The emperor has new clones

IT turns out that Mugabe's latest stroke of economic genius – Operation Dzikisa Mitengo - is not very original.
It appears he has cloned an idea first used back in AD 301, by some Roman emperor called Diocletian.
Faced with hyperinflation, Diocletian ordered that merchants halve their prices. He then set maximum prices for a range of basic goods. Death awaited those that defied the decree.
A succession of Roman emperors, each eager to have their own mug stamped on coins, had minted coins with abandon. This was worsened by what one account says were “politically motivated confiscations of property”.
And, eager to buy loyalty, Diocletian minted more coins. This stoked hyperinflation and confidence in the currency plunged.
After a series of attempted reforms – including changing the currency – the emperor finally stood on top of the highest available pedestal and proclaimed what has come to be known as the “Edict on Maximum Prices”.
This order, after cutting prices by half, slapped a price cap on over a thousand goods – from sausages to lions. But instead of taming inflation as hoped, the controls only managed to drive goods onto the black market and create shortages.
Merchants - your Roman version of Spar and some such modern day sneaky usurpers - were blamed for the inflation. And, get this, those that criticised the move were accused of working, as they say in Zimbabwe today, “in cahoots” with the Barbarians, tribes opposed to the emperor.
Threatened with death – they had a variety of interesting methods of execution then, if you watch movies – the merchants were also forbidden to trade elsewhere at higher prices.
However, the Edict did not end the crisis, as Diocletian's mass minting of coins continued to drive inflation, and the maximum prices in the Edict were set too low.
Merchants either stopped production, turned to the black market, or switched to barter.
There a few of the Roman parallels that President Robert Mugabe should perhaps worry about; the shortages that have already begun to bite, and the inevitable fact that Zimbabwe’s more prosperous neighbours will be shaking their heads as they watch the neighbourhood bum rummaging through the bins.
But it is Diocletian’s fate, following his crackdown, that is intriguing.
After his price cuts failed, the emperor lost power, and was banished to the margins of the empire, from where he grew cabbages for the remainder of his life.
And so Mugabe's opponents wait...

The plot sickens!

So what are we to make of this latest coup plot?

If the reported coup is to be believed, right now, Emmerson Mnangagwa should have been president of this glorious nation and Robert Mugabe and the missus would be on forced vacation somewhere on an island in Bali, perhaps windsurfing, maybe frolicking on the white beach, or even clubbing, celebrating being at last rid of the thankful burden of leading 12million gormless morons.

Six men have appeared in a Zim court. It's supposed to be a coup, so it's all cloak-and-dagger, and the gang has appeared in court "in-camera" - which means the court is cleared of all riff-raff and the top cops and all the top spies are the only lot allowed in. No journos and no on-lookers.

Albert Matapo (40), a former army captain, Shingirai Mutemachani (20), a private, Nyasha Zivuku, Oncemore Mudzurahowa (41), Emmanuel Marara (40), and Patson Mapfure (46) are the coup plotters, we are told.

"We have documentation which was discovered at the venue of the meeting," says prosecutor Lawrence Phiri, "it clearly shows how these men were to carry out the coup. They had code-named the plot Operation 1940 (huh?). Other documents also show how they would recruit military personnel who would then be used in this coup."

So who is this Matapo guy who wants our dear leader out? He runs a tour company called Gestawalt, according to one report. In 2004, he was subject of some sniffing by the UK Home Office after someone ratted out a racket he is alleged to have run with his wife, Grace (oh, the coincidence), helping Zanu PF members to claim political asylum.

So how would some two-dollar wiseguy running a small-time alleged immigration racket suddenly become the mastermind of a grand, elaborate plot to oust one of the world's most formidable rulers? And what kind of coup plotters meet in a seedy office, smack in the middle of the CBD, plotting our President's downfall? (ok, ok, Brutus did meet up with his co-conspirators smack in the middle of Rome by night, but look how that turned out).

Of course we can dismiss all this off hand. Remember back in '95, when a hired gun, on Ndabaningi Sithole's payroll we were told, is said to have hidden up a tree with a faulty AK47, ready to spray Mugabe's motorcade with lead? And the lot in Mutare two years ago, who planned to spice up Mugabe's February 21 speech with a hail of bullets, thwarted only by our alert secret service at the last minute?

So, is this an elaborate ploy by one camp of Zanu PF to smear cow poo over the other? How will Emmerson react to all this "stupidity", as he called it?

