The Sunday News
AFTER a stunning Kodak moment which earned him a global standing ovation, photojournalist Kevin Carter took his life. The sometimes crazily-cruel world had just made a U-turn and subjected his diligent effort to destructive criticism.
He was labelled “inhumane” for his 1993 award-winning photograph when he zoomed and captured a famine-stricken Sudanese girl in agony. The frail girl was being closely monitored by a vulture as she struggled to gather energy attempting to reach a United Nations feeding center in Ayod, South Sudan.
Devoid of any knowledge regarding the ethics of journalism, critics later stoned Carter with questions and the hapless South African succumbed to pressure and committed suicide in 1994. Hopefully the Lord received his informative soul.
But what could he have done besides celebrating semiotics and sharing the tales of the Sudanese mass starvation with the Humanitarian world? In all frankness and fairness, he could not have done anything more, death was already knocking at the little girl’s door.
You see, these scavenger birds called vultures are very evil and heartless. At times they prey on extremely sick and infirm prey. Those not familiar with their tendencies can mistake them for sympathisers as they keep the prey company in its last moments. Vultures can fly thousands of miles for prey, thanks to their brilliant vision and a very sharp sense of smell.
The sudden interest by opposition figures in surrounding Morgan Tsvangirai has raised eyebrows and sent tongues wagging among people of more research with some saying it could be a clear indication that something is soon-to-be malodorous in the opposition landscape. This indeed holds some grain of truth. Tsvangirai’s political death shadow is hovering over his head, as he nears his final straw in 2018. We saw it coming though.
My lens is capturing vultures surrounding a Tsvangirai who is struggling for clues in his endeavour to reach for international attention. The vultures are so many that I struggle to locate him. Unfortunately, the dying opposition godfather thinks he is being kept company yet the stalkers he mistakes for allies are just waiting for his last breath so they could devour him as they vie for visibility on the opposition landscape, a conduit to donor appeal.
They also probably think biting off a sizeable chunk from this opposition demigod can make them get some of his powers. But what powers? The recent confusion in tongues with the NPP deputy, Samuel Sipepa Nkomo having set the ball rolling, aptly subjecting Tsvangirai’s chances of recovery to contention, highlights the real motives behind the muted coalition. It has nothing to do with the people but a struggle for visibility.
I can be subjected to all sorts of criticism but sadly, there is nothing I can do to save Tsvangirai except to keep zooming. I have to show the political world the circumstances surrounding a frail and clueless politician. Who knows? He might be helped. I hear some have dreamt of his imminent political death and have flown from as far as the United States of America, just to join others in monitoring his condition closely, lest they miss out on the wake. One of these is called Evan Mawarire.
Wow! Blessed are those with a very sharp sense of smell for they shall join the wake!
I hope this Kodak moment won’t usher me to my early grave like Carter who was indirectly stoned to death by the unaccepting world, or make me relive the fate of that biblical Stephen. All the same, should you decide to stone me, read Galatians 4:16 before you cast the first stone. I just felt the moment was worth capturing and memorable for future generations. Pardon me;
I just couldn’t ignore the spectacle. I am neither heartless nor inhumane, I am just celebrating semiotics.
I just positioned my lens and clicked on a frail and politically-stricken Tsvangirai who has on record languished in political famine characterised with scarcity in strategy and ideology. He has never been a regular shopper at the market of ideas and has over the years surrounded himself with vessels synonymous with questionable advisory credentials like one Dr Alex Magaisa who dismally failed to advise him on pertinent political matters, before scurrying for cover in the United Kingdom.
And how the fellow makes noise, I wonder what kind of a vessel he is! As the world counts down to Tsvangirai’s political demise in 2018, a handful of contemptible individuals of very low weight and standing in any scale of values are surrounding him. Flocking in volts like the National Electoral Reform Agenda (Nera) and Code, a number of political predators have landed at “his” Highlands residence in the capital to sign MoUs as they set out to execute their usual politics of the belly.
Although the word “understanding” is invisible in the matrix, Dr Joice Mujuru and Professor Welshman Ncube have since signed MoUs with Morgan. Other parties like Elton Mangoma’s Renewal Democrats of Zimbabwe and Tendai Biti’s People Democratic Party (PDP) and an array of other little known formations have also highlighted some appetite in surrounding Tsvangirai in an impatient wait for that last heartbeat.
On the other hand, those who have been preying on him all along are displaying egocentric and greedy tendencies as they want to feast alone. I hear Thokozani Khuphe, in particular, was not happy with his ailing godfather signing MoUs with Welshman and Mujuru. And tapping from semiotics; how Nelson Chamisa looked incapacitated the day Joice Mujuru landed at Highlands!
For the past 17 years, the opportunities vicious fellows haven’t fully convinced the electorate on how they intend to bail out the country from this economic quagmire. The noise makers strive on visibility and they cannot miss an opportunity to be visible. Now they are seeing a failed and fading soul and looking forward to taking over. It is the survival of the fittest in the opposition jungle.
A certified loser in his own right, Tsvangirai has caused voter apathy in his former strong holds and has lost favour in the hearts of the electorate, those close to him and his handlers. They all want him out. His so-called counterparts know they can not resuscitate him back to life, save for accompanying him to his political grave, via their bellies of course.
Those preying on him can however, be vindicated because common sense has it that Tsvangirai will never recover. Of course it has been a tiresome journey to nowhere, but 17 years in politics should have taught him something. Foretelling his own demise and speaking as though he was on American Embassy soil, before likening himself to Trump, while addressing workers and spoiling their day in Harare, he declared that he won’t accept defeat to President Mugabe in 2018, and that he will accept nothing besides victory.
In regret, Tsvangirai is now singing along R Kelly’s lyrics; “and now I’m sinking, sinking to rise no more”. Sadly, he can’t turn back the hands of time. He is going down.
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