A Zimbabwean song of yearning for change
THE uncertainty of hope marked the end of year 2023 as the anticipation for a better Zimbabwe remained in the hearts of many although no one knows what it will take for that change to happen.
In the hushed twilight, hunched gures like question marks dot the country's weary landscape.
Their shoulders, stooped beneath burdens unseen, are etched with the narratives of hardship.
Their eyes, dimmed by the dull grey of routine, icker with a faint, stubborn ember - a yearning for something beyond the drudgery that de nes their days.
Cry my beloved Zimbabwe who weavers with calloused ngertips dream of tapestries woven not with thread, but with threads of opportunity where their skills hold the power to craft their own destinies.
As for Zimbabwean teachers, their voices hoarse from the daily chorus of lessons, whisper prayers for classrooms bathed in the sunshine of knowledge where minds bloom unbound by limitations, but their salary is an insult.
Mothers, hands raw from a thousand thankless tasks, hold visions of a future where their children's laughter echoes in spaces of security and love.
The air itself crackles with a quiet anticipation in the echoes of darkness.
It whispers in the rustle of faded yers plastered on peeling walls, each promising a path to escape dry Zimbabwe.
It hums in the hushed conversations in darkened alleyways, where dreams are shared like embers, passed from hand to hand, keeping hope alive.
There is a de ance in their weariness, a refusal to let circumstance extinguish the icker of possibility.
They walk the worn paths of their lives, not with resignation, but with a quiet determination.
Their steps, though heavy, are purposeful, each one edging them closer to the precipice of change.
In the cracks of their everyday routines in the middle of kungwavhangwavha (hustles), they plant seeds of resistance pakuda plan (a solution is needed).
An impromptu musical ensemble, their voices rising in a de ant crescendo, claiming ownership of their own narrative as they dance in the dust.
They dream to be the architects of their own revolution, not with weapons or grand pronouncements, but with the simple acts of everyday language Zvichanaka, inguva chete (It will be well, it’s just a matter of time).
They mend torn fabrics, not just of clothes, but of fractured communities governed by sel sh leaders who deep in their empty pockets through ridiculous taxes.
They tend ailing gardens, nurturing not just soil but also the seeds of hope.
They raise their voices not in anger, but in the shared melody of yearning for a better Zimbabwe with more value.
Their revolution is a slow burn, Umlilo wamaphepha (paper re), a quiet simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to rise but no one knows the day.
As the biblical scripture in the book of Matthew says, “No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”
It may not be a sudden, ery eruption, but a gradual, inexorable shift in the tide.
A quiet breaking of dawn, washing away the shadows of weariness and illuminating the path towards a brighter horizon.
The happiness will surpass that of November 2017.
No matter the current state of our being, there is still hope. It’s a matter of time.
People never expected the downfall of the late president Robert Mugabe but it happened.
For in the weariness of these yearning souls, there is a quiet power, a tenacity that refuses to be extinguished.
And within the cracks of their resilience, hope gleams, a promise whispered in the wind: change is coming, born not from anger, but from the quiet, unyielding determination of a people who refuse to let their dreams be worn away.
Like in Nelson Chamisa’s popular statement “God is in it”
Zimbabwe is a great nation governed by sel sh individuals, who have enjoyed the juicy side of the country since independence.
The greed has left Zimbabwe a broken society characterised by angry citizens who still have hopes for a better Zimbabwe.
When moving around the capital of Harare, one is greeted by the rhythms of a people whose poverty has eroded their dignity but hope is accompanied by small acts of courage in the middle of street hustlers anticipating for a better Zimbabwe.
The youthful generation’s prolonged endurance is unmatched, but like former America president Barack Obama said: “Hope in the face of di culty. Hope in the face of uncertainty.
“The audacity of hope! In the end, that is God's greatest gift to us.
“A belief in the things not seen. “A belief that there are better days ahead.”
Barack Obama captured Zimbabwe’s situation succinctly in those famous lines.
In Africa, it is widely believed that the end of revolutionary political parties in power could result in the restoration of e ective governance.
The majority of Zimbabweans faced a gloomy Christmas holiday.
For many people, the emotions of the season are more complicated especially for the past decade and usually this time of the year brings forth feelings of nostalgia when Zimbabwe used to be the breadbasket of Africa.