But then, what if this isn't one of those infantile plots? What if this lot was dead serious, but just hopelessly incompetent, or much scarier, just stark raving mad? Does this mean that, driven by bitterness and poverty, any bunch of clueless morons, could be Dynamos or Hghlanders fans, for all anybody knows, can gather in a room, discuss a few wacky plots, and wake up the next morning transformed into fearsome plotters of top level espionage, with their very arrest having to be kept under wraps lest the streets be overrun by panicking poor Zimbos stocking up on supplies pending the bloody overthrow of this hugely popular government by a former army captain and visa scammer running a strugggling tour company called Gestawalt?

Crouching bureaucrat, hidden elephant

Inflation’s emerging phenomenon

WHAT do you do when you’re living in some tiny mud-and-pole hut, and you’re trying to hide a bull elephant?
Maybe the Zimbabwe government has the answer. They tried it recently, but their elephant – April’s shock inflation data – still came charging out, a bunch of government securocrats and state media spin types frantically trying to pull it back by the tail.
Journalists from no less than two private newspapers and at least two international news agencies working in Harare contacted the Central Statistical Office (CSO), hoping to get the April inflation figures.
By then, the data had already been delayed by a week. All the journalists – plus a good number of private economists we have asked – were, as late as 1700hrs that Wednesday, fed the line: “Maybe tomorrow”.
So the rumour that inflation had indeed breached 3000 percent, and that it was in fact peeking at 4000 percent, remained just that, a rumour. Until the next day.
On the Thursday, many looked past The Herald’s front page screamer: “President Mugabe approves Incomes Act”.
But, there were some readers who gritted their teeth and waded through the story – plodding through 23 paragraphs and four full broadsheet columns – only to stumble upon this absolute gobsmacker: “The much awaited (incomes) body comes as it emerged (author’s emphasis) yesterday that the consumer price index rose 100.7 percent in April, meaning prices more than doubled last month, and this followed a 50.5 percent increase in March.”
Then to paragraph number 25.
“The corresponding annual inflation rate at the end of April,” we are casually told, “rose to 3713.9 percent.”
By all accounts, this is the first time in our country’s glorious history that inflation data is said to have “emerged”. Until last week, inflation figures were said to have been “released”, sometimes “showed”, or even “reported”, by the CSO.
So, disappointed that the CSO had given us their “maybe tomorrow” only to see the figures “emerge” the next day – under a pile of, it must be said, uninspiring news of a law against inflation, we went about this week trying to find out why the rules have changed such that inflation numbers should only now “emerge”, and not be “released”.
First, we contacted Sylvester Nguni, Economic Development Minister. His ministry recently took over the CSO from Finance. He swore he had been told by CSO that the figures had been released to “the press” much earlier than the Wednesday.
But then there were other officials in the same ministry who swear they had seen the CSO printout as early as the previous Thursday – May 11. But, apparently, somebody has instructed that all CSO data should no longer come directly from CSO, but through Information and Publicity.
So, these government conspiracy theorists swear, it was agreed that the gory data be kept in a bottle until the President signed the Incomes and Pricing Commission Act – a law setting up a pricing police.
So in the end, it is claimed, it was not from the CSO that the inflation numbers “emerged”, it was out of a labyrinth of red tape – each deskbound bureaucrat taking their turn to slap a pudgy stamp over the numbers – until they truly did “emerge” at The Herald.
Implausible theory? Perhaps, but hands up if you ever seen inflation figures “emerging”, even in Borat’s sick vision of Kazakhstan, or Gerbunguly Berdimuhammedow’s Turkmenistan, where presidents are elected on 98 percent vote majorities.
Must we now prepare to see inflation figures going the way of other bits of economic statistics that government has, over the years, quietly stopped supplying the market? Hands up if you know Zimbabwe’s real jobless rate, or if you’ve never had to work out the real budget deficit on your own, or if you’ve ever seen the current account.
There is a scary trend “emerging” here. Last month, March data was canned for two weeks until central bank boss Gideon Gono let it out in Bulawayo. This time, April inflation only “emerged” as background to a story on a new law.
What’s next? An official declaration banning the release of a number that government, quite clearly, no longer wants anybody to see?
What is it our ancestors said about “that which has horns” not being possible to wrap? And at 3714 percent, these are not horns. They are ten-foot tusks.

