This and that with Mal'phosa - How The Mighty Have Fallen

  A friend sent me a picture of the once untouchable, formidable and all too powerful former speaker of parliament and former Zanu secretary for administration, and former Member of parliament for Makoni, and most ardent architect of the land grabbing spree that has characterized the country since the opposition wrestled power from the ruling party in 2000; Mutasa, yes, Didymus Noel Edwin, once a Zanu zealot and official presidential boot-licker. Remember, 'The Constituency, Makoni - Mutasa Didymus Noel Edwin - - -', that all too familiar, uncomfortable Mudede voice. That is the only time we got to hear all the many names these Ministers and former ministers kept under wraps, perhaps just for this occasion. How the mighty have fallen! Clad in a mis-buttoned shirt and multi-coloured jersey with prominent X's in front, and a white, creased pair of trousers, he cuts a figure all too forlorn and lonely and hopeless! Looks like all those designer suits from China and Cuba are definitely a thing of the past.

Mutasa used to command so much respect when he was in Zanu - with those expensive suits and ties and sometimes sun-glasses. Ubaba utshaziwe - the glitter is gone- perhaps with hiss loss of power and, of course, loss of hero status. He looks like an ill, abandoned peasant, and his nostalgic expression tells a story of misery and agony. I remember Mutasa for a lot of things, and gukurawundi will never be mentioned without the mention of his name too. So, he is a man I hate with all the veins and arteries and all the muscles of my body.

One time he came to Mahole in Filabusi to address a rally. I do not really know what it was he wanted to tell the villagers there and in what capacity he was in Mahole. One thing for sure is that after he left, the villagers had been duped, permanently. It is Khutshwekhaya who acted like Mutasa's sporori, calling him ubaba uMtasa, all the time he referred to him. And izakhamizi ululated zealously, to please and impress.

Typical of Zanu, Mutasa divided the people – he would say phambili le Zanu to the villagers, izakhamizi zivungame kuzamazame umhlaba. He would say the same thing to the primary school pupils and their teachers; 'Phambili!' they would all respond in unison, as if in competition with one another.

'Well done; this shows that primary school teachers are doing a good job teaching children about musangano we banhu. Now, let us see if the same is happening at secondary school.' He punched the air forcefully and shouted vehemently, 'Pamberi ne Zanu pf!' You could literally hear the proverbial pin fall on to the scorched red Mahole soils. The silence was almost palpable and deathly! I, for one, never intended to respond anyway - but I was stunned to realize that all the teachers and students thought like me. Mutasa was stunned - Khutshwekhaya was embarrassed. Mutasa repeated his war cry, and the response was the same.

'You see what I was talking about!' he said in disdain; 'These secondary school teachers do not know that these children belong to the party. We will withdraw our children from this school and see whom these teachers will teach. These children, all of them, belong to Zanu pf, like it or not. And, from today onwards, we want to make sure that all schools teach our children about the party. Any teacher not prepared to do so must leave! He blabbered on.

Then he spoke about the tarred road from Filabusi growth point to Mbelengwa via Silalatshani - 'We will not give you stones and a snake when what you want is bread and fish.' He said in apparent reference to the biblical verse about a father giving a snake to his son when the son wants fish. So, he was referring to the road as a snake as it will meander through the villages like a giant serpent. And the stones, in this case, were the gravel used to construct the tarmac! Wow! Clever indeed, and the villagers shook the earth again with their ululating and whistling and dancing – pounding the red, hot dust of Mahole with their bare feet.

The figure that Mutasa cuts now is a complete tangent to what he was then. Of course, age must have corroded him somewhat but it shows that it's cold out here. We have no access to government funds which we can plunder at will; or government resources which we can use for our own personal benefits; we have no access to bribery, with cash and kind and no one ever listens to us. Probably he no longer owns that classy Merc, or that heavenly mansion, and those multiple farms and the automatic power to 'win' tenders. He no longer commands the submissive-as-slaves and subdued audiences he enjoyed to dupe and force to say 'Phambili!' I wonder what he would tell those Mahole folks if today he found himself having to address them.

Does he still feel Zanu and its commissions and omissions should still be in the syllabus at our schools? Since he has left - or, to be more polite - has been sacked from Zanu, does he still think our children belong to Zanu? If so, how then shall he campaign for his new, doomed party in the same area? People might not even want to attend his rallies or meetings because he has lost that sting or that light he borrowed from Zanu. And he will have no power to force them this time around.

Siyababona futhi abanye abafana laye - wanting to visit our sacred places where lie the thousands, nay, tens of thousands they helped murder, pretending to be on our side now that they want our votes. Why, if they are not going to bring us any compensation or justice or both? Just to open old suppurating wounds with those fake smiles and more false promises and crocodile tears, and laugh at our losses? Of course, no amount of money or material wealth shall bring back my father who was burned alive for the simple reason that he is an Ndebele. He was killed in cold blood and these men and women were a part of the grand plan to eliminate us - which we shall not forget.

Yet others amongst them will approach us in the name of Father Zimbabwe, Joshua Nkomo - begging, nay, demanding our votes in his name. I have said it before; if you are going to vote Zanu, do so out of your own free will and never use Nkomo as your excuse. But then for others we know still, they hated Nkomo so bad they wanted him dead. They also hated the population so much they wished they were the only inhabitants of the country: "We would be better off with only six million people, with our own people who supported the liberation struggle. We don't want all these extra people."  These were the exact words of Mutasa in 2002, kusesemnandi ku Zanu. Now, he will wish there were many more people against Zanu, to give him the votes. Now, does he have the courage to retrace his steps to all those people he insulted and wished dead, and apologize for his misdemeanors so they can vote for him - the same people he believed so much were dispensables? But, he said it himself, we all belong to Zanu. So he and his other malcontents must go to hell!

Ngiyabonga mina!