Of Coffee With Mental Poverty, Pettiness And Miracle Cures

If you were having coffee with me, I would be very happy that you are here to keep me company because the power utility company is carrying out critical maintenance works so there wont be electricity in most of the city for the next twelve hours, at least they warned us in advance even though I still could not manage to buy fuel for the generator but that’s a long queue of a story, anyway I am so glad you are here.

I hope you aren’t really expecting to have coffee because well there’s no electricity and also we just ran out of LP gas for the cooker and its become very hard to refill the gas canisters; like everything else you have to stand in a long winding queue, which you are not guaranteed wont run out before your turn or opt to buy from suppliers who charge at triple the price but then that just reduces the cost effectiveness of using a gas cooker and might as well as use an electric one because in comparison the electricity bill is less shocking….


If you are having coffee with me I can only offer you lukewarm water but I can guarantee you its safe, I measured out the water purification tablets myself. I haven’t heard any news on the cholera outbreak that broke out over a month ago so I presume it’s now effectively contained but still that doesn’t mean one must slack on hygienic vigil have you washed your hands? Even if its to just drink water with me.

If you were having coffee with me I would tell you that I have been thinking a lot on an unpopular opinion a journalist tweeted:

My first reaction was to find it insensitive and highly offensive given the challenges we constantly face in an economy that runs practically on fumes and speculation and a government that doesn’t quite seem to be in control yet tells us that the country is fine, that social media and fake news mongers are responsible for the shortages, resulting in people panic buying and the crippling inflation caused by unscrupulous business operators out to make a quick buck,……

I felt like what she was saying boils down to all the struggles I face are all in my mind, that I am poor because I think like a poor person and it did not help matters when she also made the following tweet about those who left the country to find economic asylum in foreign lands at the risk of being second class citizens…

If you were having coffee with me I would tell you I looked up the phrase Poverty Mentality on the internet and it’s a term used by motivational coaches to describe the state of mind where one is focused on the things they lack, that no matter how hard they work, they will always lack and end up blaming the system for never giving them a break.

Zig Ziglar characterized poverty mentality as

  • Constant fixation on money or the lack of it
  • An anti rich people attitude
  • Fear-based decision making

The only way to break out of it is break out of it and really succeed you have to make a conscious choice to do so, be proactive, use what you have— believe in yourself, have a plan, and go get it.

If you were having coffee with me I would tell you that this great advice on entrepreneurship but you cant have a nation where everyone is forced to be one out of necessity or risk starving someone, what I think we need is an ecosystem where people can focus on what they are good at and love to do than just where is the money and what solution can I do to come up with it.

If you were having coffee with me I would tell you that in the world of hip hop; rapper 50cent and Ja Rule have a long standing feud thats old enough to vote (maybe its one of those manufactured publicity stunts to get hype going like most beefs usually are case in point I did not know Ja Rule was having a concert)

50cent posted on instagram that he bought 200 seats in the front so they can be empty



photoshopped impression of what it would like

Well, I wanted to crown him as the King of Pettiness but I don’t want to seem like I am hating because I wish I could afford to be that rich but hey if I was Ja Rule I would be laughing all the way to the bank thats $3000 *sips lukewarm water*

Maybe we should be enterprising entrepreneurs like prophet Magaya who today who made an announcement that after a revelation from God  he has found a 100% organic and”scientifically proven” cure for HIV and AIDS the aguma plant and working with Indian pharmaceutical experts to form Aretha medical


Here’s to an awesome week


Africa connected

PS yeah because if you randomly ended upon on this post please do say hello and lets connect; even drop a link to the post you think I should check out and if you see any interesting links in the comments do check them out cause we  roll with awesome company

PhotoCredit 50Cent 




Of Queue Waiting: Suggestions

A reader made the following comment after reading my previous post Of Queue Waiting:

Comment  I don’t understand. If you have a number, and you know how much time it will take, then why not head back home? You could come, as you stated, two hours before the bank opens. Get the number. Then return to your home and chill out for a few hours and do whatever you want to. You can use your 3 and a half minute average to calculate how long you have till your number arrives. And according to that you can leave for the bank. That way you wouldn’t have to wait in a queue. 

