The forgotten vote.
A stroll in the dusty township of Soshanguve, a walk that marks the commencement of a new week. Shacks from scrap zinc sheets have a resemblance of a forgotten people. They make do with what they have in the now. Most of the houses have makeshift bathrooms,water and electricity illegally connected from houses already standing.
There is a familiar sound from my native Shona, it’s a song by a famous artist Hosiah Chipanga. Its content is very political, a tale of the corrupt politician. A few more hundred metres there is still more Zimbabwean music competing in the airwaves, a little Zimbabwe I think to myself. A few metres down the road I greet an elderly lady in the local Sipedi and we chat a little then am reminded that these Zimbabweans are not at home. They are visitors.
July 30 the country elects a new President. All is set and the elections are a go. The voters roll is complete, or is it? The great Simon Chimbetu would have echoed “Pane asipo” translated someone is missing. The Diaspora vote was denied. The current political leadership across all parties concluded that it was of no relevance. I watched a bit of the proceedings on the Diaspora’s vote. It ignited the thoughts of the Jewish Diaspora community after the Second World War, I thought to myself the people outside Zimbabwe have no voice even when we agree that they were pushed out of their dwellings to seek a living.
The double standards of our government are appalling. The Ministry of Finance always has a delegation that courts the Diaspora Investments. They travel endlessly to the United Kingdom and South Africa to seek our money yet we remain illegible to vote. The plight of our people especially the vulnerable and poor in foreign nations makes me shed soulful tears.
There is absolutely no presence of our main political parties in these settlements as the one I always walk past. How about even hiring some buses for those who are willing to register to vote and cast their ballot.
I still don’t get it. Illegal or legal migrants desire a place called home. Tupac would conclude and sing his famous line ” A place where we belong” an excerpt from Thugz Mansion.
See you after the elections.
The forgotten vote.