Hello, my friends.
It has been yet another week of shock and horror.
Just as the dust was settling on the abrupt passing of Babongile Sikhonjwa, I learned early Friday morning of the sudden death of our beloved politician and poet, Desire Moyo.
The hair-raising manner of his death has left many people stunned, with more questions than answers.
Ever the positive guy, Desire endeared himself to thousands across the city, not just within his constituency.
Who will forget when he boldly insisted in Parliament that the IsiNdebele language shouldn’t be translated if Shona wasn’t going to be?
He closed his argument with the iconic punchline, “akunyararwa lutho”!
I recall him speaking at the official memorial service of the late Babongile Sikhonjwa, where he emphasised the significance of getting people’s names right.
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I mention this because I repeatedly heard someone referring to him as “Moyoxen.” It’s Moyoxide, dear.
Rest in eternal peace, Moyoxide.
A note to the academic writers.
So, I heard there was a lot of flak and a witchhunt directed at me last week due to my comment on Maxine’s shocking behaviour at the Bulawayo Theatre.
Kikikiki, what a joke! I guess these are new members, who don’t know that every week, this space features comments on different personalities and their actions.
Let me share a bit of journalism education: this is NOT a formal article or a “composed” story, as someone said.
It is a gossip column.
Therefore, the language used here is colloquial, unlike a formal news report.
There is a stark difference between soft content and hard content. Ask those who went to university for this thing, alright?
If you pay particular attention to language and style (as we did in literature back in the day), you will notice this is written in a first-person narrative, my friends.
Kikikiki. Perhaps they should first comprehend the difference between composing a story and giving a practical comment on a transpired event before attempting to lecture me on academic writing.
Clout Chasing?
I must say, as a society, we have become a lame joke when it comes to clout chasing.
Earlier this week, I attended a “cancer awareness campaign” in one of Bulawayo’s leafy suburbs, and boy, was it anything but that!
The event was just about people wearing pink, eating pink cupcakes, and vibes.
Not once was there any education on cancer, well, while I was still there, anyway. The event started two hours late, and I eventually left.
For the sake of their dignity, I will not name the institution today, but it is a prominent organisation.
It felt like a get-together in the name of something as serious as a funeral. Literally.
Thank you, our advocates
I say kudos to actress Nonduduzo Ncube (Maliwe) and Cite podcaster Brighton “BeeFactor,” who both use their Facebook pages to advocate for pertinent issues in the Matabeleland region.
The two have bravely taken on what many people choose to ignore.
BeeFactor, keep up the advocacy, my brother.
I saw you raising awareness about the abuse our young students endure during internships. You are definitely not a waste of space online.
Here comes (or goes) the bride?
A friend asked me if I had noticed that Bulawayo City Council cultural and heritage officer Nomashawekazi Damasane, aka Lady Tshawe, has become a notable visitor in rural Nkayi.
I told her I was unaware, but I did hear Ntando Van Moyo mention it on stage last week.
Apparently, she has also been spotted exchanging pleasantries with a very much beloved young chief from Matabeleland North, who is an avid supporter of the arts.
Did I mention that her car bears a striking resemblance to the one belonging to Chief Mbuso Dakamela, another popular figure in the local arts scene?
Oh, how I would love to attend a royal wedding, kikikiki. It all seems so dreamy.
DJ Shitshow
On Sunday night, a friend tagged me in posts about the third annual “Face of Bulawayo” pageant at the Bulawayo Theatre. Oh boy, oh boy, where do I start?
The event itself was a success and well-organised, if I forgive them for starting on “African time.”
The entertainment was impeccable, and Bulawayo’s talent shone bright. The issue was the DJ, who brought a whole new meaning to “shitshow.”
The first bizarre thing I noticed was that although we were at the Face of Bulawayo, his entire playlist was made up of songs from Harare.
As the models strutted, not a single local song was played.
I can understand one, two, or even three songs, but the entire playlist?
No, man. You are the definition of tone-deaf.
Last week I spoke of the need for social intelligence; were you not aware of where you were?
Adding insult to injury, he kept switching songs off mid-track until the crowd sang, “into oyenzayo siyayizonda DJ” (what you are doing, we hate it, DJ).
As if that wasn’t enough, he ignored cues from performing artists when they guided him on their tracks.
I can’t blame co-MC Muziwenkosi Sigidi-Moyo for the ear-scratching sound quality, no matter how softly he tried to speak.
However, not knowing the names of the artists he called to the stage is on him.
The nonchalant host saw nothing wrong with chewing and popping gum while addressing us on stage. What did I say about social intelligence? Kikikiki.
A hearty congratulations to Mandisa Mdluli, who was crowned the winner. All the best wishes to you, young lady, during your tenure.
*I am always available on Instagram @SouthernEye/@SE. Anyone can reach out anytime, my friends, okay?
