Welcome to the Zimbabwe

The one place that seemingly manages to hit the sweet spot, geographically speaking of course. This is the east south African classist cesspool where ghetto youths climb social ladders to the pinnacle of cultural acclaim, whilst suburban trap lords sell bliss for that sip of the golden Mazoe juice. In the middle of all this, is your paradoxical Zimbabwean dream embodied by the literates and the illiterates, the haves and the have nots, the connected and unconnected.

It’s usually tea time in our burning teapot of flavourful personalities with a hint of simmering neo-tribalistic discontent, not much unlike our British...benefactors?

The motherland is the firewood that the boujee refused, the aspiration that my family uses for fuel. Educational gentrification gave the ghettos and the suburbs one name in different slangs over 41 years of freely enjoyed speech — the hood.

Selective patriots with undying pride for Vic Falls despite being unable to afford it. Pursuing lovingly deferred dreams to leave the country before their roaring twenties finish, make the bag just in time for the whoring thirties and secure the glory stories for the boring forties.

The jewel of Africa hence the iconic design of the land with horizons worth gazing upon over rock formations that narrate the history of the world, the Eden that could have been. Women lie and men lie, yet Cupid’s arrow hits a bulls eye…most of the time.

The beauty in the struggle is the beauty of a life without the struggle, hence why down here the younger you are the more dreams you chase whilst the older you are the more realistic your nightmares get. Down here don’t mind the disconnect coz Peter Pan and Captain Hook are all youths coz the party said so, which is fair enough considering that waiting for the ZUPCO will leave your life in limbo.

Poetic OnlyFacts

The only savannah where the butterflies pimp themselves by hustling their own suffering, coz down here opps stands for opportunistic opposition. Heroes become scapegoats and villains become the GOAT, this flag right? A dollar for two is a wave of nostalgia for some and the reminder to wake up early for a queue is a fact of life still.

Here the social capitalists of the soil master the art of civilian politics through plugging themselves to the sockets to power, corruption and eventually the quick bucks. Harare and Bulawayo, my favorite cities of vibes over violence despite the former being the horror capital and the latter being named after a slaughtering ground. The streets are clean when we all asleep, but we forget a lot of some ones sleep in those streets.

So welcome to the last country in the world, where we all have the same 24 hours, but around here we +2 CAT ahead of everyone else coz y’know…black people time. So it’d seem we live in the future just a lil bit.