A is for Amai.

Higher than “Queen”, “Tsar”, or any colonial and western title, this is the most eminent and coveted designation in the land.

B is for Baba Jukwa.

The worst speller on the internet launched the biggest man-hunt since the search for both Chidhumo and Masendeke, combined.

C is for Charlatans.

Also known as prophets. Give me fuckloads of your money and I will entertain you and promise you good shit every Sunday.

D is for Dancehall.

From “the ghetto”? Have a mouth? Have a monotonous ‘dum-dum-tish, dum-dum-tish…’ beat on your phone? Record a zim dancehall song my man.

E is for Energy Murambadoro.

There are few more spectacular examples of the damage the English language has done to our collective psyche as a cowntry and how we name our children.

F is for Faction.

Faction rhymes with Fiction, which is what the sane individual will scream in disbelief, when filled in on the goings on in the Zany Ruling Party. F is also for Finger. Our print media has dedicated journalists who dutifully report all incidences of Fingering.

G, oh my, G spoils us for options. G is for Gamatox (see “F” above).

G is also for Generator, without one you are well and truly fucked. G is primarily for Grace, combine this with our word for “A” and grown ass politicians shit their pants.

H is for Herald Newspaper.  This publication is what happens when a war veteran has unprotected sex with a Student’s Companion.

I is for Independence.

That revolutionary moment when we as a new cowntry, ended our reliance on colonial governments for civil services, and instead, started relying on NGOs.

J is for Johnso.

Our sharp minister of media, information, twisting truths and spinning falls into something else. Johnso is now on the facebooks and the twitters.

K is for Kaukonde.

Gender-based violence was visited upon this hapless dwarf. His unfortunate televised dressing down by Her Eminence also makes “K” stand for “Kikikiki”. Kikikiki is also the Keynesian term for the state of our economy.

L is for Longchen Plaza.

When the Chinese undertake their economic sodomy, they love to mark their conquests by building garish, pink, dragony phallic symbols. This “plaza” and its siblings along Kingsmead Road and Glenara Road and Mazowe Road and so on and so forth are phallic symbols with syphyllitic tendencies.

M is definitely for Mazowe.

“Mazowe api?  Iwe uri kureva Mazowe api? Mazowe-zowe here kana kuti mamwe Mazowe?”. Enough said.

N is for NGO.

The new missionaries. The benevolent benefactors. The totally non-partisan entities sent by Jesu Kristo, down from the very Heavens, riding on the wings of angels, to save the snorty African kid with the swollen tummy and the buzzing fly from himself, his conditions and the uncivilized savagery he finds himself in! While here, I will have a “house suitable for NGO”, a 4×4, hazard leave, return flights, embassy parties, fuck you remuneration, unlimited access HIFA tickets, my pick of the intelligent natives and obedient local staff, for my troubles, thank you very kindly.

O is for Oliver Mtukudzi.

He had to leave Zim, record and be marketed in Joburg, before the bougie set in Zim could claim him as “our icon”. South African afro-jazz heads will tell you he is from “like Limpopo province or somewhere there”.  Which reminds me that O is also for Oskido.

P is for Patrick Chinamasa.

Our Minister of Finance’s English accent is a revolutionary movement all on its own. If the British had heard this bloke speak their language, they would have abandoned their colonial quest in despair in the 1950s. The position of Minister of Finance in Zimbabwe is like being called Mayor of the moon. This poor civil service wages clerk had to carry the Budget Briefcase into the house of parliament and waffle for 2 straight hours … and you thought your job was hard … well, the job you would have if those things existed in these parts.

Q is for Quiet Diplomacy.

I love Thabo Mbeki. I am his number one fan. He is the greatest president we shall never have. Zuma has made South Africans appreciate him with each scandal that passes. He fucked up on Zim though, we weren’t his responsibility or anything, ah but he fucked us up good with that quiet nonsense.

R is for Rock Diesel.

Zimbabwe has always had a fuckload of PhDs in its line-up of cabinet ministers. On one fine sunny day a few years ago, the most educated ones took off their shoes and brains and sat down on the bare ground, clapping and  chanting, to allow a spirit medium to extract BP High Performance Diesel from a confused granite boulder.

S is for St Johns College.

Not to be confused for “the maroon one” – how dare you. This bastion of Rhodesian resistance to “those blacks” is impressive in its resolve. Smith giggles in his grave everytime a darkie applies for a place. As its piece de resistance, this school has a rugby first team which would spontaneously combust if it had more than one black player. It’s like a feeder team for the South African Springboks.

T is for Tsvangirai.

Despite the aesthetic challenges to his face, this bloke could be in his third term as president of this cowntry. Him and his party have won both the presidential and parliamentary elections many times over but always lose the plot when the Zany Party tightens the screws on him. His loins also trouble him greatly; a fire rages wild within them which is kindled and stoked by chubby light-skinned women.

U is for Uzumba-Maramba-Pfungwe.

I have no idea where the fuck this joint is – or if it really exists. But EVERY Zimbo knows its name. UMP is the Florida of Zim politics. It is the swing state, whatever the fuck that means. One minute Zany PF is behind by 3 546 768 votes, Uzumba-Maramba-Pfungwe votes come in, with 9 750 registered voters, by the time the votes are counted and Morgiza has disembarked from a chubby light-skinned floozy, Zany PF is now ahead by 15 million votes.

V is for Victoria Falls.

Top on the list when any Zimbo  brags about Zim. BUT, that statue  of bleeding David Livingstone is the centre piece of the falls experience ka! The  BEST cabinet minister of 2014 pretends it doesn’t exist. This comrade also ignores that the Falls experience caters for old Europeans with colonial explorer fantasies – and their women with dreadlocked native fantasies. Ha!

W is for water.

I have heard stories of how this mythical liquid used to flow in pipes and gush out of taps in homes, schools and related structures. My grandfather, Thor bless his soul, told me anecdotes of how he would stand under a spinneret, turn a little knob, and a dizzying rush of clean water would shoot out and he would bathe himself in this manner. I shall share these stories with my grandchildren and their children so they never forget where we came from as a people.

X is for “X”.

This simple letter has been the cause of much chagrin and gnashing of teeth in our sunny cowntry. Lots and lots of Xs were marked onto pieces of paper on July 31st 2013. Some of them vanished and appeared in a different section of the paper; some took off mysteriously with their papers and were found in rivers; others still suddenly appeared already marked on papers belonging to dead people. X is the dodgiest letter in the Zim alphabet.

Y is for YemaRasta.

Hayipotse. Yakati twi, semureza weZimbabwe. Apa musoro wakamira kunge we gumkum. Zvakadaro, bhora vachimhanya naro ana dread, ku book cafe, alliance francais, nedzimwe nzvimbo dzakangodaro-daro. Pamberi nemusangano!

Z is for ZESA.

Zesa is the back-up power supply of the cowntry. It usually comes to the rescue when your candles, generators and inverters are running on low. In the spirit of SADC, and the Frontline States, Pan-Africanism and so on and so forth, ZESA has now taken ESKOM under its wing and is providing expert tutelage on becoming a truly African service provider.