Let me explain…
I’ve got a young buddy in Kitwe. He’s the father of two sons and is married to a tiny, five and half foot tall Nsenga wife who beats the stuffing out of him if he doesn’t do what she says when she says it.
The sad thing is he thinks all this abuse is his fault and thus he deserves it and somehow he’s doing his husbandly duty to her, his sons and God by taking her uncalled for unmitigated schlock.
It’s about the closest thing to Hell on Earth I’ve ever seen.
Its right up there with watching a six foot Michelle Obama do the Tango with that poor little dude in Argentina as Obama was —with that- suggestively-sexually- err—err–starved lady—Hey! That was some scary shiitake, eh? Anyway…let’s not digress.
This crazy little Nsenga chick belittles my young buddy in public and has no problem whatsoever verbally undressing him in front of whomever—wherever. The Nsenga lady has no filter and no governor.
I don’t get it folks. I really do not get why the heck he puts up with her. It’s like dealing with a rabid, Soweto Market street kid bully on a golden handpicked flue cured joint of Malawi marijuana. She’s foul. Simply, foul.
Trying to figure all this stuff out I asked him one day, when he managed to slink away from her all seeing, belittling eye, if what happened in the bedroom was why he put up with that rank, little hater. I was trying to make some kind of sense out of why, in the name of all that is holy and sane, would he put up with her. My young buddy sadly informed me that from a sexual standpoint he’s getting nada. As in nothing. Zilch. Zippo!
This left me in a lurch.
What man in his right frame of mind would tolerate such evil?
So—I asked him if she is from some rich Jarebo family in Kitwe. Is that it? And nope…she’s as broke as a Devils Street night queen on a mid-month Sunday afternoon stroll in Lusaka’s Emasdale Township.
Dear God. What kind of Nsenga hoodoo voodoo has this vixen vexed him with?
It’s pretty disgusting. My young buddy has become a fraction of what he used to be. Before he was married he was great, fun loving young dude. Now, he’s a raccoon-eyed, dispirited shell of a man. Me and my alpha male friends have advised him to tell her to blank off, divorce her and sue her for the kids; but he won’t.
He blames himself, makes excuses for her behaviour and even takes counselling classes from the Church to make him a better husband even though she won’t alter one damn thing of what she does.
This left me thinking, “Whoa—my young buddy has officially morphed into the PF and all its petrified top leadership.”
That’s exactly how the PF cows before the Cartel and some media houses.
Check it out: The Cartel says: ba PF…please accept us back…We love you more than we loved your great leader late Michael Sata… We long for a new life together with you. And the next thing you know they’re screaming at you in their newspaper and trying to destroy your character, Party and all your members by tapping your phones, eves dropping on your campaign strategy, coercing your strategic party members to defect to the opposition, stealing your government classified documents and publishing untruths about them and the entire PF leadership.
A normal…sane…well organized political party with solid members of substance in power would press the delete button and send the violent, nuttier, invading and implacable phone tapping viruses to extinction. But the PF, like my battered young buddy, thinks it’s all their fault. They even call for divine intervention through the Church and pray for peace. C’mon!
The PF have all the signs of a battered spouse syndrome. They deny what’s happening or they try to minimize it in order to avoid dealing with the actual real danger they’re truly facing this election year.
They take verbal abuse from the Cartel and then sit there in befuddled wonderment when the Cartel follows through with all manner of abuse and eves dropping on their intimate bedroom conversations – stealing their secrete government documents while asking themselves, “What happened? I didn’t see that coming.” And I’m screaming at THEM, Yes, you did see it coming! You just chose to view the Cartel invasion through your Hello Kitty, rose-coloured glasses. The same glasses the Cartel used to brutalize Fredrick Chiluba to his early death and kicked Rupiah Banda out of State House hardly 5 years ago.
What more does the Cartel have to do before the PF wakes the heck up from its petrified slumber and put up a fight like real men?
The Cartel, like my young buddy’s little bride, tells the PF they hate them and they’re going to kill and finish them off and, yet, the PF doesn’t believe it’s going to happen; or they’re self-deceived to such a degree that they think they can, with the help of some Bishops and priests at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, exorcise and talk the Cartel away from a malevolent national view that does not include the PF. No—ways guys! You don’t underestimate how the Cartel works; they’re the master minds behind the inter-party violence, they’ll simply mutate- adapt and reattach to your fat-neck proteins while they eat you up slowly to extinction! Go ahead! Give the Cartel the other chick—you’ll be sorry you did.
So, keep on living in denial, ba PF. Keep blaming yourself. Keep telling yourself that with the help of the Church it’ll “get better.” Seriously-you’re sure? Well it’s up to you. Keep on cutting slack for the Cartel and excusing their verbal abuse and see what happens. I predict it won’t end pretty.
Or…or…if you don’t have the courage, drink a neat shot of double John Walker Platinum or pour it on crushed ice, then slap yourself in the face and say to yourself, “PF…you’re better than this. You’ve never taken nonsense. You don’t deserve this. Your good has been taken advantage of and, starting right now, the Cartel can officially kiss my backside and stop abusing me because I’m not going to live like a terrified slave to your verbal and physical abuse any longer.”
The Cartel is like ISIS. They’ve a huge network of cells. Some have been presidential advisors in as far back as the Kenneth Kaunda era while others are still serving as government civil servants and others are businessmen and Bank owners whom with their mere close association with late president Sata found open doors wherever they strolled in government offices. But all these people mutate and identify themselves with the PF at the slightest suspicion of being identified. And they’ll not cut deals with those they consider infidels. You either join them—or like ISIS, they leave you headless. And they’ve nothing more to lose than the PF this election. Remember Mr Sata supported by Chiluba almost won the 2006 elections, but he became their sworn enemy until he embraced them for the 2008 and 2011 elections.
Remember Rupiah Banda’s presidency he was supported by Chiluba and the hate media he endured when he became independent of the Cartel cells and as recently as a month ago, realising the Rainbow Party was taking them nowhere, they descended on young Hakainde Hichilema whom they had branded a Bantustan barker- they sent one senior Cartel emissary after another instilling fear in him and promising him huge campaign funds and assistance. Like my young buddy in Kitwe.
Hichilema was cowed into submission and was last week rewarded with all sorts of defectors, strategic or not, from the PF and all. Until these recent events of defectors, I was unable to decode to whom or for what Hakainde’s apology reported in the Post Newspaper was all about?
But all I can say is that 4 months is still a long way to go- if the PF doesn’t get rid of its ‘Battered Spouse Syndrome’ — accept that this threat is real – their hold to elected office will be in the casualty ward by election day—this inter-party violence is just a tiny tip of this encoded conspiracy—they’ve to deal firmly and head on with the Cartel and its various cells spanning from some foreign diplomatic service personnel who’ve been promised investment opportunities in Zambian mining, to Bank and other businesses owners and some media houses including some church leaders and even some serving government officials—I can assure you— the end will be messy.
Ignore at your own peril!
Just a thought,