Many years ago in a little German town called Hamelin, the people had a terrible problem of rats. They were everywhere – in the streets, houses, beds and even baby cots. The mayor and his people were stumped. One day the Pied Piper came along and said he could deal with the rat problem, if the Mayor would pay a huge sum of money. The mayor agreed. So the Pied Piper played his pipes and all the rats gathered, followed him out of Hamelin and fell off a cliff. When it was time to cough up, the mayor balked. So the Pied Piper played another tune and this time, all the children followed him and never returned.

The story of the Pied Piper might just be folklore, but in a little town called Harare, in a country where the economy is dysfunctional and politicians make empty promises, people are generally preoccupied with daily survival and keeping body and soul together above all else. Crucial social services like garbage collection and disposal are neglected, sometimes to the detriment of the people concerned. As street corners pile up with garbage, a new menace has surfaced and its kind has an unparalleled reproductive ability.

They are everywhere, living and rummaging in the corners where we store our garbage, occupying private spaces and threatening to invade our homes as their numbers grow exponentially in direct response to the piling rubbish. Hundreds of them are being born each day threatening to colonize and congest our cities as well as spread disease. Their exaggerated shapes and sizes have made the once ordinary rodents almost unrecognizable. The little nocturnal creatures now shamelessly dart across alleys in broad daylight; have become resistant to most common traditional poisons and have grown less and less fearful of man. They have become a silent but perilous plague that threatens our very lives, yet a lot of us are oblivious to the real dangers presented by rats. Because of their tendency to live where we live, rats are an effective agent of disease transmission. We have been unaware of the risks of catching all sorts of diseases and some awful things from this vermin. A single rat by itself is unimpressive and each time I spot one, I am reminded of the infamous bubonic plague which wiped out whole communities and half the populations of Europe and Asia circa the 1300s.

While piles of rubbish continue to compete for space on street corners and open spaces, street cleaning and inspection systems have gone to the dogs and cutbacks in pest control expenditure and increases in takeaway food shop and food litter have consequently contributed to the dramatic increase in the thriving rat population that has become very comfortable guests in our backyards.

Where I live in the avenues, the problem of rats in the alleys has become a seriously worrying risk to public health because of garbage that goes uncollected for weeks.  Visiting the communal garbage corner in my yard is a frightening experience. Fearless rats the size of cats dominate the area to the extent that nobody bothers to deposit their garbage properly into the metal bins anymore. The way to do it now is to stand a few feet away, take aim, and then smash and run. Just behind this space is an open playground where the children run around all day and play – care free; their parents oblivious to the impending danger just beyond the wall. They are all exposed to the risk of catching rat-bite fever – a systemic bacterial illness that can be passed on from rodents to humans. All it takes is one bite or a scratch from a rodent. Ingestion of food or water contaminated with rat excreta or urine also causes deadly types of food poisoning whose symptoms can certainly not pretty.

At the corner of Fife Avenue and 5th Street in the Avenues, there is a huge rubbish dump container the size of a space ship that is eternally overflowing with rotting garbage coming from the adjacent supermarkets. The air in that whole area has literally become oppressively rotten and unbreathable. The shops should be taking better responsibility in careful disposal of rubbish and cleaning up after themselves. However there is currently no enforcement, but it would be gratifying to see some huge fines imposed for careless rubbish dumping especially by corporate companies.

The city council has sometimes justifiably been blamed for not providing bins. In the not too distant past, every street corner was occupied by rubbish bins that were constantly emptied. Many corporate businesses used to even donate branded bins to the city in those days. I am not sure if this is no longer a lucrative marketing gimmick or billboards are just the new favorite. Nowadays, it is not surprising to cut across the city centre without ever bumping into a bin. I have too often experienced the little annoyance of carrying around a banana peel hoping to find a bin soon then finally being forced to deposit it into my backpack because I’m just not gifted with the ability to litter.

