Opinion / Columnist
Of Ice-Cream, Interface Rallies, and Conspiracy with the gods
07 Sep 2017 at 06:31hrs | Views
THERE certainly must be a pact sealed between the ruling party Zanu-PF and the gods in the heavens. One that is unshakeable. How else can anyone explain this; after successive days of bitter blistering weather so cold that even the Night King and his White Walkers in Game Of Thrones would freeze to death, suddenly the Zanu-PF youth, President Mugabe and the Youth Interface Rally roll into town and the town suddenly becomes sunny and summery!
And so it was last Friday that Gweru experienced almost blistering mid-summer type weather and shook off its winter hangover that only hours before seemed incurable. Under tents and with others in the heart of the sun's glaze, thousands upon thousands stood face-to-face with their first secretary and head of State and Government as he addressed them.
And it is undeniable that because of the multitudes and their squeezing together, the throats, parched had to give and seek something to tone down the thirst and the warmth all around the multitudes. Enter Wilson, one of the perhaps tens of ice-cream vendors who also descended on the Mkoba venue for a cool windfall peddling ice-cream-cones.
Mind you ice-cream has been the hallmark of calming the summer sizzle since the days of Alexander the Great and King Solomon, both famed for loving ice-cream as early as the second century. While it was the thing of kings, today everyone would have a taste of Wilson's wares. The crowds jostled with their bond notes in hands, like piranhas to prey, ridding him of his ice-cream as he looked perplexed and overwhelmed. They wanted that soothing chill and refreshment in the sun.
Over in the tent of royalty, the Traditional Chiefs, kings of our heritage and culture were also getting served as they bought their wares from Wilson when he made his second round in quick succession with bond notes being thrown by him like confetti at a wedding. Curiously he wasn't smiling. I inquired as to why.
"It was cold yesterday and although we knew many people would turn up we never expected such crowds or such sunny weather and somewhat came unprepared," he said handing me my cone. He refused to give me his second name and I wondered why.
The young chap with a banner sitting next to me and very light fingers littered with freckles like tea leaves explained after he left; "Ordinarily these cones cost 50 cents and they have doubled the price following demand. Perhaps that is why he didn't want to divulge his second name," freckled fingers speculated.
Still, that did not deter me from buying another two cones, including one for freckled fingers who was happy to oblige and lick along. Across in the VIP tent there was a lick-fest led by the man who had convened us Kudzanayi Chipanga, the youth strategist who also couldn't resist his own go at a lick of ice-cream. Listening attentively to the keynote address by the President, ice-cream proved to be a rally-goer's best friend. But so too did the cottage industry benefit. Youngsters could also be spotted swarming voluptuous women in regalia as they bought frozen drinks, popularly known as freezits. There was something for everyone's pockets and tastes.
"I actually ran out of ice-cream and ended up completely immersed in the proceedings," said another ice-cream vendor who also preferred not to identify himself. Perhaps for reasons that freckle fingers had mentioned. I sat in the tent of the chiefs; a vagabond among kings. A plebeian among royalty. And had my interface ice-cream moments which I duly snapped up on my smartphone. It was wonderful times indeed!
And the next day. After the roads had cleared. After the President had bade au revoir. After the tents had been brought down and the ground swept clean. Something telling happened. The gods, after fulfilling the demands of their contract with Zanu-PF, sent the blistering cold weather back to Gweru and the ice age continued. And on Saturday, the freezit and ice-cream providers in Bindura better beware. They may run out as the contract is signed again and sunshine, pomp, fanfare and ideology roll into their environs in yet another interface!
And so it was last Friday that Gweru experienced almost blistering mid-summer type weather and shook off its winter hangover that only hours before seemed incurable. Under tents and with others in the heart of the sun's glaze, thousands upon thousands stood face-to-face with their first secretary and head of State and Government as he addressed them.
And it is undeniable that because of the multitudes and their squeezing together, the throats, parched had to give and seek something to tone down the thirst and the warmth all around the multitudes. Enter Wilson, one of the perhaps tens of ice-cream vendors who also descended on the Mkoba venue for a cool windfall peddling ice-cream-cones.
Mind you ice-cream has been the hallmark of calming the summer sizzle since the days of Alexander the Great and King Solomon, both famed for loving ice-cream as early as the second century. While it was the thing of kings, today everyone would have a taste of Wilson's wares. The crowds jostled with their bond notes in hands, like piranhas to prey, ridding him of his ice-cream as he looked perplexed and overwhelmed. They wanted that soothing chill and refreshment in the sun.
Over in the tent of royalty, the Traditional Chiefs, kings of our heritage and culture were also getting served as they bought their wares from Wilson when he made his second round in quick succession with bond notes being thrown by him like confetti at a wedding. Curiously he wasn't smiling. I inquired as to why.
"It was cold yesterday and although we knew many people would turn up we never expected such crowds or such sunny weather and somewhat came unprepared," he said handing me my cone. He refused to give me his second name and I wondered why.
The young chap with a banner sitting next to me and very light fingers littered with freckles like tea leaves explained after he left; "Ordinarily these cones cost 50 cents and they have doubled the price following demand. Perhaps that is why he didn't want to divulge his second name," freckled fingers speculated.
Still, that did not deter me from buying another two cones, including one for freckled fingers who was happy to oblige and lick along. Across in the VIP tent there was a lick-fest led by the man who had convened us Kudzanayi Chipanga, the youth strategist who also couldn't resist his own go at a lick of ice-cream. Listening attentively to the keynote address by the President, ice-cream proved to be a rally-goer's best friend. But so too did the cottage industry benefit. Youngsters could also be spotted swarming voluptuous women in regalia as they bought frozen drinks, popularly known as freezits. There was something for everyone's pockets and tastes.
"I actually ran out of ice-cream and ended up completely immersed in the proceedings," said another ice-cream vendor who also preferred not to identify himself. Perhaps for reasons that freckle fingers had mentioned. I sat in the tent of the chiefs; a vagabond among kings. A plebeian among royalty. And had my interface ice-cream moments which I duly snapped up on my smartphone. It was wonderful times indeed!
And the next day. After the roads had cleared. After the President had bade au revoir. After the tents had been brought down and the ground swept clean. Something telling happened. The gods, after fulfilling the demands of their contract with Zanu-PF, sent the blistering cold weather back to Gweru and the ice age continued. And on Saturday, the freezit and ice-cream providers in Bindura better beware. They may run out as the contract is signed again and sunshine, pomp, fanfare and ideology roll into their environs in yet another interface!
Source - the herald
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