THERE is a Mafioso lot in town, which happens to hold the mantle and levers of power. They temporarily deceived many by morphing into sheep in November 2017, masquerading as saviours, who came to rid Zimbabwe of criminals around the then farm owner, who has since departed.
Sooner, they resorted to default settings. Surely, just as the leopards do not change colours, the pseudo sheep were hyenas again, this time more ruthless. Now they have the farm to themselves after chasing other criminal farmers off it.
The thieving priesthood lot is mercilessly on the prowl, stealing everything that comes its way, in the process converting our lovely country into a den of thieves.
They were initially caught with dripping fingers in the cookie jar at Willowvale Mazda Motor Industries in 1988, driving out Toyota Cressida vehicles that they resold at a profit in what came to be known as the infamous Willowgate Scandal.
Unearthed by the late Geoff Nyarota then with the Chronicle in Bulawayo, they were just toddlers, armatures in the thieving game. Following the Sandura Commission report, some of them were genuinely ashamed and resigned.
Maurice Nyagumbo’s remorse led him into taking his life perhaps, as feeling of guilt gnawed at his moral capital. If only he could see how his erstwhile incorrigible colleagues have resorted to daylight corruption without a modicum of restraint.
They do not make such politicians with half full repositories of moral capital anymore. They always run on empty moral tanks.
Then they were still novices at stealing from government coffers. Some lost their positions, but came back revitalised and more skillful than the child’s play that manifested through Willowgate and the Noczim (National Oil Company of Zimbabwe) scandal of 1999.
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If only they knew that stealing was acceptable in the Zanu PF ethics booklet, the only qualification it takes to endear one to the supreme leadership, those that died or resigned would not have bothered.
Enos Chikowore, who presided over the Noczim scandal resigned in 2000. Perhaps, he too should not have resigned, because they do not resign anymore.
They get promoted. It is probably why some bounced back with more determination, perhaps regretting why they had to resign in the first place following the Sandura Commission report. At least the moral fabric, which is now gone, shredded and gone to the dogs, was still holding intact then.
In recent years, the comrades have perfected the art of stealing sugar — our highly-taxed money. They have perfected the science of tenderpreneurship like no other scientist.
They take from the jar like Olympians on steroids, like there is no tomorrow. Unlike the first few years into independence when they respectfully stole Cressidas, not even as beautiful as they make the cars now, they still had a modicum of Ubuntu, and their hearts would beat the moment they see the sugar jar.
Their hearts do not beat anymore. Even in broad daylight, they are unrestrained. Unsophisticated too. They do not even try to hide it. They take all the sugar in the jar without blinking, without thinking of the next Zimbabwean.
The whole stealing process is choreographed. It starts with Napoleon, the owner of the farm, yes the contemporary version of the animal farm.
The fish rots from the head. He identifies our problems and concludes that finally we needed a rudimentary version of the interchange highway they have been making in other countries since time immemorial to be called one of Napoleon’s many names.
Hooray! Another money-making opportunity has presented itself.
Napoleon might get visitation from villagers and some other timid subjects imploring him to give them goats or farming inputs.
Or, he pretends to visit hospitals with his chief secretary in tow to see dilapidated hospital beds, hospitals with no medication, a reality that every citizen has known all along.
He might finally realise there is no water or electricity or that streets are dirty, and all they needed was some smart guy to sort it out.
Or, he orders the destruction of Mbare market stalls, assign someone from the inner circle to rebuild it and make huge money.
All the miseries that confront us come as opportunities. The next stage in the process, where a few cronies are assigned to get the million-dollar tenders. All is good. They see dollar signs in all our misfortunes.
Contracts designed to help us deal with our deplorable situations are dished to the politically-connected. Only “true Zimbabweans” are given the tenders. The rest are unpatriotic, undeserving.
The tenders are aptly prefixed “presidential …” such as presidential goats, presidential boreholes, presidential inputs, now presidential cancer equipment blah blah blah, then you know it is another elaborate scheme in the offing.
The rest of us, migrants from Gokwe, Mutoko, Dotito, Chiendambuya, Tsholotsho, Nkayi (as Tendai Biti would say), and all over the other nameless parts of the country do not qualify. We are less a people. We are not Zimbabwean enough. We do not belong to the priesthood family.
We are being held to ransom.
Our tax coffers are being extravagantly emptied, buying all the glitter that crosses their sight. It is just that we are landlocked, they could be buying themselves multi-million dollar yachts too.
The Mafioso-like kleptomaniacs have turned our beloved country into a mafia state.
The regime is shameless, unscrupulous … whether in this life, or in the next, the “kakistocrats” are very much alive and beyond redemption.
Kapepa is a political activist, social justice and change proponent involved with the Citizens Coalition for Change and its predecessor, the MDC. She writes here in her personal capacity. She can be contacted on [email protected].
