Hard times never kill

Those of you who know what a ‘Ndebele’ bicycle looks like will identify with this. It is a statement in art and finesse, a bike that is elaborately decorated and endowed with some of the creature comforts found in a car, such as a radio, rear view mirrors and a horn among other things such as the mandatory ‘itshoba’ (made from the tail of some poor creature) and a plethora of reflective disks and other paraphernalia. Only a photograph of this contraption would do justice to ant fitting description.

One such work of art belonged to Siziba of Manxeleni who used to work for a clothing company in Donnington Industrial Sites. Every morning on his way to work, he would jump on his machine, a 3 speed Humber, and race the ZUPCO buses to work. It was such a spectacle, with Siziba, a Dobbs hat firmly perched on his head riding as if there was no tomorrow to the cat whistles of passengers and pedestrians alike.

Once every three months, Siziba would make the Great Trek to Manxeleni about 40 kilometres away using, you guessed it, his bike. I am sure that the bicycle was his prized possession, more like a car to him and the community there must have been equally proud. You see, those were the days when all we blacks could afford in terms of transportation was a bicycle.

What caught my attention then was a sign that he fixed to the mudguard of his ‘mtshina.’ It read, ‘Hard times never kill.’ I am not sure whether he understood the meaning of those words, but I can tell you this, I never realised the currency of that expression until now. In present day Zimbabwe we might have hit rocked bottom and started to dig, yet somehow we survive. Hard times never kill, now I know.

Environmental disaster
Water, now that is a very scarce resource in Bulawayo nowadays. There is no need for us to overemphasise its importance in our day to day lives. We require water for drinking, cooking, doing the laundry and of course, bathing. However, due to the shortage, people have decided to forgo one or the other of the important functions.

Some of us have stopped bathing. Now this suspension of a very hygienic activity is presenting a lot of problems in terms of socialisation. Let me go back into history to fix my bearings. When we were at boarding school all those years ago when dinosaurs used to roam the earth, bathing was optional particularly during winter.

It was the rule rather that the exception that people would be followed by an incredible pong, the combination of sweaty armpits, smelly socks and other unmentionable parts of the human anatomy. We used to wear it (the smell) like a flag. Imagine having to teach a collection of all the tropical odours one can imagine. And for some reason we always forgot to open the windows!

Admittedly, some of the pupils would reek worse than a skunk in heat. The stench would assault the nasal orifice with wave upon wave of a cacophony of smells, particularly from the socks, that one was convinced their feet were actually breathing! Fittingly, we labelled such a smell ‘umsindo’ (noise). The socks would eventually harden like concrete to the extent that if you were to take them off and place them on the desk, they would stand on their own accord.

Fast-forward a couple of a hundred years and we are in a waterless Bulawayo, faced with a potentially devastating noxious pollution of Bhopalic proportions (after the Bhopal Disaster). It’s an environmental disaster in the making so critical that it should be added to the Tokyo Protocol on toxic emissions that would sure threaten the ozone layer.
If you think I am dreaming, then ride in a kombi (commuter omnibus). I had such an experience the other day when someone between here and there, a nicely dressed gentleman got into the vehicle and immediately everyone was gasping for fresh air. We tried cracking the windows open but it was in vain. The offending party, for his part, saw nothing wrong with the discomfort of which he was clearly the source.

Finally, a lady, summoned all her courage and pointed this fact to the gentleman, to which he calmly replied: “Madam, when you broke wind I did not say a thing, but because I have had water for five whole days, which in itself is a violation of my human rights, you complain!”

That shut her and the rest of us up for the rest of the tortuous journey.


Tales from Queuetopia
The governments announced that it will start to crack down on professional ‘queuers’ whom it blamed for the proliferation of the black market in scarce grocery items. Well. We managed to interview some of these economic saboteurs and they were happy to share their experience with us seeing that queues (Q's) are now a way of life. Here are survival tips about queuing:

1. Be friendly. Greet the person at the end of the Q. Resist the urge to immediately ask what the Q is for. Catch your breath first. Then say, "So bathi itshukela yangakhona izabuya sikhathi bani?" (So, when are they saying that the sugar will be delivered?) This is called fishing. They will look at you and give you two answers to your one question. "Le yi-Q yesinkwa. Kuthiwa ngo 10 o'clock". Then you decide whether to stay in the queue for bread or maybe you do not have the three hours to wait.

2. Do not drink a lot of water before joining a Q. You will lose your place when you leave temporarily to empty your blotted bladder. Often chaos reigns when you try to reclaim your position and the Q has to be reordered usually with brute force by Omantshingelane (Security Guards). I suggest you eat a few bananas (these are abundant at $20 000 each) instead. That way there is no urge to 'go' for either number 1 or number 2.

3. Never discuss politics. This is a 'No, No!’ The people in the Q are strangers and you dare not divulge which side of the political divide you belong. Talk in general terms about 'Uhulumende wethu' and never, never name names for any reason. Talk about the coming rains, the harsh winter, etc. If you have nothing to say, just shut up. Five hours is a long time to wait so I suggest practising silence at home.

4. Beware of toxic emissions (bad breath) from the guy behind you. Toothpaste and expensive mouthwashes are not on the 'essentials’ list. They are low priority when it comes to fending for a hungry family. People no longer use toothpaste when they brush their teeth or rinse out their mouths! The guy in front is not such a threat. Make sure that your head is angled sideways and down so as not to be in the line of fire of any of the halitosis.

5. If you'd rather not talk, clutch your jaw to indicate a tooth ache or sore gums or mouth sores or sore throat!

6. If the person in front of you is a lady, it is good for your health to leave a discreet gap between the two of you. And do not get too animated in your conversation with her. Her husband might not be the least jealous person in the world. Show respect and, depending on her age, address her as "ambuya". If not one of several things could happen:-

a. She will look at you accusingly and speak loud enough for all to hear that you are rubbing your whatchamacallit against her behind. That could be a death sentence with any angry Zimbo crowd.

b. The husband could be a few places behind you in the queue and would not be too happy to see you borrowing some warmth from his wife.

c. Before you know it, you will be walking away from the place with your 2 kg sugar plus a ‘small house.’ Some of our sisters can get really desperate if you know what I mean.

7. No need to push and shove. This will not reduce the waiting time. You will only manage to annoy the person in front of you and create chaos.

8. If you are a student, carry a voluminous literature text book. This is OK as it also discourages people from starting pointless conversations with you. Tell them, "Ngenzu JC Form 4 lonyaka ende angilasikhathi sokudlalisa futhi." (I am sitting for my exams this year and I don’t have time to waste.)

9. Always approach the queue from the rear, not midways or front or else all those bored individuals will suddenly find in you a moving object upon which to exercise their optic nerves.

10. Walk away briskly and with purpose once you get what you queued for or else you might become the latest statistic in the police file marked, ‘Muggings.’