Local man asked by barber in Harare CBD if he wants a haircut moments after he had just got a new haircut

By The Reporters 

HARARE – Much to his indescribable frustration, local resident Tatenda Matemera (24) was utterly flummoxed after a barber in Harare’s Central Business District (CBD) asked him whether or not he wanted a haircut minutes after he had just got a new haircut from another barber just a few streets away. Matemera, who lives in Houghton Park, told The Reporters that his first instinct upon hearing the question “Togera here?” was to throw a “big punch” to the barber. “I was just walking down Cameron Street, minding my business and feeling extremely victorious in this fresh cut, when all of a sudden I heard a barber asking me that stupid, silly question. To be honest, all I could think of was giving him a big punch right into his face. That would surely put him in his place. Because can’t you see I just got a new haircut here? Like, what the actual fuck?” 

He said the new haircut, which had just resurrected some much-needed points for him, was such a glorious crowning moment that being asked whether or not he wanted the haircut felt disrespectful. Matemera, who got his new haircut in a relatively pristine barbershop housed in the majestic Joina City, added that he knew he was likely going to be asked that “dreadful”question by walking along Cameron Street. “I kinda knew that this dreadful question was to be asked. It was a bit obvious because you know, that’s how it goes. There’s a ragtag bunch of barbers there. It's one of those things you can't avoid in town. But I was optimistic that it would be evident I just got a dope cut from Kingz Cuts at Joina. That stubborn faith terribly let me down.” Bystanders at the scene told The Reporters that Matemera opted not to respond to the question, instead, coming resolutely to the decision that it was better to cuss him silently. Efforts by The Reporters to get a comment from Ronald Kufahakurambwi (33), the barber who asked the question, were in vain as he was already asking another man whether or not he wanted a haircut.

JUST A GIRL

The frigid winter mornings were always hard on Natasha. Not only did she have to brave the elements and help out with the chores around the house; but she also had to deal with the duties of being a deputy parent to her mischievous and often insufferable little and cousin bother. This particular morning strained her psyche for different reasons. The texture of the air was chilling, anxiety swirled with the cold winter air. The mood could have induced grand hysteria in even the dullest oracle.

“Natasha, hurry up you are going to miss the bus”, screamed her mother.

A cloud of mist suddenly enveloped the air outside as soon as she left the house, almost as if Natasha’s uneasiness was augmenting the weather itself. She was now ready to embark on her journey of self-discovery and personal growth. 

“I am right behind you Mama, why are you always like this?” replied Natasha in a hush tone as she lugged her suitcase out of the hut.

Natasha although possessing a modest build was just a girl. House tasks and the odd errand to the growth point or the watering hole gave her a semblance of strength, but the 16-year-old could hardly manage the luggage that her mother had given her to carry her belongings on her trip.

“How am I supposed to calm down when my precious Natasha is on her way to the big city for school? How am I supposed to survive without my brilliant daughter?”, pleaded her mother as she spotted Natasha’s bag on to the top of her head.

Natasha usually could not handle her mother’s overbearing nature, but she summoned strength from the very depths of her soul to refrain from taking her words literally and retreating into the house. It could have been the frigid morning air in Gweru, the uncertainty of not knowing whether or not the bus she was supposed to board had arrived at her station or the anxiousness of a village teenager setting off from her rural home in the reserves; embarking on a journey on roads less travelled that would warrant Natasha this level of vulnerability.

Natasha walked besides her mother, making casual conversation on their way to the bus stop until they reached their destination; trying her best to ease her mind from how much her life was about to change—stewing on how she was going to fare at Harare Polytech College and how much her lifestyle was going to change. As the prospects of leaving home started to become clearer the bus stop sign emerged from the mist.

“Natasha I am going to return home now, Dumisani and Farai will wake up soon and if I do not wake those boys up, they will wake up at noon,” proclaimed her mother as she helped Natasha bring down her often hand luggage at the bus stop.  

“Those silly boys are going to be late for school anyway, they will be fine mother,” insisted Natasha as she fixed her hair and straightened her floral dress with her hands.

“You might be right, but I have to leave you to board your bus now. Don’t forget to take care of yourself and greet your brother for me,” said her mother as she hugged and kissed her goodbye.

Natasha’s mother left her at the bus stop and disappeared into the dissipating mist, leaving her in a melancholy silence anguishing on her mother’s departure and contemplating when they would enjoy her company again. Then at the corner of her eye she saw Mrs. Makoni push her wheelbarrow full of treats towards the bus stop.