We need to go back to basics on public health before this thing goes out of control, that’s the small price to pay or we will soon cry foul after the Pied Piper has left town with our kids in tow. It is our responsibility to make sure our neighbor doesn’t throw rubbish on pavements; if government is too preoccupied to put in place fines, enforce sanitary laws and improve efforts to collect and dispose of trash. The starting point for a coordinated approach needed is for us as citizens to realize our duty to practice good sanitation. It is the only rat proofing technique and we might even consider adopting traditional ways of disposing garbage by digging dirt pits in our backyards and other places where rubbish dumping occurs. If we are prepared to dig boreholes in urban Harare for clean supply of water, we should have no problem digging rubbish pits for waste disposal to ensure our health before the rats, flies, mosquitoes and all other vermin imaginable gain in on us.

My visit to Johannesburg recently brought back memories of my mother, oddly enough, watching the construction that was taking place – the longsuffering looks on the strained faces of drivers who have long resigned themselves to being daily inconvenienced by the activities taking place to spruce up the city before the world comes charging in.

I was reminded of similar days when the family was expecting some important guest and the whole house would be turned upside down and we would be exiled outside with strict orders to steer clear of mama and her broomstick.
I always resented the disruption such visits brought to our lives – there would be the shifting of bedrooms and suddenly I would find myself sleeping on the floor while the ‘dignitary’ enjoy the luxury of my single bed and the comfort of mama’s best sheets and bed linen.

I somehow got the distinct impression that the average South African is hard pressed not to grumble at the inconvenience that the 2010 is bringing as the powers that be pull all the stops to present a sparkling clean image when America, Europe and the rest of the world descends upon them.

And all the while the media keeps harping on about the great ‘opportunities’ that 2010 presents to South Africans as a way of placating them, no doubt – in much the same way my mother used to gain our cooperation to be on our best behaviour by reminding us that the visitors would mean a delectable menu of dishes would be served.

Of course she would neglect to inform us that we would have to settle for the mouth-watering aromas that would waft towards our rooms to which we were confined – out of sight – while the VIPs were served in the family living room and even now I don’t know which was worse – missing my favourite TV shows or having leftovers when I had been promised a scrumptious meal.
So it is with the majority of South Africans whose cooperation has been bought by cleverly worded campaigns, messages, logos and slogans assuring them that they would all have a piece of the 2010 action.

The sad truth however, is that for many South Africans, the World Cup will not translate to any meaningful change in their lives – it will not bring them running water, it will not substitute candles for the brilliance of florescent light, it will not put food on their tables, or clothe their children’s backs or even turn their shacks into concrete palaces.

Recently after interviewing women at the various markets in Johannesburg with the aim of writing a story on how enthusiastic, excited and hopeful they were about capitalizing on 2010 Tanzanian journalist, Angel Navuri met with tales of woe.

“Food vendors cannot take the food to the stadiums because they have been forbidden to go there. It is certain that beneficiaries will be the big hotels, tour operators, and those who already have money will make more money. And the small traders have been excluded from engaging in any economic activity that would have seen them making any significant gains through the 2010,” reported Navuri.

Is it always the case that in order to be hospitable one must, for a time anyway, place the welfare of strangers ahead of their own family, or country men? What is that thing they say about charity beginning at home?
As a child I struggled to reconcile this tendency of being pushed to the periphery whenever more ‘special’ people deigned to visit us with being loved or appreciated in the family.

I mean I seemed pretty dispensable back then and the whims of those visitors took precedence over my needs making me wonder if mama perhaps loved them more than she did me.

But those were childhood musings, as a woman I have grown to resent the hypocrisy that forces us to always ‘keep up appearances’ going so far as to disown, reject and hurt our own.

So whose 2010 is it anyway?

It’s certainly not the market trader’s because they have been told to steer clear of the stadiums (we wouldn’t want the visitors to see them because they’re too plain and might mar the exquisite stadium facilities) instead space will be created to accommodate the fancy restaurants with gourmet chefs and first class menus.

