Monday, May 4, 2020

May 1

The electricity is still off when we wake up.  At 9 o'clock, John phones ZESA and is told that help is on its way; the team is 'just collecting their tools'.  The electricity comes back on around midday.

It is May Day, a public holiday that we had all completely forgotten about.  Yesterday evening, Elizabeth reminded us of it when she said good-bye.  

'Is it a public holiday?' I asked.  I couldn't even remember what the date was.  'Isn't that at the end of the month?'

'No.' said Elizabeth. 'It's Independence Day.'

'But we've had that, haven't we?  It was a couple of weeks ago.'

Elizabeth started laughing and shaking her head.  'I don't know.  It's one of them.'

In the afternoon, we hear that in the president's May Day address, he has extended the lockdown by a further two weeks, although we have been reduced to level two in the state of emergency.  This means that some businesses and industries may reopen.  He also makes it compulsory for everyone to wear a mask.

I know there are people who find me very cynical, which is not true - except where the government is concerned.  I do not believe that the Zimbabwean government do anything for the good of their people.  If they really had people's interests at heart, they would set about restoring the economy instead of squandering billions of dollars on international travel and extravagant lifestyles.

I cannot help but feel that the whole lockdown scenario is some sort of farce; something to be played out in order to receive money and aid.  How the government must delight in being given millions of US dollars to combat the coronavirus in CASH.  Imagine, you have been running out of money, there or businesses are not many more parastatals, minesleft to ransack and along comes the coronavirus. What a relief.  


And then there is this whole business of wearing masks.  You have to wear one if you are in your car and you only person in your car otherwise you can get arrested.  Why is everything in Zimbabwe always so extreme?  Other countries, where the virus has really taken hold, have allowed their citizens to do some form of exercise; in Zimbabwe, going for a run is not allowed.

One cannot help wondering if the mask thing is not another way to make money.  When Mnangagwa came to power at the end of 2017, he took the police off the roads immediately.  They were tyrants, exacting large fines from motorists for the smallest of offences.  If anything was going to push people towards revolution, it was them.  Now, slowly, they seem to be coming back.  Where is the fine money going to go?  Who is going to benefit?

Those who call me cynical should cast their minds back to the time when everyone had to change their number plates, at great expense, because someone related to someone in the government owned the company making them.  Remember the third number plate scenario?  Remember having to buy a fire extinguisher for your car and a reflective jacket?  This whole mask scenario smacks of the same thing. It may begin with the directive that even makshift masks are acceptable, but wait for it to start to change:  all masks must be white, all masks must be double-sided . . . all masks should have the Zimbabwean bird embroidered in gold on the left-hand side.  Oh, and there's only one factory that makes them: E.M. Enterprises, trading as Scarfman Industries.

Don't get me wrong.  It's not that I don't think that wearing a mask is a good idea; it's that I am trying to see why the government has made it a legal requirement.  It is using this period to crack down on its citizens and be heavy-handed with them whilst making it look as though they care and evading criticism from other countries.  To the international community, they make themselves look like a responsible government dealing swiftly with the coronavirus but behind the scenes there is far more to this than meets the eye.

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