As she observed the vendor, she had known all of her life roll into station she thought, “I wonder if Mai Makoni has any Lemony Creamy Biscuits.”, as the mist continued to roll back.

~Fin~

Thanks for reading drop a like and a comment and gear up for the next instalment.

-M.C Bvuma

An Encounter

Cruising down this boulevard is so surreal. The streets are clean, the roads devoid of blemishes, and the jacaranda flowers are cascading in an erratic yet persistent succession along the walkways from the trees. I understand why the Northerners are reluctant to leave this beautiful country. 

The traffic on my way to work is nominal, tranquil bordering on monotonous, yet the busy young pedestrians walking briskly to avoid getting stick from their bosses for clocking in late always catches my eye. Especially the younger ladies whom I have unknowingly conditioned myself to spot, “maybe my aunt is getting to me,” as they rush to the solitary vendor on Wellness Boulevard who had indicated to me on one of our rare interactions of their peculiar affinity to Lemony Creamy biscuits.

I have grown fond of my lifestyle and the amenities that come to it including my red minty 1987 Nissan 620 single cab, cozy yet compact 1-bedroom company flat and fair wage but there have been rumors that my company is looking to open a new branch in one of the cities satellite settlements recently renamed Chitungwiza. I have been a junior sales associate at Cleverly Builders Association for a couple of years and I am hoping that I get a managerial position. Imagine, little Tanunurwa from Bocha, a manager at one of the biggest insurance brokers in the country at 23; my eyes shimmer with excitement. The future that lies ahead entices me. A bigger salary, company car, loan facilities, company house … I think you get it. 

I reached the office, waved the guards, proceeded to my associate parking spot and hopped out of my bakkie (Single Cab). Rounding up my morning routine by checking my outfit in the glass mirror at the office. Today I was looking dapper in my tweed suit and presidential brogues, a rhinoceros wouldn’t be able to halt my charge.

The end of the workday beckoned the exodus of Tanunurwa from the busy offices of Cleverly Builders Society. I strolled out of the building dejected; starved of the promotion I had been praying for which initiated a dilemma in my brain, putting it through a ringer, “ancestors, have they forsaken me,” I debated in my head as I climbed into my bakkie and drove out of my spot. I waved the security guard on my way out and continued to contemplate plotting my prospects. “I should visit Rupert and follow up on his proposal since this Cleverly gig is not progressing the way I want it to. I might as well take that risk you’ll never know in this life,” rang the voice in my head as I turned into Wellness Boulevard, when my stomach let out a vicarious growl prompting me to pull over to the side of the road to procure a bag of crisps and Gush, my favorite tropical dairy drink.  

As I made my way to the local vendor I felt the presence of the most beautiful woman in the world right behind me. I never thought I would be the man to be at a loss for words but her round face, smooth brown skin and gentle smile had taken my breath away and unfortunately for me she seemed to have taken noticed. So in the spur of the moment I made an abrupt motion I turned to her and said in a muffled panic with a subtle smile, “Hi I’m Tanunurwa would you mind if I bought you some Lemon Creamys?”

~ End ~

Thanks for reading, and gear up for the next instalment that is coming next.

-M.C Bvuma

Zimbabwe’s Department of Public Inconvenience Assures Citizens of More Inconveniences, And There Won’t Be Any Sincere Regrets

By The Reporters

HARARE – True to its revolutionary and unwavering fashion, Zimbabwe’s Department of Public Inconvenience (DOPI), which is under the purview of Ministry of Home Affairs, gave rock-solid assurances to the country’s patriotic and unpatriotic citizens that a lot more exasperating public inconveniences will be the order of the day as we joyously enter in 2024—and that DOPI will not convey any sincere regrets for the inconveniences caused since it is assiduously working round the clock to beat the Second Republic’s deadline of Vision 2030 for a middle-income economy. 

In a hastily arranged press conference at the imposing Public Affairs Building on New Year’s Eve, the Head Chairperson of DOPI Cde Tasimba Mashayamombe said that public inconveniences remain the sole definitive feature in the country to distinguish, beyond any reasonable doubt, patriotic and unpatriotic citizens; with a stern warning that hotspots such as passport offices will multiply the inconveniences a hundred times. 

