""The mistake you make, don’t you see,is in thinking one can live in a corrupt society without being corrupt oneself. After all, what do you achieve by refusing to make money? You’re trying to behave as though one could stand right outside our economic system. But one can’t. One’s got to change the system, or one changes nothing. One can’t put things right in a hole-and-corner way, if you take my meaning.” George Orwell Surprise surprise Zimbabwe is ranked 157/177 countries which is pitiful by any standards. But the thing with corruption is that once it has become so endemic in the culture it is impossible to escape it. Our mothers pay police officers to get away from speeding fines, our grandmothers bribe their councillors to get water delieverd to them. We as teenagers bought drinks for the guards to be allowed to leave home without trouble. In a country were corruption filters from the top down and those that are meant to be protecting the public from it are the greatest offenders, I don not see why anyone has an incentive to change. What I do wonder is how much money is lost from the economy due to this predation, how much income is taken and how many businesses fail because of constant harresement from authorites. As for whether this will ever change.. a long hard look in the mirror will demonstrate that it probably will not. Ever. So we should not stand outside in the cold.
To whom it may concern,
I am no longer interested in being liked. While this paradigm shift may take some of those close to me by surprise I am simply making clear what has been evident to me for years now.
Perhaps I should clarify, first of all my disinterest in being liked begins with the word like itself ‘like’ as an adjective it is weak and lazy, as a conjunction it can be replaced with better suited terms, as an adverb it is nothing but meaningless filler, and informally ‘its like totally annoying like you know what I mean like really.’ So one can begin to see that my compunction at the concept of being liked is deep rooted.
The failings of like as a word have been compounded by how ubiquitous Facebook has made it, and this is what lays at the heart of my detachment from being liked. Social media has slowly made us into harlots prostituting our lives moments for comments shares and of course ‘likes’, we do it for the retweets subtweets and reblogs. Pictures that do not get an immediate response somehow disappear within hours of being posted, status updates that languish for days on 3 likes get taken down. Social media is no longer about us showing who we are sharing with our friends and strangers alike a bit of us that we want the world to see, instead each post tweet and update is based on whether it strikes the zeitgeist and gets enough people to agree. Essentially we post a mirror so people can look at it and agree. Should it be a mirror or a window ?
Anyway I personally am no longer interested in being liked, I love sharing information my views beliefs and thoughts, I however would rather a comment some discussion than a summary like.
Also … I can appreciate how this may seem pretentious or hypocritical.. well don’t like it then ka mxm.
The outcome of the recent Zimbabwean elections has left a hole in my heart were hope used to reside. Hope and I have been friends for a very long time she has always resided in me, but somewhere along the line when I moved to Australia I stopped paying attention to her or maybe just she realised that I was not interested.
But I spent the first 4 months of this year in Harare and once again Hope grew in me. With every smile I saw hope grew. With every pothole I saw filled, Hope grew every Mazda BT50 overloaded with bricks Hope grew. Every time I went to Dzivarasekwa and I saw wells being dug hope grew, seeing people moving from a plastic shack to dzimba dzemarata, to their brick and mortar houses hope grew. In those months hope set up a permanent residence, she moved in it felt good.
When the results came out , wow, the very moment Rita Makarau said our old new president had achieved 61% of the vote. Hope vacated, she packed her bags as she was walking out the door she passed out and slipped into a coma. I mourned, I thought I would never get Hope back.
But Hope is a stubborn bitch and although she has been knocked down she is once again rising like a giddy boxer from the mat. Hope intolerable in her tenacity has begun growing again. This time she is not naive, she refuses to look outwards, upwards to those in lofty places to protect her. Instead Hope is helping me work, Hope is encouraging my friends, Hope is whispering nyika ndeyedu tese. Hope is reminding me that one day they shall sail on, sail on.
Sail on, sail on
Oh mighty ship of state
To the shores of need, past the reefs of greed,
Through the squalls of hate
Sail on, sail on, sail on, sail on.
It’s coming to Africa, the cursed,
The cradle of the first and the worst
It’s here they have arranged the philosophy for change
And it’s here they have the spiritual thirst
It’s here the family’s broken and it’s here the people say
That the heart has got to transform in a fundamental way
Democracy is coming
*Check out Leonard Cohens original this is just paraphrase. The concept was put forward by one of the mail and guardians thought leaders.
**This picture is not actually my friend hope she is sitting right next to me, you probably can’t see her though.
I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just; his justice cannot sleep forever.