicted by a variety of diseases.
The concoction has lost taste and use, slurped on only by a forced few still eager to beat back contrived obese demons only they can see.
(Now that Mnangagwa has come in the menu may swing from the ultra left of starch basics only into the middle right liberalism advocating aesthetics in taste.)
The sloppy whipped cream of MDC has been a tangy taste too sick and weak to hold the stomach for long for many. They have intermittently taken long lascivious licks but never chosen to sleep on it.
It has been a lean course to survive on but all the same sufficient. 2018 has however brought in the whole nine yards of culinary flamboyance, splashing out a wide variety of gastrointestinal tingling tricks.
2018 has rolled out the whole freaking buffet and shaken the stomachs of the voting population dazed by the wide array splashed before it.
They are dried biltong pieces with no taste or juice left in them. Mujuru, expelled from Zanu is busy trying to craft a new portrait of a heroine thrown by fate onto our laps and intent to save our poor asses.
Mangoma, dismissed or expelled or fled from whatever variation of MDC is there with his own brand of politics and a briefcase of promises.
After the fabled 8% that cost Tsvangirai, Simba Makoni today exists as a faded pawn waiting to be traded on the political chessboard, his mysterious brilliance busted long back by time and the frictional grappling of African politics.
Nkosana Moyo is the new Simba Makoni, trotting back with the same education, allure and mysteriousness, ready for something groundbreaking and useless.
Bizarre fried octopus with questionable taste is there in freaks offering nothing but their freakishness. Someone called Kambizi is leading Kambizi Party and has promised voters, currently sleeping at banks for cash, that he will give them a Ministry of Relationships!
Of course go find him and give him a kick in the area relationships love the most.
Some bland tasting inanities are replete, effusively and falsely selling themselves as the bite you have been unconsciously looking for.
There is someone called Pres Langton Chirinda.Pres Jacob Ngarivhume. Pres Dr Noah Manyika. Pres Munyaridzi Masiya. There are so many everyday guys and names amongst the contesting people that for some phases the list reads like a roll-call for the most obscure politicians alive.
The heavy bites of starch are still there too, like the old steam trains chugging with much wheezing and coughing, spewing out more smoke than ventilation and combustion requires.
Mugabe is still clinging to the dais of power. All crooked and sinewy, a tendinous piece of stale meat refusing the ameliorating mix of saliva, in the form of agreeing to step down amicably or the grimaced bite of teeth, in opposition rallies and demos, hanging on and blubbering about Pan African utopias and Western enemies in the eaves.
Tsvangirai, equally past time and more history than the future, is recuperating or dying from a kick of fate (which side is up is relative to religious inclination), tethered to power more by sentiment than logic, a once family favourite stew we have all grown past and whose taste no longer suprises taste buds.
The whole buffet has this time been leavened with a garish sprinkling of female independent contestants looking for MP slots and garbing themselves in a dashing rainbow of green, yellow and pink
There is Linda Masarira, gunning for Harare Central. Reputed activist, daylight female empowerment driver. There is Fadzayi Mahere targeting Mt Pleasant, whispered Zanu decoy, daylight human rights advocate. There is Linda Sibanyoniaiming for Harare East, no whispered rumour, no real chance.
Combined its a stew of hope, drive and political romanticism. The aroma is a shifty haze of throttling sourness and toxic grace.
The 2018 election is a daunting buffet in the multiplicity of crazily concocted dishes but pared down to the essentials the choice is a simple one.
The country is way past the need for living martyrs, the task too big for adventurers and our lives too important for freaks fishing with coitus rods.
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