“The problem we are facing in this country, and which must be addressed with pressing alacrity, is that of born-frees and a motley of other counter-revolutionaries hell bent on tarnishing the image of Zimbabwe and most importantly, the image of the glorious Second Republic. It has come to our attention that any little inconvenience experienced allegedly at the behest of Home Affairs and DOPI, then a person rushes to X and Facebook and starts calling for the West to bomb this great rising country of Zimbabwe, a towering beacon of hope for everyone to see,” Mashayamombe said. 

He further stated that those who endure the public inconveniences without registering any complaints are the truest and most patriotic citizens of the country, as they perfectly understand the history of Zimbabwe and the current works of the Second Republic to change Zimbabwe. “These spoilt kids, do they know that under Smith’s Rhodesia we did not even have all these luxuries. We go to war, spill our precious blood for you, and actually die for you only to complain of trivial issues saying the economy is not working—an economy we won through war. We commend those who have gone through the inconveniences silently, we will handsomely rewards them in the near future.” An effort to confirm this development by Intertwined’s The Reporters from Home Affairs Minister at the time of printing was fruitless, as it surfaced that he is on holiday in Dubai, UAE.

God Says “He Is Not In It” As He Issues Statement Refusing To Come Down From Heaven To Help Nelson Chamisa

By The Reporters

HEAVEN, THE COSMOS—Expressing bouts of exasperation over the insufferable futility of repeatedly attempting to intervene in the domestic, sovereign affairs of Zimbabwe, God The Almighty, The Heavenly Father, Creator & Ruler Of All The Universes, issued out a press statement exclusively seen by The Reporters from His Holy Throne stating that “He Is Not In It”, and that from now on he will block any requests from Nelson Chamisa and Citizens Coalition for Change (CCC) to use His name in solving their political mess. 

“It has come to My attention that Nelson Chamisa is still using the old, tired mantra ‘God is in it’ as his slogan despite several warnings issued against him notifying him that I am tired and frustrated of being used in his personal and political shit. Let it known in All The Universes, Heaven and earth, that from now on I will not answer any request or prayer claiming that I Am In It—on the contrary, I Am Not In It. From now on I will not meddle in the sovereign affairs of Zimbabwe, and I distance myself from all those yellow-infested heretics and counter-revolutionaries. I will not come down from Heaven for that nonsense,” God bellowed as all the Angels trembled at His tantrums. 

Nelson Chamisa’s comments that if SADC refuses to help the CCC yellow-adorned party leader in seizing power from Zimbabwe’s principal troublemaker Emmerson Dambudzo Mnangagwa then God will step in to help have been dismissed by God Himself as “utterly ludicrous, ill-conceived”, adding that this time He won’t be in Chamisa’s corner. 

“I discussed this issue with My Son Jesus Christ yesterday in our closed-door meeting in a far-away galaxy, away from the glare of the Holy Throne. My Boy Jesus here intimated to Me that given Chamisa’s helpless cluelessness, it is imprudent for the Heaven brand to be associated with such stupidity and hollow-sounding ‘God is in it’ chants and tweets. Or posts. Whatever you call them on that wretched planet.

“We unanimously agreed that besides all this shitty drama, the colour yellow disgusts us and tarnished our image, and we strongly hate those little pulpits he uses when addressing the masses of the Sheep. We will let SADC do want it wants. Remember even though as Heaven we refused to stand with them during their irksome liberation struggles, they continued to worship us anyway when they got their independence. It has been a hard decision to make. But it must be done. It reminds me that time we forsook the whole of this humanity and saved Noah plus a bunch of animals. Who knows what may happen this time? Do they really want us to climb down from Heaven for this BS?”

At the time of going press, it was incredibly difficult to reach Nelson Chamisa or Promise Mkwananzi for a comment. The Reporters verified credible information from insider sources that Chamisa was deliberating on what next to say since God The Almighty refused to be associated with him. God called on the Angels to withdraw any form of Divine Protection that Chamisa and CCC were enjoying, leaving the yellow party in an extremely precarious position; left only with Bible Verses that lack legitimacy amidst political uncertainty.

Harare Man Wishes If Stream Of Consciousness Could Be Used As Source For Clean, Safe Tap Water In City

 By The Reporters

GLEN VIEW, HARARE – A local Harare man, Tafara Mahofa, ruminating deeply beyond the comprehension of human feeble minds in the streets of Glen View 1, expressed his wish for his stream of consciousness, and that of other comrades, to be used as a source for “safe, clean, humane drinking water” in the beleaguered city.

