Help, I was swindled!!!
Being Human in Zimbabwe
The audio is at the end of this piece. Thank you!
In this week’s issue:
The chickens
Swindled
A Legally Incapacitated Zimbabwe
A pile of cash
Being Human in Zimbabwe
The chickens
A quick update on the farm. The place is now fenced up and this week the chickens almost ran out of food. If it wasn’t for the daring efforts of yours truly, changing the springs on the car so it could carry more and rushing to the farm with chicken feed; the chickens would have continued pecking at the mud furiously for a while. We finished building a bigger chicken runner this past week. Well, it does need a few finishing touches. Anyway, I am excited about some developments on my farm as I learn homesteading and land ownership. I was going to break ground on the goat enclosure next week if I had not lost money in another of this week’s adventures. Here we go:
Swindled
A couple of weeks ago I spoke about never losing money in business until that very week. Well, this week, I am here to tell you that I am striking out from my journal the words: “I have never been swindled in my life” I thought I was too smart for it, but this past week proved to me that there are some people who are way smarter than I am. I have always known this to be true, but being out-manoeuvred in real time is amazing and embarrassing.
Unfortunately, I cannot comment further on this incident due to it being an ongoing investigation. I am quite relieved to not have to share with you my embarrassing story due to this technicality. – hahaha But someday, maybe, when these people are caught and I have received what I am owed, maybe I will share. However, this experience of being swindled opened up many avenues of thought and observation.
A Legally Incapacitated Zimbabwe
One thing I observed in all this is that there just might be rule of law in Zimbabwe. When I was swindled, all I desired was to report to the responsible authorities so they could take it from there. A part of me expected them not to do anything because there is much talk of “No rule of law in Zimbabwe.” However, I have a newfound appreciation for the way things work in my beloved country. There is rule of law here, in many pockets which cover citizens’ well-being. The challenge might be capacitation. It’s the case of an expert doctor who can heal in an emergency but is on foot and 1 hour away from a patient, because he doesn’t have a car to get to the hospital in time. That’s a resource issue not necessarily a medical care issue. Police needing a little help financially with a case is not a lack of rule of law, but again, a resource issue. Maybe, just maybe everyone is doing the best they can and their best includes being moody at work because well, they are stressed because their salaries aren’t enough. And maybe, just maybe, everyone is doing the best they can, but what a difference it would make if a small pile of cash were available to them to do their work well and live their lives well.
A pile of cash
This brings me to a situation that is close to my heart. For long I have not found a natural place to speak of my faith in this newsletter. That is because Zimbabwe’s religion seems to be money more than anything and I have been silently trying to figure out my place in the conversation. People have a question in Zimbabwe and its: how do I buy a benz, or live in a mansion? In short, “how do I secure a pile of cash?” And the answer apparently is; Jesus. Which is not a caricature, because I was caught in the swindle as I imagined a new car, and goats, and an extra pile of cash. These daydreams made me question less of what was going on right in front of me. I too am caught up in this haze of how do I buy a Benz.
I am on a new writing project now, working on a story set in pre-colonial Zimbabwe. I have been working on it for months. But it has gotten new wind now. My big exciting adventure is trying to discover what life was like back then especially when it comes to religion and to showcase this life through personable characters. I want to know the question my Shona ancestors asked as they lived their lives. I am particularly intrigued and inspired by some Biblical stories. One is Jonah going to Nineveh a non-Jewish city where God was a vibrant presence without the Hebraic law and ways of worship. Another is about when Jesus arrived at the Samaritan Village. The Samaritans, their books and ways of worship, which the Jews condemned, had produced a way of life that led to them holding a question or questions. A question to which Jesus was the answer. At their request, he stayed in the village with them for days teaching; not performing miracles but teaching.
When the missionaries came to Zimbabwe, they told the Shona people to do away with our “Samaritan ways” and to do our way with our “Questions” because they were heathen. Then they told us the questions to ask and taught us the answers. We lost something there. And now I am on a quest to figure out what we lost. What could have been our question(s). We probably were close to the real deal like the Ninevites and needed a nudge not colonization and an overhaul of linguistic and cultural nuances. Which now have come to haunt us socially, economically, and politically. The law for example allows me to insult a person in authority but my culture condemns it vehemently. We find our culture does not necessarily inform our business or legal ways and the same culture – ChiVanhu – is condemned in the church in many ways. Maybe through this writing project, I could reach for the questions like the Samaritans did and help usher in a new era in Zimbabwean discourse. And just maybe, maybe we will then ask for a teacher to tarry with us for days teaching us, rather than a prophet and miracle worker who can produce miracle money and predict prosperity in our finances. I don’t know, maybe I’ll discover that our ancestors who did not use money wondered how to get a pile of cash.
Being Human in Zimbabwe
Until next week, keep an eye on your pile of cash, and let me know what your question is; the guiding question to your life. I believe I was swindled in part because of being clouded by the desire for a pile of cash. And that it led me to show up in ways I am not proud of as a person. I showed up dishonestly even as the swindlers were dishonest as well. And now my guiding question is: what might be a better way of being human in Zimbabwe?
P.S
Word of the week: Despondent
I feel a lot of things as I sit thinking through this week’s update. Embarrassed by the con, saddened by the loss, bolstered by all those who have been there for me through it all, and ultimately despondent. Though I will soldier on, I hurt deeply inside.