Jamwanda on Saturday
I hate to say, I told you! Yet I did, well before our Harmonised Elections. Maybe I said it amidst the cacophony of campaigning, thus getting drowned in the process. The mayhem in the structureless, constitution- and hierarchy-free Triple C is nothing new or untoward.
Certainly nothing sudden or unexpected. Not even tragic or undesirable if you ask me. What is tragic and even potentially dangerous is the bigotry and fundamentalism which seize pro-Chamisa sections of our Political Society. There is a certain level of denialism and bended truth in them which one finds unsettling.
Until now, I had no use or referent, for what nowadays is called post-truth. Now I do.
There is this obduracy, this tenacious and fastidious clinging to fanaticism in Triple C supporters which one finds quite alarming. I battle it every day in these wireless streets which Musk has let loose upon the world, setting off all humanity on journey to nowhere.
I hope I don’t sound like some Luddite innately opposed to the forward-marching, techni-savvy mankind. Whether it is by scriptures or sheer Chamisa charisma – Chasma – Nelson’s brand of demagogic politics is giving this Nation some political personality type which sees, hears, speaks, no shortcomings in our politicians.
We have hit that no-return threshold where we say, my politician right of wrong! This is a perfect beginning for a conversation between the deaf and the mute.
After a long spell of wielding ill-gotten power, Chamisa now faces seething political conventicles from which rival politics are now forming. And as is typical of all those upon whose person and in whose head the dogma of infallibility holds sway, all those conventicles are driven by heresies, with all those participating in them mere heretics.
And heresies and heretics are punished by fire at stakes, as happened during 14th Century Inquisitions. The next headline in the coming weeks is summary dismissal of Tendai Biti and Welshman Ncube, alongside their political sidekicks. Kick me if that won’t come to pass. Sooner!
It didn’t need a genius to know that in his short, brutal reign – and he aptly calls himself Nero! – Chamisa literally walked past carrion of victims whose dual sins where: One, to have been politically born his contemporary; Two, was to have better intellect than his at a time this was made sacrilege.
So he went on a contrapuntal drive: to flatten peers, while turning toddlers into grown up men and women. And of course to burn all rules, compacts, structures and hierarchy so he could once more navigate and shape a featureless demesne! Thereafter Triple C ran on the Emperor’s whim and caprice, and was governed by his unilateral clemency.
I am angry with such like Welshman Ncube, Tendai Biti and Mhofu Hwende. By virtue of being young Chamisa’s preceptors, they were near and aware enough to know him, warts and all! They knew his mediocrities, inborn and from poor cultivation.
Yet like Chamisa’s young, impressionable fanatics, grown-up men watched, groaned, endured, while hoping and waiting for a miraculous born-again. And with every day of neglectful inaction, Chamisa’s excesses, compounded by acute mediocrities and insecurities, grew bolder, bigger and blunter.
Today Biti belatedly talks of “a mess”; Welshman Ncube talks of “amatope”! Hau bakithi! Both now belong to some Brenthurst-financed Marova Committee, which gives them an illusion of a life after Chamisa’s pogrom. Good luck to both. Except I find it rather strange that even after all these years, both men are yet to see the wisdom of re-invent opposition politics away from foreign tutelage! Maybe I am only a donkey! Herald