As if falling into a philosophical trance that could have been arduously turned into a PhD thesis, Tafara Mahofa pointed out with much poignancy, “It is utterly exasperating and absolutely dehumanizing that City of Harare cannot provide clean, safe, humane, mouthwatering and free water out of our taps. I don’t know what their problem is. It is a horrendous experience. Imagine, we’re in 2023. Either the water is not there, or when it’s there, it just comes out in a way that makes you want to vomit. Where do they get that water from? I often wonder. Yet, everyday, I have to sip some from my stream of consciousness. Such a clean source. A clean stream. Natural, for that matter. Clean water.”

He went on, almost rambling, that perhaps it is safe for City of Harare to get the city’s water from the “clean and safe” stream of consciousness. “I’m not really sure how the city engineers and surveyors can lay out and build the pipes to draw water from our stream of consciousness to our taps in our homes. But all I know, and I’m really tired just from thinking about this, is that perhaps the so-called city fathers can use our stream of consciousness as a source for clean and safe water. My stream, and the streams of my comrades, are natural, clean, and safe.”

At press time, The Reporters failed to get a word from the Town Clerk of City of Harare on whether this grand innovative plan to ameliorate the city’s unending water woes is viable. Tafara Mahofa later said that it is particularly the stream of consciousness of writers and other artistes that can be perfectly harnessed for these purposes as it is always “oozing water”.

Tafara Mahofa indicated to The Reporters that it is an utterly fucked up situation, a whole clusterfuck, that the “city fathers” continuously buy brand new cars and stands while people have no water. He suggested it is now time for the “city mothers” to run the city – highlighting the complexity and haphazard nature of his stream of consciousness.

District Man Vows Not To Die Before Climbing And Rocking On Mashwede Village Tables

By The Reporter; Intertwined-Zimbabwe

GOROMONZI - A local district man has reportedly vowed not to die before embarking on an exhilarating thrill of a lifetime; climbing and rocking the tables at the (in)famous Mashwede Village spot in the country's wretched and worryingly decrepit capital, Harare. 

Mr. Musanetseke Pfungwa Masimire, aged 43, intimated to his mesmerized neighbours and family and at the village court at some undisclosed "peasant" location in the vast district of Goromonzi that his only wish before departing this magnificently tortuous Earth was to go for a thrilling night out with his 'boys' to the popular hit Mashwede in Harare's historical high density suburbs for the "best experience of his lifetime" - climbing and rocking the immensely revered and desecrated Mashwede Village tables while loud music from the spot's exasperating speakers destroys his eardrums and Eustachian tubes. 

Addressing his excitable audience, much to "waals" and "ndikokos", Mr.  Musanetseke Pfungwa Masimire bellowed, "The only thing that has refused to leave my mind is Mashwede. I hear the groove in Harare can be pretty wild and releases the stress of providing for lazy wives and children. My only wish before I leave this planet is to go and climb and rock the tables at Mashwede. I also hear that's the best experience of a lifetime consuming the lives of urban yutes and baddies in H-town. Gaya, husiku hwese uchingokwira matebhuru apa ngoma richirira baad wakanamwa zvako nemukwava! Yooo, you guys, I can't wait. Even sabhuku has said 'go ye forth!' and bring back some juicy reports that even H-Metro reporters can't match. Those bloody liars [H-Metro journalists] anyway! Vachatengesa zhet kumukadzi wangu. Gaya." 

Mr. Masimire was reported to have included this supremely indispensable wish into his will; that even if he fails the little USD$50.00 making up his Estate in its entirety must be able to take his two sons Chamu and Biggie to go climb and rock Mashwede Village tables. 

At the time of going to press, The Reporters reached the district man for his invaluable comments on the unverified reports that had proliferated as nasty grapevine [like Robert Mugabe's infinite death rumours] all the way to Ruwa and Murehwa, and he quipped, in a manner betraying his good old days as the best student in O'Level English studies at Goromonzi High, "What you've heard is not a remote possibility. My faith exudes unshakeable belief and optimism. I'm not concerned with Unplugged or any other numerous outdoor 'chills' sprouting in the capital.  My only desire is Mashwede tables and perhaps some DJ Fantan and Levelz music on the loud speakers." 

"Best experience of my lifetime if it comes to fruition.  Don't tell H-Metro, I am my own story. And to the haters saying a district man in his 40s must not visit Mashwede, here's a massive fuck you to you, respectfully."

It is said he will not be hesitant doing the tables and alcohol and loud music with some 'baddies' from the wretched worryingly decrepit capital, Harare.