By Edgar Gabarinocheka
Here in rural Chemutengure, the rains have been both a blessing and a curse. Our fields are bursting with maize taller than our huts, but the heavy downpours have turned our makeshift gold mining pits into muddy traps. It’s the same with democracy, really—sometimes it nourishes us, and sometimes it floods everything, leaving us scratching our heads and wondering what to do next.
Lately, the talk in the village isn’t just about the rains or whose cattle wandered into the wrong field. No, the chatter is about the Constitution and this idea of extending President Mnangagwa’s term to 2030. It’s been loud enough to drown out the sound of the hammer mill. The President, a man known for his measured words, has already said he’s not interested in staying beyond his constitutional two terms. He’s repeated it enough times that asking him again might earn someone the village nickname Nherera Dzakakanganwa Huruva—one who forgets even the obvious.
Yet, here we are. His supporters say he must stay to see Vision 2030 through. They insist that the seeds he has planted—title deeds, economic reforms, and promises of an empowered nation—need him to tend them until the harvest. But democracy, much like our community granary, does not belong to one person, no matter how skillful they may be. It belongs to everyone who shows up, whether they’re bringing a sack of millet or just a handful of peanuts.
Those in favor of the extension should step forward and clearly explain why it’s necessary. If the reason is that the youths, with their love of hashtags, have yet to show leadership ambition, then let that be said. If it’s because there’s confidence that no one else can steer the country towards prosperity, let the case be made. But democracy demands transparency—no whispering in corners or hiding behind the party line.
On the other hand, those opposed must also come out of their safe hideaways. Democracy is not about sitting in the shadows and grumbling like the neighbor who skips every community meeting yet complains about the village borehole. If you think the idea of extending the term is wrong, come forward, speak your truth, and propose an alternative path forward. In the words of one of our elders, “He who cannot hold the hoe should at least point to the weeds.”
The President, ever the diplomat, has left the matter to the people, saying it is not his place to stop those who believe his leadership must continue. But surely, after declaring his intentions so many times, he must wonder if he’s the only one in the room who remembers what was said. To insist that he keeps repeating himself risks turning the man into a metaphorical madman, murmuring the same words into a wind that refuses to listen.
Here in Chemutengure, the debate mirrors our lives. Some elders say the President must stay because they see him as a father figure, steady and reliable, who has guided the country through rough patches. They point to the El Niño drought of 2023, where Minister Masuka assured the nation in December that, despite the dry spell, food remained available, and the haunting queues of 2008 never returned. They recall the dark days of COVID-19, when many perished, but many more survived, thanks to the well-managed lockdowns that kept the worst at bay. And who can forget Cyclone Idai, when Mother Nature turned her back on her children? In those winds and floods, homes were lost, lives were shattered, but the government stepped in to rebuild, brick by brick, life by life. These, they argue, are the marks of a leader who steadies the ship when the storms rage.
Others, particularly the younger generation, scoff at the idea of waiting for their time while elders cling to leadership. “Why not someone young, someone who knows how to use TikTok?” one of them joked, causing laughter at Mai Shupi`s shebeen, God bless the lovely woman, Ice cold beer paruzevha.
The miners, always skeptical, mutter that these debates don’t change the bluntness of their pickaxes. “Extension or no extension,” they say, “our gold still glitters, but we see none of it.” And perhaps that’s the crux of it—whether we extend the term or not, the real measure of leadership is whether it changes the lives of those at the bottom of the hill.
Democracy is noisy, like our pounding rain on a tin roof. But it’s our noise, and it belongs to all of us. Let those who want an extension make their case. Let those opposed stand tall and say why. The table of democracy is wide enough for everyone to lay down their cards, face up. And the President, having said his piece, should not be asked to repeat himself lest we call him mad for saying the same thing over and over.
From this corner of Zimbabwe, where democracy feels as unpredictable as the rains, I remain your faithful Village Intelligence Officer. May we all find the wisdom to navigate these waters, and may the harvest—whatever it may be—be bountiful for all.
