Ah, Zimbabwe! Land of the learned, home of scholars, constitutional analysts, and theologians—on paper, at least. We can quote scripture, dissect the Constitution, and argue policy with impressive vocabulary, yet when the time comes for action, we suddenly develop a national case of stage fright.
Every September, we pack our bags, throw millions into travel expenses, and head to the African Summit—not as leaders, but as professional attendees, masters of ceremony with no ceremony to officiate. We promised the late UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon that we would reform the Security Council. Oh yes, we were going to “fight a fight!” But years later, we’re still shadowboxing while the real players have left the ring.
Meanwhile, Argentina got its economic bailout in 2018. Qatar secured its World Cup moment in 2022. But Zimbabwe? Ah, Zimbabwe continues to be the world’s most literate people who read and write for no reason—loud in voice, silent in action. We sit on regional and international boards, yet our influence is as present as a mirage in a desert. Is it inferiority complex? Self-sabotage? Or are we simply too comfortable in our status as honorary spectators of global progress?
The Curious Case of Zimbabwean Fortune: A Hotspot Gone Wrong?
For a moment, it looked like Zimbabwe had the signal. The divine Wi-Fi was connected. The stars aligned. The Creator’s right hand was upon us! A RoseGood wonder, a peace synthesis, the “4C” moment—courage, confidence, clarity, and conviction! But then… someone must have hotspotted our fortune to another location.
The Warrior Cause vanished overnight. We, the original defenders, suddenly became the entertained, the amazed, the confused. The signal thieves pulled off the greatest daylight data heist of all time, and we, the rightful subscribers, were left buffering.
History’s Echo: Warriors or Watchers?
Once upon a time, Zimbabwe was the breadbasket of Africa. Now, we are the seed-bank of unfulfilled potential. We once stood as warriors, but today, we have mastered the fine art of clapping for others. Our biggest export is hope, but our biggest import? Excuses.
We were the team that lit up AFCON 2004, standing toe-to-toe with Egypt and Cameroon. We roared past Algeria. The warriors were shining. Yet fast-forward to today, and we have reduced ourselves to cheerleaders of history, watching as others rewrite the script we should have been leading.
In 1956, the San python rattled in the desert, a symbolic call to the origins of African consciousness. In 1966, the Zebras of Botswana found their independence. Fast forward 14 generations, and here we are in 2023, still counting timelines while others are making headlines.
Nobility by the Sword, or Nobility by the Robe?
The age-old question remains: do we inherit power through the sword (hard work, strategy, and true leadership) or through the robe (titles, politics, and inherited privilege)? Zimbabwe sits at this very crossroads, with one foot in history and the other in hesitation.
Are we to be the warrior nation we claim to be, or will we continue playing political and economic dress-up, wearing robes with no real authority? Will we be the mineral bosses of our land, or will we remain victims of external manipulation, selling our inheritance for shiny trinkets and ceremonial applause?
The Grand Satire of African Leadership
We love titles. We love meetings. We love protocols. But ask us for results, and suddenly, we become prophets of "We are still deliberating."
We have mastered political grandstanding, perfected the art of vague speeches, and refined the science of perpetual committees with no conclusions. We chair international boards, yet we are participants in none.
The biggest irony? We are neither an underdog nor a global heavyweight. We are a continent within a country, a powerhouse without power, a lion that roars only when the cameras are rolling.
Are We Behind? Are We Underdogs?
I, Tinotenda Samukange, ask you all: Are we behind, or are we underdogs? I’m not sure anymore. But one thing I know—Zimbabwe should not be a nation that merely reads history, but a nation that writes it.
The future is neither in hashtags nor in nostalgia. It is in decisive action, unity, and the courage to lead rather than follow. The world does not owe us anything, but we owe ourselves a destiny beyond speeches and ceremonial seats.
The Joshua Generation was meant to enter the promised land, not become curators of its museum.
So, Zimbabwe, are we just a literate people reading and writing for sport, or are we finally ready to stand, act, and lead?
Because history will not wait for us. And neither will the world.
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