I read with some kind of disgust the other day a story about ZESA managers who were fuming because Energy Minister Elton Mangoma had ordered the slashing of their salaries. They actually told the minister it was not his business to question their salaries. I wondered rather blithely if they would have responded with such brashness if this had come from a Zanu PF minister! But then it has become the typical story here where parastatals and state enterprises senior officials have continued to command ridiculous salaries when there is virtually nothing to justify it.

We all know about the mismanagement of these big concerns over the years with accusations that officials were riding on the back of Zanu PF patronage, and where in fact keeping up with the party’s streak of looting state resources. It is here where consciences have been numbed as the plundering of resources has rendered these state utility providers a huge burden on tax and rate payers with no service provision to speak of. So a minister who comes through with a broom to sweep the rot naturally becomes the bad guy because the logic is simple: no one ever complained before, and simply because – as some have claimed – these officials have been political appointees.

We read each time how South African government ministers are ever vigilant cracking the whip on unnecessary perks for officials who appear to think working for government is a sure way to bleed the purse. What then is amiss with Mangoma putting caps on salaries, or at least demanding that they get performance-based salary increments? Makes sense to me. We heard even from Ignatius Chombo the other week when he demanded a salary cap for Town Clerks where in some cases these municipality CEOs are reported to be earning monthly salaries of up to USD15,000.

Surely these salaries must be justified, and for a long time these people have been getting absurd perks that are not even based on performance, which reminds one of those US CEOs who run loss-making corporations but at the end of the year award themselves multi-million dollar bonuses, of course much to the chagrin of shareholders. Indeed Zimbabwe is in dire need of ministers who will put a stop to this nonsense.

There is a restaurant in my neighbourhood, a cosmopolitan sort of place, which I visit more often than my budget allows. I love the food, and the seemingly bottomless glasses of wine have been the beginning of many happy evenings. While the food and the drink are good, the service is often slow and sometimes nonexistent. Having been largely ignored by the black waiters one too many times, my drinking buddies have chosen to avoid it. The waiters are racist they say.

On a visit to the post office to pick up a long awaited parcel, I had to wait my turn in a short queue for the one man behind the counter. A few moments after I arrived, a woman walked in with her daughter, fresh from the afternoon school run. Rather than going to the back of the queue, the woman went to the window next to the one occupied by the single postal worker and demanded that he serve her because she was in a hurry. This he did, to my surprise, without complaint. Everyone in the queue looked at each other and murmured ‘mtch! varungu vanonetsa..‘ under their breath and waited restlessly.

I remember a form three class discussion regarding race. The black girls said the white girls smelt funny, and the white girls said we smelt funny to them too. We asked what the fascination with Marmite sandwiches was, and they asked if deep down, really deep down, we wanted to be white because we put extensions in our hair. There was no anger in that conversation, just a group of girls trying to understand each other.

I wonder sometimes, if at independence in Zimbabwe, we had confronted our issues regarding race, would we still be trying to sidestep the obvious white elephant three decades later? We’re all careful around each other, tiptoeing, trying not to tell that joke, or saying that thing. But in private, in a safe space where we are certain people share the same sentiments and feelings as we do, the gloves come off.  Race is not a polite thing to talk about in mixed company, but I think it’s time we started.

Visiting this year’s Processed Products Fair at the Harare show grounds rekindled some experiences I had in my late grandmother’s hut (kitchen). A small hut located in Chivi, warm and filled with love. The last time I was there was when I was still in primary school just before she passed on. The meals were not my favourite at that time. I always wanted to have some rice rather than any of those dried vegetables.

Back then I used to think that eating traditional foods like ‘sadza nemfushwa’ (sadza with dried vegetables) was a sign of poverty and that the food coffers were running dry. Only now do I understand the nutritional richness of these foods I once despised. Traditional meals contain the nutrients that we need whether one is living with the HIV virus or not. Many families in Zimbabwe are operating on shoestring budgets, opting to process their own traditional foods and eating these in the home, helping to cushion strained financial budgets.

The Processed Products Fair organised by a network of nine NGOs comes in handy in this day and age where most of the people of our generation do not know how to cook delicious traditional recipes. At the fair you can see the raw agricultural products, the processed product together with the recipe and, you’re allowed to taste! And if the food tickles your taste buds you can buy the raw products on sale and try cooking for the rest of the family at home.

Where is a more complex narrative on Africa asks Saratu Abiola writing for Pambazuka News. According to Saratu, this years Caine Prize short list leaves a lot to be desired.

Here’s an excerpt:

Writers write. Readers have opinions. It’s really that simple. One has a right to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and churn out just whatever (s)he pleases. I certainly did not like Hitting Budapest, a plotless story that does not seem to have a point beyond “these kids are poor and live squalidly and you should pity them”, but I do not really care about Bulawayo; she can write whatever she wants. I’m madder at the Caine Prize for seeming to favor stories of a particular strain, the ones that are less about characters and the network of trip-wires that make up their humanity and more about flattening characters to render them tools to make a political point, and absolving them from the basic responsibilities that come with writing a good story. I’m madder at them for not asking for complexity, and buying into an oversimplified narrative of Africa – poverty, war, disease, starving/fighting children — just like most Western media does. I’m madder at the Caine for saying that this collection of stories is the best they could get out of Africa. I’m mad because I and so many people out there know that that is not true. More

We need more writers like Chris Kabwato. Every week he shares a refreshing and provocative take on Something. This week it’s leadership. Seen any in Zimbabwe lately? Thought not.

