‘˜– ™ƒ–…Š‹‰ ‹•‡•‹–‹˜‡Ž›
Sir,
Razor-sharp ribs protrude like a razor wire from a thin reed in an emaciated body. Fat-starved flesh stuck on skeletal bones like super glue, paining even the hardest of hearts. The loud features give a clear calculation of the extent of hunger.
Laying on the dirt disoriented, wobbly hands move expertly, scrapping for food, rummaging in a gleaming, rich but overturned dustbin. Mongrels watch by the sideline, fascinated and marvel at such a spectacle. But deep down, jealousy plays harmoniously, soothing their malnourished innards. Flies fly around happily, gloating at the frail hand swatting at them. Maggots swell with anger at the malnourished object that is bound to snatch away their sumptuous buffet. Hate imprisons their greedy and selfish bowels; the Tinkhundla government is at play.
Hunger
Hunger is tearing at his stomach and impatient hands toss them away. Helter-skelter they run away like cowards, grumbling like the long suffering emaSwati. Many of them are left to scavenge and fight for food with mongrels. The way I see it, in our beautiful Eswatini, prisoners live a very comfortable, cozy and better life compared to most taxpaying emaSwati. Three meals a day, a hot bath daily, a bed or lousy sponge
with six loose blankets to keep warm, a uniform and toiletries, which to many unemployed, poverty-stricken, low paid, orphaned and vulnerable, and old generation of emaSwati is a luxury they yearn and can die for.
No wonder many end up committing even the silliest of crimes so they can be behind bars and be well fed. Analytically, hunger and poverty have destroyed their ubuntu to the core. In pursuit of a better life, the young folks become Betty comes to town, chasing after the good life at night, while, alas, destroying their lives even further, contracting HIV in the process. On empty stomachs, they feed their immune systems with ARVs. Government watches insensitively, unconcerned of at least disbursing their poison with food parcels.
A small country with a 70 per cent poverty-stricken
population is such a shame when it is categorised as a middle-class country and the pulpit of Africa. Where is the Christianity they profess to uphold, yet the minority bogubhela kwesakhe? It is no exaggeration that their dogs eat better than the heavily taxed majority. Many small businesses have crumpled in the face of tax laws. Through monopolies, high electricity prices have sent us even more deeper than hell. In pain and suffering we have squirmed, while those who dare stand up and fight for what rightly belongs to them end up like cheap women, lusting after and succumbing to a lousy chicken dust. Tattered clothes adorn HIV ravaged bodies, while government swings comfortable in its snug and swivel comfy chair unconcerned.
Slow