… it seems such a simple solution doesn’t it….Confession: I have even wondered the same thing myself. Theoretically it’s ridiculously as easy as that …… For half a second you can’t help wonder why people waste so much time waiting around in queues… you could hold a position leave then come back but in practise such a system would fail mainly for one reason: The Human Condition. People are generally not the most honest of beings, and if you are not there in person to witness what’s going on, with your own beady little eyes; shenanigans will happen….

Even when you never leave the queue you for any significant amount of time you still notice people worming their way into a position in front of you from out of nowhere claiming they came way earlier than you did and got a position before you or “claim” that someone else was holding the queue position for them. (sometimes it’s true) It doesn’t help that some enterprising individuals see a business opportunity in selling premium queue positions.

It’s like stealing candy from a baby, not that am giving anyone any ideas but if one were inclined to make a quick buck, all you need is a pen some paper and maybe a scissors


You get to the bank very early before anyone else does….

On the pretence of wanting to maintain “order” in the queue; you start handing out your list of numbered little papers corresponding to queue positions but here is the trick; you keep some numbers for yourself so it means that the actual positions in the queue are vacant… When people start queuing in earnest; when the bank is open and the ATM is dispensing cash, you then approach potential “clients”.

It’s easy to spot someone in a rush, desperate to get their cash, milling around at the back of the queue looking longingly at people at the front, and in their hand a lil paper that’s showing a triple digit number and little chance of their getting cash that day. Or the executive type who drive up to the bank in their vehicles and wind down their power windows and ask “zvakamira sei nhasi?” which translates to anything from “Whats up?” to “Any chances of getting cash today and what’s the withdrawal limit today?”

Those are the ones willing to pay to get a position in the queue… You spot your mark and say “Good day to you, pardon me for intruding I can see you value your time, I am selling a spot in the queue I can even organise that you get in the top 10 but those one cost you extra…” If you are of unscrupulous disposition, you can even sell the same position more than once (after all you made the numbered lil pieces of paper you could make duplicate numbers)…. Easy as pie.

And if all this is happening right beneath your nose imagine what would happen if you were to leave the queue for too long….. Not forgetting that unforeseeable circumstances might mess up your calculations anything could happen while you are away, you could come back and find that the whole queue has changed you don’t recognise anyone you see and that might be because the people you were with gave up or went to a different bank and new people showed up… what do you do.. what do you do…? Oh yeah and the bank just might run out of cash while you are away…..

The longer you spend outside of the queue the harder it is to get back to your position especially as you get closer, to the ATM people tend to become aggressive in allowing people to in front of you and they will eye you suspiciously when you say I was in front of you, especially if they sweated all day in line and never left it for a second and you expect just to waltz in ahead to the front of the queue goodluck with that…

Maybe just maybe if the banks took a more proactive role in the maintenance of order in the queues cause it seems they have a morbid fascination in having people just queuing up outside, as if they have no better place to be, and that’s also it, where can you go when you have no money going home and coming back is an unnecessary expense, so you wait…  It’s also a convenient excuse for anything, “yeah sorry about that…{insert anything from being late to not showing up for an appointment or work or school or even forgetting to buy flowers for that special someone’s birthday] I was at The Bank the whole day you see…” It could even be an alibi for how to get away with murder…I was at the bank the whole day…

If banks wanted am sure they can even tell you the exact number of people they can serve before cash runs out so you don’t have to just wait and hope… It’s fascinating I have been reading in our local financial papers how banks have made massive net profits in the region of million dollar figures. If they wanted, they could afford it, to make a wait in the queue such a pleasant affair, ice cold refreshments, chairs, benches, entertainment, free WiFi while you wait…

How about even making a system like those pizza places where you get a timed buzzer when you place your order and it a buzzes when you order is ready, or better yet use a system like at the doctor’s. Where you make an appointment you know exactly the time to the minute when you will get your money. How about a Queue Buddy mobile banking app that lets you track your position in the queue giving you real time update as to how long you have till it’s your turn to get served… The bank could even send you an sms remainder or call you to confirm if you are still coming to make sure the system runs smoothly and you never have to wait in a queue with longer than five people (That’s 15 minutes at the bank tops…)

Anyone with any suggestions on innovative banking solutions please do share….. maybe we could start our own bank and make million dollar profits too………….