It won’t be the fruit or airtime vendor because they would make the stadiums look shabby and the visitors cannot be expected to put up with the sight of people walking up and down earning an honest living – they can get airtime at the hotels or their taxi drivers can ferry them to the nearest state of the art shopping mall where they will be spared the ugly sights of Johannesburg’s filth lined dark alleys.

School will be closed for the whole month and people will be expected to put their lives on hold while the powers that be pander to the wishes of the Western visitors whose arrival will be expected to leave Joburg awash with freshly minted pounds, dollars, euros and francs amongst other currencies.

And the so called job opportunities and job creation resulting from the 2010 preparations smack of my mother’s subterfuge exaggerating the benefits that would accrue to us if we put up with a ‘little’ discomfort to make room for our esteemed guests.

Asked about how excited (who wouldn’t be right?) the women traders were about all the money they stood to make from foreign clients in 2010; one of them identified only as ‘Mama Ice’ retorted: “This World Cup will come for only 28 days out of a whole year. We have already been told that we are not wanted at the stadiums by the municipality and we hear this FIFA of theirs has standards and we are not good enough for them so what has 2010 got to do with us?”

And they will not be the only ones finding themselves looking in from the outside while the World Cup passes them by as African journalists may very well find themselves playing second fiddle to foreign sports reporters who will be better equipped, better sponsored and probably given preferential treatment ahead of Africans who are after all ‘family’ and can make room for the ‘guests’ – but that’s a story for another day.

Over dinner on the weekend, the conversation turned to how different this year has felt from the past few.

Of course, the difference is tinged with a mixture of relief and frustration. Economically, the relief of stable (even if high) prices, and goods (even when unaffordable) on the shelves has made the basic day-to-day requirements of getting by more predictable – but at the same time has made for a more expensive – and therefore even more tenuous – existence for many.

Politically, the negotiated settlement has left Zimbabweans increasingly outside a decision-making process that is run by politicians for their own interests. A recent report by the Research and Advocacy Unit condemned the constitution making process as “make believe politics,” in which the citizenry is increasingly left out. People spoke of an unfortunate fatigue with and disengagement from politics.

We spoke a bit about what “real change” would look like for each of us, a bit like the “what would you like in a new Zimbabwe” idea. One person spoke up immediately, and adamantly, against presidential portraits. For him, a new Zimbabwe would be one in which people took the portraits of Mugabe off their walls, and never put them back. He recalled being in China some 10 years ago, and seeing Mao’s official portrait redone as a table mat – simply, subtly and tastefully captioned with the words “I didn’t change. But China is changing.” He recalled his surprise at seeing something so controversial so openly displayed. Mugabe – and the rest of our politicians – might not be changing. But Zimbabwe is changing.

From a Kubatana subscriber:

Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA)’s bills are really worrying urban residents.  The rates being charged by ZESA are too far beyond resident’s earnings and too difficult to pay by the end of the month.  Can the responsible Ministry look into this issue and save the already suffering people of Zimbabwe. People are ailing to meet these bills and worse that there is no improvement in power supply in residential areas. Can the responsible people consider this and set charges that can be managed by people taking into consideration what people earn.

If only Zimbabwe had a free press and politicians who could handle some fun poked at them. Compare our media environment with South Africa’s where Nandos have just launched an ad campaign that focuses on South Africa’s “shameless ministerial gravy train“. Any chance of Wimpy doing the same here? Fat chance.

Ethan Zuckerman writing on his blog My Heart’s in Accra got me interested in a New York Times article entitled Taint of Corruption Is No Barrier to U.S. Visa. Apparently Teodoro Nguema Obiang, the agriculture minister of Equatorial Guinea and the son of its ruler, has a $35 million estate in Mailbu, California.

Ethan reflected as follows

As the New York Times reported this weekend, the strong evidence that Obiang is systematically looting his nation’s treasury hasn’t prevented him from getting US visas and visiting his estate several times a year. So why does Obiang get to play in Malibu while Robert Mugabe is forced to live it up in Hong Kong? According to the US State Department officials quoted in Ian Urbina’s New York Times story, the answer is simple: Zimbabwe doesn’t have oil, while Equatorial Guinea does.