Power cut

We live in darkness. The lights are out. The land of perpetual romance and eternal candle-lit dinners. We flounder in the dark for the light switch. But there's no power. Just this. Darkness.

We return after long days of korokoza-ring to dark corridors where we walk with solitary candles, trying to bring light to our invisible homes. Stubbornly believing that we can bring light to this black hole. But the power went a long time ago. And electricity is a small part of the problem.

In the mornings we go to the well. No water today either in this dry city where all we can produce is potholes and power cuts. And politicians who drink us dry. (Nhasi woisa tsvina mutsime.) So we pull up the bucket from the well and place it on the fire. No power still. But power lies in our pockets: why pay ZESA bills if they cut our power? Why pay the corrupt city council if their twisted understanding of 'refuse collection' is to refuse collection. We haven't paid our council rates for over a year because all they deliver are bills. I look forward to being taken to court and delivering a power point presentation on why we refuse to pay our rates. Power lies in a rates boycott. So stop floundering in the dark with that lone candle. Maybe then the light switch will work...