Caveman's guide to living without electricity

Now that Zimbabwe's power supplier, Zesa, has announced a tough schedule of power cuts, we must look to the caveman of old for guidance through the darkness.
The Zesa schedule could mean some households having power for only four hours a day, between 5pm and 9pm. We had becomes so accustomed to electricity it’s become impossible to imagine life without switches and remote control buttons.
But this is Zanu PF's crooked idea of a modern Zimbabwe; they will turn back the hands of modernity if they think the world would then leave Zim alone.
So, we must look to our ancestors for tips on surviving without power.
First, the water. This week, large parts of Harare had no water after some wise guy cut off power to Morton Jaffray water works. A timely warning that while we sacrifice modern life for three months to water our wheat, taps will run dry
So if you cannot afford a water tank – or any of that tap water the stores shamefully pass off as mineral water to naïve customers – then it’s down to the river for you, just like in the dark ages. Picture them, hordes of office workers, towels in one hand and brown soap in the other, emerging cleansed from the Mukuvisi River like Hindu pilgrims out of the Ganges.
The clever ones – the ones busy digging wells in the backyard while you waste time reading this shit – who would have water around the home when the Armageddon hits, would still have to get by with candlelit baths and toilet-by-candlelight.
And if you are still around when the shit hits the fan, then it’s too late to throw the kids into the back seat and attempt an escape. Chances are petrol pumps have gone blank, and your usual dissident supplier down at the gum-trees has also run dry and is slyly diluting his remaining fuel with oily river water.
Scotchcarts - whose prices account for a large part of our official inflation figures if you ask the government - would have been an option. But vehicles drawn by livestock are no longer allowed on our civilised roads.
So, if your family must travel, you walk. All in line - kids at the back, Mommy second with the baby on her back and a bundle on her head, and Daddy leading up front, carrying nothing but his knobkerrie, just like in the dark ages before women’s suffrage.
And then there is entertainment. Many take it for granted that they will get home today, curl up on the sofa under a lamp with today's paper, or reach for the remote, flick on the TV, and switch between News Hour and today’s installment of Desperate Housewives. Don’t be so sure.
For those that love “going out”, the restaurants and clubs are bound to run out of diesel for generators. So it’s back to biras, all night boogies round a huge fire, just like in the dark ages.
And then there’s that crucial area - food. Experts advise to keep the fridge shut during power outages; that way, food can remain frozen for days. But this is three months, remember, so forget the fridge.
There’s an entire generation of dumb city slickers that thinks milk comes from Bon Marché or Spar. Newsflash. The white stuff actually comes from cows. Remember the Waterfalls woman found with a cow in the bedroom during Murambatsvina? She doesn’t seem so loony now, does she? So go get your own cow, and get your milk fresh off the udder every morning, for the old ways are upon us.
And there’s no electric stove. Firewood? That’s an option, but not for everybody, especially not the modern suburban wife who won’t risk her three-inch nails and the million-dollar hairdo near an open flame – unless, of course, it’s a braai.
So be sure to carry home any animal you happen to kill on your way from work. They call it “roadkill stew”. Either you hunt and gather, or it’s dried veggies and dried meat. And dried bread, carefully broken into morsels and passed around a candlelit table like Christ did with his men before Judas, tired of stale bread, sold him out for just thirty pieces of silver, a real bargain for the head of a Messiah.
Which brings us to our last tip, money. Forget all that talk from Reserve Bank boss Gideon Gono that we must not stuff our mattresses with cash.
When the power goes out, you can be certain many ATMs will go on the blink. Generators are not to be trusted, as half of them have long been drained of fuel by capitalist security guards by night. Having a contingency stash of cash will help you resist the temptation of leading your family, in cowhorn formation, on a looting rampage of your better prepared neighbours.

Zimbabwe celebrates 27th Independence anniversary

April 18, 1980, Zimbabwe becomes an independent nation, free from racist while rule 90 years after the first white man, at the head of their so-called Pioneer Column (a long trail of white no-hopers seeking a new life away from Old Blighty), first hauled his ass onto these gold crusted lands.

On April 18, 2007, in Harare, President Robert Mugabe led the 27th "celebrations", making a speech that - yaaawn, yet again - was full of threats to his Zimbo and British opponents.

He, yawn more, again returned to his pet subject: ranting at that dude Blair, the British guy who is supposed to be spending sleepless nights at Number 10 Downing Street, London, plotting, scheming, conspiring over Mugabe's downfall.

He's done that every year, Bob has, especially since things started getting a bit pear-shaped back in 2000. The rest of the celebrations are, well, something to miss (unless you've got nothing else to do, which is the case for the average Zimbo today). There was the usual, usual stuff: underfed police muts jumping through rings of no-too-menacing fires, skinny acrobats struggling with summersaults for three-year-olds, soldiers with AKs in mock battles (a really dumb squad ruined one such party a couple of years ago when it used live rounds, killing at least one spectator).

There is also the fly-by(night?) by the Air Force (it used to be MIGs and Hawks before that Blair moron cut us off from our spare partsessentially suppliers, now its Chinese made K8s, Hawk clones). Then the North Korean-style mass displays (hunderds of kids forming a giant picture of a decidedly younger looking Mugabe).

