Last Wednesday the state owned Herald newspaper published a letter to the editor titled Demos Against President By Gays A Damp Squib. A ‘damp squib’? I had to remind myself that most of the letters to the editor do not come bearing a title and that they are probably written by a member of the newsroom itself! The writer foremost alleged that the protest was sponsored. Why do the government and all its henchmen think that citizens are incapable of feeling and expressing discontent based on their freewill and volition? The writer went on to suggest that the protesters were people with “small minds that have nothing better to do” and that they had “gathered after being paid a few dollars to attract the attention of the Western community”.

As I read further, I was beginning to visualize a coalition of the GLBT community wielding placards for no reason until I got to the part where the writer volunteered information that the group of protesters were in actual fact human rights activists, farmers, gays and Zimbabweans living in Namibia. Huh? But the title said it was gays only? I was not only shocked at this gross misrepresentation that was obviously meant to mislead the reader, but also the implication that this ‘demo’ was a stage-managed and orchestrated move to give an impression of how much Mugabe is disliked when in fact (according to him) he is not! “Where is he not welcome? This is Africa, not Europe where he is barred.”

Who is this fool trying to fool? One needs to look only just beyond one’s nose to see how much President Mugabe is disliked, whether or not the economic crisis is his fault. The letter writer and the government continue to miss the point. Whether the protest was by gays, cripples or three people, it certainly was a squib, only its effects are yet to be felt.

When it comes to courage, I applaud the actions of gay community because they have been the only ones to attempt to get close enough to the man the majority of people detest, or have openly protested against him without any qualms.

Oh no my brother, there is nothing damp about this squib even if Mugabe and his henchmen choose to turn a blind eye and pretend everything is normal. But I know that deep inside that man’s heart it must really hurt knowing you have created so many enemies. Even if you were made of stone, something will always break inside when you find that wherever you turn, you are protested and demonstrated against.

Last Wednesday I was really pleased with the heavy police presence in the city center. You will have to forgive me for praising an otherwise unfortunate situation but for me this was a day to exhale because with so many police around the street kids went on leave. Especially the little terrorists at the corner Leopold Takawira and Samora Machel Avenue.

If Robert Mukondiwa of Metro Talk (the supplement in the Sunday Mail) had been talking, instead of writing about the menace street kids have become, he would be hoarse by now. Recently he challenged Harare Commission chairperson, Sekesai Makwavarara to go to McAdams (a popular kebab restaurant in the city) on foot and buy a pie, and see if she could make it safely to Herald House. Because many women have been attacked and had her bag, food or necklace snatched by these rascals while our so-called ‘city fathers’ turn a blind eye to it all.

Speaking from personal experience there is one particular street ‘man’ who has taken an unusual and very scary liking to me when I get an omnibus at Parklane. On three occasions he has made a point of spotting me in the crowd along that road and menacingly coming straight at me or following me. On all occasions I have somehow managed to escape his filthy clutches; at one point a car packed with kind gentlemen stopped and they scared him away. At another point I nearly got myself bumped when I suddenly crossed the road just to move out of his path. I have no idea what his intentions are if he succeeds in getting close enough but I’d rather not find out.

Instead of the police flexing their muscles and threatening ordinary citizens under the guise of various ‘operations’, they should put themselves to good use by effectively dealing with these young thugs, maybe under “Operation Go-Away!”? But it honestly looks like the government doesn’t care about the wails of defenseless women in this country. How ironic – with all the fuss and clamor made over the passing of the Domestic Violence Bill, we women are still being abused on the streets of our own country.

As I mentioned earlier, was it merely coincidence that when there was a heavy police presence in town, the street kids were conspicuously absent? Do the police not realize the ‘amazing’ power their mere presence has over street kids? Will anybody do anything about this?

Yesterday I was moved and encouraged by Bev Clark’s call to Act. Organize. Assemble. Oppose. Resist. And I thought I’d share a suggestion for Zimbos (as they call us out there) to stand unified toward a common cause for once.

What’s gotten me going is how the cell phone network providers continue to unapologetically rip us off! How do they justify tariff increases when I receive urgent messages one hour late, or spend the whole day without network (and the network provider does not find it necessary to apologize!)? Also, I make a 20 second call, and I get charged for a full minute! What sheer daylight robbery! WE WANT CALLS CHARGED BY THE SECOND. With inter-network calls on Net One now costing $345 per minute (up from $90), and intra-network calls from Net One to both Econet and Telecel costing $450 (up from $117), has anyone noticed improved service, or has anyone yet managed to make a call and have it go through first time rather than after at least eight attempts during ‘peak period’?

