Zimbabwe is politically immature. Unfortunately, this immaturity translates to insult laws, and the proscription of lawful assembly and the free dissemination of ideas. It means blatantly rigged elections, which are rubber-stamped with no reasonable recourse (yeah the so-called courts are nonsense, you know that).
Zimbabwe is so stupid that so-called “elections” are held without a voters’ roll. I’ll say that again, and listen very carefully, so you can understand the magnitude of what the feck I’m talking about here.
Elections. Without a voters’ roll. By the way, the electoral law states that an electronic copy of said voters’ roll should be made available to the candidates within a reasonable amount of time after the date for elections is announced. Two weeks after said elections, no fecking voters’ roll. You figure it out. Anyway.
I was here during what I like to call the black period, 2005-08. The place was ridiculous. But we made do, somehow.
Now that I’m a grown-ass man, I have realised that I can’t really go through that shit again. My situation has changed, and so have my priorities.
Where I could go without bread or sugar (or fuel, or beer, or meat, or … anything) before, when I was a Mandela (the free one, not the dying one) I can’t see myself going through that now.
I refuse to raise a young family in a country run by the same people who destroyed it in the first place. So I’m leaving, for a while.
Until someone can tell me how the electoral law was violated, with the result being celebrated as a “victory”, I cannot possibly take this country seriously.
We are a nation of thieves, and I’ll stake my left nut that it’s only going to get worse. But I’m okay.
You stole my Zimbabwe, so you can keep it for now. I’ll be back, even if only to rebuild from the rubble that you’ll inevitably turn it into. Again.
Maisa bhora mugedhi, but yanga iri own goal ka? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Rule, let’s see.
I will never be a Chinese colony again.