Feeling disillusioned and alienated and the sense of belonging to an entity called Zimbabwe is fast fading. We have now had three consecutive elections that don’t seem to be helping in resolving the problems the nation has been facing for the past decade. If nobody bothers to respect the outcome of an election why then continue investing in such kind of a democracy? Isn’t it elections are supposed to help us resolve the great questions of our day, so that once one side of the argument wins, we can let it guide our decisions until the people feel the need for a change in direction? Alluding to everything and pretending to be enjoying every bit that comes with the election aftermath is now normal coping strategy as we continue to do soul searching on the direction the country is heading. For how long we will hold on depends on the men with the reigns over the mighty forces of the land.

“The peasant who cast his vote on July 31 created my victory. I am at his service. I am his emissary and servant.” Robert Mugabe

So does that mean we can all queue up at his mansion in Borrowdale with our empty buckets and get some water? Please.

From a rural subscriber:

 is continuing, this time severely.Two weeks ago people were forced to contribute towards Heroes Day celebrations in rural areas & now it is contributions towards the inauguration of the local headman. Are celebrations forced to be contributed towards or it is someone’s wish? Rural people have suffered much yet they struggle to get money. Who will liberate them from the scavenging leaders?

Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again. – Chelsea Fagan, How We Let People Go

The first night a large bull visited us at supper
delicately stepping the narrow space between us and our drinks table
we sat motionless, breathless,
as he examined the mugs with his trunk
and picked seeds off the table

for the next 3 days they were a daily presence
quietly visiting each one of us
close enough for us to see the hairs on the back of their feet
their eyelashes
immense bulks reaching for leaves over our heads
close enough for us to watch the infinite gracefulness of their trunks
selecting seed pods around our chairs

and we knew a deep sense our own vulnerability
and the incredible gift we were being given
standing here at the edge
where our unquestioned control of the world is reduced to the flick of a trunk
our small worries of arrangements and agreements
are of nothing
in this wide wilderness of the Zambezi valley

we were told they had never been this close before

it felt as if they were learning us…
what did they think
as they smelt our cups?
tasted our shoes?

do they know we are the ones
who are playing havoc with their world
bringing our fuel exhausts and plastic and bottles
invading this wild place
slowly making it into our play ground

we stand at the edge of the wilderness
both the problem and the worshiper
awed by the generosity of its sharing
and the gentleness of these wild giants