After reflecting . . .

I didn't see anyone celebrating the inauguration; I didn't see anyone celebrating the Constitutional Court's predictable verdict. I did see one or two people wearing the free T-shirts; one said openly she couldn't afford to be choosy. If a second-hand T-shirt costs a dollar, and someone offers a new one free, she wouldn't worry about what was written on it. We have come that low.

Yes, by any normal human standard of evidence, Chamisa proved that there should be a runoff since Mnangagwa didn’t get 50%+1 votes. He demonstrated graphically, what we all knew, that the whole process was so flawed that the result could not be called free or fair. He was denied access to enough results to prove beyond doubt what we all knew, that he got more than 50% of the vote, so there would be no need for a runoff.

But what difference does it make? Not much to ZANU-PF, who continue playing their old tricks. Those include paying for a very luxurious private jet to fly one of the richest women in the country back from Singapore for her mother’s funeral. She admitted there are private jets less expensive than the one she was offered, but why pay more than a first class fare on a scheduled flight?

The next is small beer, but it rankles down here in the ghetto. In the past month, three access roads to Stodart Hall have been freshly tarred. By my reckoning there are few streets in Mbare that need an extra layer of new tar less than those three. But, to rub salt into our wounds, Pazarangu Avenue, which was tarred on Saturday 8 September, was full at 8:45am the next day, of large new cars with horns blaring to prevent any of us from having a quiet Sunday morning.

I don’t need to spell out what that was about. We don’t expect them to respect our dead. We don’t expect them to respect themselves or anyone else. But surely that kind of behaviour under the pretext of a funeral is the grossest kind of disrespect to the unknown person they claimed to be mourning?

This doesn’t augur well for the chances of the new friendly, cuddly Croc can maintain his new form for very long.

Yes, we have a real economist as Minister of Finance, but will he be allowed to do his job, in consultation with staff and colleagues of course, but without having to wait for any idea he may have to be first presented to the Croc to adopt, then passed to the ZANU politburo in case it clashes with the private interests of any member of that august body and then presented to parliament so that the noisy little men in grass hats can learn to accept it before the Minister is allowed to take any action?

I do sincerely hope that the Minister will be allowed to do his job according to the Constitution, but I fear he will discover, as Simba Makoni discovered before him, that that involves treading on too many important toes.

I see that the man with the phony doctorate has been given a deputy who should know something about cholera; one clap for that.

I am afraid that the joker who circulated a CV of our new sports minister, which made her a njuzu hero of the Second Chimurenga with feats to her credit that make shooting down a helicopter with an AK47 pale into insignificance, is nearer to the tradition of ZANU-PF and to its idea of the future than is good for any of us. If I am proved wrong, I will be delighted, but don’t bet any real money on it.

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