The fast track land reform distribution exercise came with its economic pros and cons. I’m however not concerned with such as it didn’t benefit me in any way.
By Tinashe Mutero
For me and a host of other young Zimbabweans forcefully grabbing our land (a necessary evil)brought with it nightmares, too ghastly to contemplate. It is during this period that families were massively torn apart due to international migration. It is during this period that internal migration did not make sense as the sun was not shining in the city and the rural areas alike.
It is around this period that thousands were made to forcefully migrate to the rural areas during operation Murambatsvina.
All this mess came with a new class in the youth population, masalad. Masalad were mostly young people fro$ well to do backgrounds.
From where I come from doing well meant you had to be out of Zimbabwe.
Bata Shoe Company downsized, ZimAlloys was turned into a cigarettes warehouse and the Mkoba 6 TM shopping complex was turned into a condom stockist, everything was upside down. I also wanted to be a Musalad but my humble background did not allow me that.
My father worked for Bata Shoe Company and he did not have the means to buy us Summer Shirts, tan boots and of course bandanas. The closest that I was to wearing a bandana was when I attended a political rally where they were being distributed for free. I sure managed to get some but with that face emblazoned on it they lacked swag, so I never put one on. Other innovative youths as well as myself sought solace in sporting dreadlocks or unkempt hair (taivharidzira nhamo nekuita chiRasta). It surely saved it’s purpose, at least I didn’t feel out of place especially at College where we had quite a number of masalad in on e place.
We had our first opportunity at changing our fortunes in 2008, the fate of the attempt is public knowledge. In 2008 most young people cast their votes blindly. We voted for party symbols. For me the only person I voted for because of who they were is Nhidza. Nhidza was an aspiring MP for Mkoba who had monies to spent on us and most importantly he believed in young people. Unfortunately the majority did not believe in him and he lost.
Now it’s time for another vote and I won’t waste my vote on party symbols, I more wiser than that. I’m no longer worried of being a musalad, in any case everyone is now a musalad thanks to the inclusive government life is now bearable. Bearable it might be but it’s not the best that Zim has to offer. Today’s election is going to be decided by the salad generation, the salad generation whose majority is jobless, the salad generation and the Rasta community who were beaten kwaChiadzwa.
A generation that parted ways with thousands of dollars to attain a university degree. Though the degrees have failed to give us money they have opened our eyes to see through JUICE. As juicy as JUICE might appear to me it seems as it is mere rhetoric (it is vague to say the least) just like the empowerment program which empowers the empowered.
To get the votes of the salad generation you will not have to waste money on jingles, red cards or whistles. We need plans that work, plans that are pro us. Nothing for us with us, we are ruling our numbers allow us to do that. The numbers might however count to nothing if we we the SALAD and RASTA generation fail to REGISTER TO VOTE.