In search of a leader

AN ANCIENT text tells me the following:

A man will seize one of his brothers at his father’s house and say “You have a cloak, you be our leader; take charge of this heap of ruins.” But in that day he will cry out, “I have no remedy…do not make me the leader of the people.”

Now I am hoping as Zimbabweans we shall not end up having to choose a leader of the basis of what English writer Thomas Hardy’s observation that “aspects are within us, and who seems most kingly is the king”. I mean could we choose someone walking down Samora Machel Avenue to lead us just because we liked that person’s beige suit, purple shirt and matching tie.  Surely we demand much more of those that would lead us?

In all the current heat around who is and is not a leader we should confront the frightening reality that we face a dearth of leadership in all spheres – politics, business, religion, civil society and the unions. We remain underwhelmed by a leadership that is divisive, uninspiring, confusing, contradictory and unstrategic. Where then is the leadership that will understand that Africa is on the brink of a fundamental economic and social transformation and thus will make those earth-shattering vision statements that will galvanise us towards a common cause? Where is the leadership that will make us re-imagine Zimbabwe? Who will rise above the bigotry of patriarchy, tribalism and racism?

Those that wish to lead should put their houses in order and those homes are the political parties, government, the private sector, the universities and colleges, the unions, the civil society organisations, the churches and the student movement.

In our political parties there is no culture of robust debate – that necessary contestation of ideas that moves a nation forward. You read through manifestos and congress resolutions and you are amazed at the hotchpotch of uncritical statements strung together in the language of overzealous college students. You listen to their message and you wonder at the lack of coherence. In the case on one party how are they able to issue four different statements on a single issue? Does anyone there understand Communication 101? Or just the basic principle of disciplining the message? But is there a coherent message in the first place?

Civil society’s debacles at the SADC summit last month should have provided an occasion for a frank re-assessment of our supposed collective vision. There we were in Sandton chasing one whisky after the other – waiting for the superheroes to come from Harare and give direction. Those sent ahead had no clue where to begin. Needless to say the end-result was a Tower of Babel – a symphony of cacophony that exposed the faultlines in our supposed single goal of creating a democratic Zimbabwe.

For now it is back to what we know best – self-aggrandisement, grandstanding, competition for resources, duplication of efforts and the usual 3-year strategies tied to donor strategies. Still there is a slight possibility that those activists that still have any principles will ask how we it will be possible to give birth to a new reality when we are locked into constantly shifting external funding strategies. How can we change the political, economic and social edifice of Zimbabwe when we have no sustainable frameworks that inform our vision beyond parroting the usual refrains of good governance outside of the wider context?

On the other hand, I do not know how many young people in civil society today would say they are being mentored or groomed for leadership. Many wallow under the tyranny of the founder-director – of people who are so insecure they see conspirators in every nook. We have chairpersons of organisations who assume executive powers and destroy the potential of people. We have appointed directors of organisations who could never be able to organize a birthday party for a three year old that wishes to invite six friends.

In business we confront the usual same old clique – brilliant at managing businesses they inherited and not great at fostering creativity and innovation. They shout from the rooftop on how the state should protect their shoddy products and services from foreign competition. They don’t invest in the ideas of a younger generation – there is, after all, golf, whisky and “small houses” to take care of. To add salt to injury, those that we thought represented a new generation of entrepreneurs have turned out to be merely a little bit more sophisticated in their thieving than your regular pickpocket at Mbare Musika.

If Charles Mzingeli, that gallant trade unionist of the 1930’s to 50s were to rise from the grave what would he say about the state of trade unionism in our teapot-shaped nation? Would he use the same excuses of decimation of the worker base and the ravages of the last decade to explain the retreat by the unionists from their historical role and giving up space to political and educated elites? Would Mzingeli see in the perennial schism of elites and workers the very battle he had against nationalist leaders like George Nyandoro?

In grappling with the challenge of producing leaders and ensuring there is a successor generation we have tried the route of leadership academies, of books and more books on the subject (Deepak Chopra, Rudy Giuliani, Bismarck, even Alex Ferguson) and countless one day events where you pay top dollar to be told what you already knew. Some have remained in the trenches – the unions and the student movement. But the question remains nagging: where are the fruits of that knowledge and experience?

We need kenge “superheroes” and superheroes to come of their hiding places and speak their minds without fear of being labelled by powerful elites.

Leaders should lead.

South Africa has produced its first all-black pornographic movie, which film-makers say is intended to help promote safe sex and combat HIV. Mapona – which means Naked in SeSotho – was made in response to demand from the 30,000 members of an amateur porn site, Sondeza, who complained about the dearth of local black talent in X-rated movies. More