Did my red-pinkie sell me out?
Getting feedback like this is what makes me love what I do:
Nothing feels more refreshing than dipping your pinkie in that tub of red ink. I have done it three times in the last five years and (boast about it) and every time I enter the booth, I feel like taking a leak. As odd as that sounds, the notion of representational democracy does have that effect on me. It takes me back to the words the rulers of Aragon (in Spain and not a Tolkein-esque creation) who made an oath when crowning a king. It so went “You, who is no better than us; who are no better than you – make you king to us, to govern by our rules and to live by our law and if not, then NO”.
I liked the anarchic vibe of the oath and believe it can be applied to Zimbabwe. You cannot die wielding supreme executive power because you and a few people around you want things that way. You are not better than anyone!
Anyone who so fills your shoes cannot make the same notion fit their fancies, they are no better than you and the rest of us are no better because we are all human who thrive to satisfy basic needs and wants just as a leader wants.
I left the booth knowing the decision I had made was right, regardless if any cameras were watching me. They are machines without soul and without mind; all they do is watch!
I carried out what is now my tradition – smoke the only cigarette until the next polls and take a tour of every polling station in my constituency. The same vibe echoed throughout the HW, only just until I reached one JOMIC – monitored polling station. As I walked toward the queue to greet a friend, a policeman halted me and told me “We do not want loiterers here. Go away!”
Did my red-pinkie sell me out?
Was this what representational democracy had come to?
I trotted off, the little pig I was, greedy and trying hard to play in the mud that I was disillusioned to. Just another Zimbabwean Election with words hovering around it (rig, watershed and harmonised are firm favourites!) and at that precise moment, like a small cartoon pig that got knocked on the head by a wolf’s knobkerrie, butterflies hovered around my head.
Sad as I was, I got to the shop and bought a box of cigarettes to smoke the next hour, day, week away. “Observation is no crime”. I wondered what Fela Kuti would say if he were ever to be an Election Observer in Zimbabwe.