I especially liked Bev’s term: ‘non-compliance‘ rather than engaging in direct action or demonstrations. You will probably agree with me that Zimbabweans have an unparalleled complacency that borders on the irritating. I do not excuse myself from the lot. I figured that since we continue to suffer in silence, passively, we might as well adapt this as a strength: passive resistance. Let’s simply switch off our cell phones. Even if we do this for just an hour we can inflict major losses on the network providers. And at the same time remind them that they’re in business because of us – their customers.

The Lebanese did it, as did Nigeria. I came across an article about a Nigerian consumer boycott written by Jonathan Elendu. Part of it reads

On September 19, 2003, Nigerians were supposed to turn off their cell phones to protest high fees and other problems resulting from using mobile phone service in Africa’s largest and maybe, richest country. The strike was called by the National Association of Telecom Consumers (NATCOM) a consumer advocacy group formed by frustrated cell phone subscribers in Nigeria.

In Beirut, Lebanon, they did it on July 15 of the year 2004 I think. The nation’s consumer union asked everyone to keep their phones off for at least 24 hours to protest the astronomical prices charged by network providers. Lebanon, you see, is a nation of cell phone addicts, and Zimbabwe is slowly but surely becoming that. The people who joined the boycott not only left an indelible mark, but their action prompted the lowering of tariffs, for a short while at least. A sign that the boycott captured the attention of some Lebanese was illustrated by a joke that circulated Lebanese society, about Abou Abed and Abou Staif two men living in Beirut. The two decided to join the boycott, communicating by carrier pigeon all day. But when a pigeon arrived with a blank piece of paper Abou Abed was stumped and finally in frustration used his cell to call Abou Staif. “You Idiot,” Abou Staif says. “That’s a missed call.”

Ha ha ha! But our situation in Zimbabwe is not funny. Why don’t we Zimbabweans recognize the power of collective action and do the same? This would be our chance to show these swindlers who the boss is. A successful cell phone boycott would not only keep thousands of dollars in our pockets, but will also represent a first-of-its-kind attempt at broad civic action to put pressure on the network providers.

Another positive aspect of a boycott – we won’t be charged under POSA for a public demo. Neither will anyone hold us accountable for having switched our phones off! And even if they don’t lower tariffs; I’d still be proud of myself. Wouldn’t you?

“Thousand; thousand kusvika Albion, thousand chete vabereki.” Gotten used to this daily chant by the ‘sliding door operators‘ a.k.a hwindis at Avondale Shopping Centre, I board the omnibus. I unfortunately get the last space available; you know that dreaded last corner of a seat just by the door, the one where the hwindi unceremoniously leans over you. Literally hunkers down on you. I brace myself. Predictably, the moment the door closes, a very strong whiff of stale sweat wafts through the air, and I find my face almost in his armpit – arrgh! This is 7 o’clock in the morning.

The instruction follows that passengers pay their fare, and another distinct smell – halitosis – joins its counterpart in the air around me. I mentally say to myself; there ought to be a law against this, whindis ought to maintain maximum personal health standards given the amount of interpersonal relation they have with passengers.

To make matters worse, I notice that as he busily collects his dues, his crotch is unashamedly settled on my left knee. There is an unusual amount of warmth there and I think to myself, does he honestly not feel that his privies are somewhere out of bounds? To avoid unnecessary talk, I look directly in his face, hoping he’d figure out he is harassing me. Instead, the young fellow in a thick voice commands me to give him my fare. And his foul breath hits me squarely in the face this time.

I obediently but silently take out my one thousand dollars, only to have it thrust back in my face. You may want to refer to my first sentence to understand. Apparently, the fare is now one thousand five hundred. Sound familiar? We never go for longer than three weeks with the same fare. And I think to myself, with a political and economic system gone to the rabid dogs, its no surprise that all checking systems collapse. The Ministry of Transport has no idea and probably doesn’t care about what is going on with passengers. No one seems to want to be responsible for handling and controlling transport operators.

As I am about to again silently and obediently take out another note, one lady in the back speaks out admonishing whindis in general for raising their fares willy-nilly and duping passengers. A debate ensues and tempers rise, and for a moment my five hundred is forgotten. Avondale residents are not troublesome folk I notice. I look around and see those who are not participating in this discussion. They are not bothered, all they want to do is to get to work, whatever it takes.

Completely forgotten, I jump off at Park Lane and say to myself, although none of this is gonna change in a very long time, at least today I saved five hundred.