But the highlight is supposed to be "The Main Speech". Today, Bob, known for his fire-in-the-hall speeches, was blowing quite cold, it must be said.

"We are right," roared Mugabe. "And because we are right, we have the support of the people. Don't under-estimate us."

But the part of The Main Speech I found most interesting was this:

"It was at this very stadium, Rufaro Stadium, where Prince Charles lowered the Union Jack, the British flag. And we, I myself, raised the Zimbabwe flag in its place".

Gotta hand it to the guy. This is vintage Mugabe. Note the "I myself here". "I myself" brought Independence for all you fools, he means. "I myself" have sole right to do as I please. "I myself" own this Zimbabwe joint. The rest of you punks oughta do as I say, when I say.

Independent country my ass...

...and Zimbabwean Catholics put down the cross, for the axe

There. They said it themselves. It wuznt me. The Catholics have admitted it. They reckon the chaps behind the repression and the beatings in Zimbabwe are – they said it, not me – Catholics.
The Zimbabwe Catholic Bishops Conference says in a statement that the lot behind this mess is made up of “active members of the Parish and pastoral councils”.
Raises eerie images of hoardes of Catholics, roaming the ghettos of Harare, using those rosary chains to strangle and maim opposition protestors , doesn’t it? Scary thought!
Say the bishops: “Active members of our Parish and Pastoral Councils are prominent officials at all levels of the ruling (Zanu PF) party. They are all baptised, sit and pray and sing together in the same church, take part in the same celebration of the Eucharist, and partake of the same Body and Blood of Christ. While the next day, outside the church, a few steps away, Christian State Agents, policemen and soldiers assault and beat peaceful, unarmed demonstrators and torture detainees.”
Well…
The bishops say they’ve finally figured out the root cause of the Zimbo crisis - stumping all previous (secular?) attempts at analysing "The Zimbabwe Question".
“Our crisis is not only political and economic, but first and foremost a spiritual and moral crisis. As the young independent nation struggles to find its common national spirit, the people of Zimbabwe are reacting against the 'structures of sin' in our society. Pope John Paul II says that the ‘structures of sin’ are rooted in personal sin, and thus always linked to the concrete acts of individuals who introduce these structures, consolidate them and make them difficult to remove. And thus they grow stronger, spread, and become the source of other sins, and so influence people’s behaviour.”
Right padres, Like this clears things up for the rest of us…
Tend to your own sadistic flock!!

...and the Zimbo women dropped their clothes in protest

Oppah Muchinguri is the boss of the women’s league of Zanu PF, the ruling party in Zim. A sensible woman – except when she threatens to take her clothes off in public. She did just that on national TV the other night.

Now, when an African woman drops her knickers in public, she is throwing down the gauntlet. She is saying “bring it on, bring it ALL on”. She is saying “I’m mad, I’m real mad”. She is angry. Pissed. Livid. Furious. Irate.

Now, you know there has long been rumour that the mob in Zanu (apparently not so clever, turns out), is scheming to whack the old geezer, the Big Boss Cahuna Himself, and get themselves in position to become the highest ornamentals of this great pimpers' paradise called Zimbabwe.

And so Oppah warned us all that day. “Just tell us who is troubling you,” Oppah, dazzling as usual in her flowing robes decorated with the picture of Big Chief Himself over her well endowed upper torso. “I tell you, if those people continue doing so, president, we will remove our clothes in protest.” Jaw dropper!

Oh, how the women roared in unified approval. “The clothes,” they shouted, like a scene straight out of one of those National Geographic cults documentaries – or the scene with that King Julian cat in that cartoon Madagascar (I like to move it move it, I like to move it move it, I like to move it move it). “For you, Big Chief, we yield the clothes.”

Gets a pervert thinking, don’t it?

Nude, angry Oppah, a thousand nude angry Zanu PF females behind her sizeable and bare rear, marching down First Street, Harare’s main shopping boulevard. Placards: “The Naked Truth or Bust” (couldn’t resist that one) or “My tits belong to Great Chief Himself Alone”.

Have you been to one of those league meetings? No? Their obesity only varies on levels of shock effect!!

A tonne of nude Zanu PF female bulk, rumbling down First Street, would teach us all a lesson. For sure! Force us to turn from our ways. Run back to The Great Uncle Himself. Heads hung low in shame. Wailing. Groveling. Pleading for his forgiveness. Really. What could be worse? What could be worse than a tonne of sheer Zanu PF female bulk, rumbling down First Street during rush hour?