Of A Shark In A Suit

Genre: Suspense

Duplicitous; the word left a bitter taste in his mouth that all the finest whiskey in the world could not wash out. He was not duplicitous, he was a businessman, an entrepreneur he thought to himself as he calmly folded the business section of the newspaper and slid it across the solid mahogany table; to land in the chrome-plated trash basket. Papers should stick to what they know best, reporting the news and not feature articles about business reviews, calling he him a shark in a suit. He smiled at that image well the corporate world was an unruly ocean and he was a shark, a shark in a suit.

shark suit.jpg

His leather executive chair creaked slightly as he reached with a well-manicured hand for a button on the intercom that signaled his P.A.

“Sir?” A female voice inquired.

“Can you find out for me how much the Resonance Times is worth, annual profit projections, and readership numbers…..oh! And its key board members.”

Sir it will take a mome__

“I will have a file on Resonance Times with my morning coffee, thank you very much.” He said dismissing his P.A. He would teach them, calling him a duplicitous businessman, oh they would learn he could be far worse than duplicitous, he was a shark in suit, their words, well little fishes musn’t swim with sharks.

He hadn’t gotten to where he was by letting people write bad reviews about him. He had the president’s private number on speed dial, considering he had almost single-handedly bankrolled the president’s campaign; the least the president could do was pick up when he called him; that was power.

Growing up his father constantly said to him “One cannot earn respect by standing around with one’s hands in one’s pockets” and each word was punctuated with a smack to the back of the head. It didn’t hurt much, physically, but the humiliation of it brought a sting of hot tears to the eyes, and boys were never supposed to cry. He learnt his lesson and he learnt it well, after several chastising.

Respect is earned not by standing with your hands in your pockets but by being able to put your hands in other people’s pockets. No, nothing as crass as  being a common pickpocket even if you were skilled like the Artful Dodger, oh no, they dipped they own hands into their pockets and gave you all they and even called you “Sir” while they were doing it. That was respect.

His father the sentimental old fool, had given him the best education money could buy, and an exposure to the modern world of luxury that he had no longer been content to go back and settle in the countryside, to live the simple communal village life. His father was the chief and being his father’s only son he was heir to the chieftaincy, but how could he, with his modern overseas education, waste his business acumen sitting on a leopard skin throne, that reeked of cow dung, addressing people whose language he could no longer speak fluently, though he could speak perfect English. An old English teacher once had said to him, “If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine, I am speaking to a native European” the whole class clapped because the teacher gave out compliments as would a miser who carefully counted from his hoard, before picking the least valued coin, to give away.

The day he came back from his studies abroad and told his father that he no longer wanted to succeed him as chief was the day he broke his father’s heart. But his heart was set, he wanted to live in the big city where the bright lights shone brighter than dreams, turning night into day and no one ever seemed to sleep because money just like power never sleeps.

He had two sons now, hopefully X with a little tough love and mentoring could one day takeover his empire, and the other one could follow the footsteps of his grandfather and take over a different empire all together, that would be perfect and perhaps his father would forgive him finally for walking away from culture.

After a soft knock the frosted glass door to his office swung open silently on well-oiled hinges and his PA walked in carrying a silver tray with a single china mug of steaming hot coffee. She placed the tray on his desk and as if by magic conjured a folder marked The Resonance Times from beneath the tray and placed it squarely beside the tray.

He smiled like a benign shark, all teeth, a shark in a suit.

“That will be all thanks”

shark suit b.jpg

~The End

My #Blogbattle themed Duplicitous


This is a continuation of an ongoing series of stories which are linked in various sometimes not so obvious ways, I recommend you catch up by reading giving feedback if you would be so kind:

Of The Summoning

Of Building Homes

Of dreadful intentions