This homeless man can sometimes be seen shouting at the sky near the traffic lights at Addington Lane. This morning he was sleeping on one of the grass islands on Borrowdale Road – Mugabe’s route to work.

Live the full life of the mind, exhilarated by new ideas, intoxicated by the Romance of the unusual.
- Ernest Hemingway

In addition to our dear spouses
and our allocation of small houses,
we will have an escort in every town,
growth-point and village: novice, hand-me-down,
school girl, slut… whatever takes our fancy.
We will relegate to sties all nancy
boys, to kennels all dykes, who will be cured,
in God’s good time, well and truly skewered,
by patriotic soldiers with long poles.
Sell-outs will be buried in ant bear holes
after overturning, or hitting trees.
All judges will be given factories
to asset-strip; and Generals will get mines,
with free access to anything that shines.
All policemen loyal to the Party
will be allowed to keep their bribes.  Hearty
support will be given to servile priests,
and Russians will be entertained with feasts
using cattle from sycophantic whites:
Rhodies with insatiable appetites
for Four-by-fours, biltong, safari camps,
the nostalgic smell of paraffin lamps.
Aliens will be cast into outer
darkness.  The First Lady will obtain her
beauty products from Harrods and Dubai.
We will encourage white people to die
because it’s only then that we can trust
Blair’s kith and kin. “Eternity or Bust”
Is our slogan.  We affirm that bullets
are mightier than ballots, and true lies
make a nation healthy, wealthy, and wise.
We will double the strength of the forces,
give them live ammunition and horses
to crush traitors who disturb our cities
(especially girls who bare their titties.)
We will not tolerate freedom of speech,
freedom of assembly, freedom of each
and every citizen to criticize
our Excellency: all knowing; strong ties
with North Korea; Africa’s Jesus!
Nations prostrate themselves when he sneezes,
and the world entire is shaken to bits
when Big Boy squats on his people – and shits.

My vision of transition in Zimbabwe all along has been following a model and blueprint of anger and retaliation by the masses like what we noticed in Libya. This however clashed with my utopia of a Gotham Zimbabwe where people could live in harmony within their communities and where the governor respects the governed.

After pondering upon the story within the Anglican Church in Zimbabwe, I also saw my wish being quashed to favour a more Zimbabwean like and dignified but yet painful way (to our adversaries) of making political transition in Zimbabwe.

I felt so touched and at the same time jubilant by the events in the Anglican saga in Zimbabwe. From that moment in December 2012 when Bishop Chad Gandiya held a cleansing ceremony of the cathedral, I have always felt that the same demon that had manifested itself in the church is the same, although with additional tricks, with the one that is currently besieging the political side of our country.

For a new era to be officially declared in Zimbabwe, incense should burn in exactly the same way that happened at Harare cathedral to exorcise a demon and scourge of repression and corruption that had manifested itself in our politicians and held the whole country to ransom for far too long. The overwhelming majority of Zimbabweans are Christians therefore I feel that it will be the right call for the whole nation to come together in unity to pray and cleanse our nation of this decade long totalitarianising evil by a gang of greedy kleptomaniacs.

Romans 12v20-21 clearly teaches us that, “Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.”

“Controlled hysteria is what’s required. To exist constantly in a state of controlled hysteria. It’s agony. But everyone has agony. The difference is that I try to take my agony home and teach it to sing.” — Arthur Miller

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.  – Rilke