"Boys Will Be Boys": A Guest Contribution by John Eppel

I love John Eppel's work; he is one of my absolutely favourite Zimbabwean writers. I will not forget the first time that I read one of his novels, The Giraffe Man, which I had bought with part of my handsome subwarden payout. I remember lying on my bed in New Hall and reading the dedication that made me laugh and like him immediately :"for those boys and girls who shouldn't have gone to boarding school".  I had the priviledge of sharing a metaphorical podium with John, he was one of the three top-placed writers in last year's Mukuru Naya award for comic writing. He has kindly agreed to let me publish this satirical take on the ongoing negotiations that are supposed to bring in a New Zimbabwe.  Enjoy. 

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The scene was set for talks which would redeem Zimbabwe.  The party in power renamed itself PAPA (Popular Association of Patriotic Ascendants), while the party in opposition renamed itself DADDY (Democratic Association of Do or Die Yeomen).  A neutral venue had been chosen deep in the South African platteland, a holiday resort on a golf course designed by acolytes of Sol Kerzner to cater for the world’s wealthiest tourists, who may be separated into four categories: sporting heroes, film stars, CEOs, and government ministers. Zimbabwe was on the brink of civil war.  The economy had collapsed, and with it the rule of law as well as the once admirable ethical system based on what Kenyans call harambee, where the welfare of the community at large takes precedent over solipsists who think that the world exists for their pleasure, a pleasure most frequently located in the belly and the loins. 

These talks had to succeed.  

Both sides had to make compromises in order to establish some kind of power-sharing government that would draft a new constitution, a level playing field, as the politicians like to put it, so that future elections could be free and fair, as the politicians like to put it.  A memorandum of understanding had been signed, a mediator from a neutral country had been appointed (an eminent person who dressed and behaved like the stereotype of an English gentleman, paradoxically, because he detested the English).

“Shall we begin?” purred the mediator puffing on a Dunhill pipe stuffed with Three Nuns tobacco.  His silver grey Saville Row suit exuded a pleasant aroma of English Leather, which blended synaesthetically with the rich caramel of his Chivas Regal whisky, taken not neat, not on the rocks, not with soda, but with an equal measure of tap water.  His choice of tipple set the tone, and all the delegates around the table were fondling glasses of the aforementioned scotch: doubles. 

PAPA: We as the party in power are ‘concerned about the recent challenges that we have faced as a country and the multiple threats to the well-being of our people’. 

DADDY:  We as a two-pronged opposition are in the process of ‘dedicating ourselves to putting an end to the polarisation, divisions, conflict and intolerance that have characterised our country’s politics’.  

PAPA:  We are ‘determined to build a society free of violence, fear, intimidation, hate...er... patronage, corruption, and founded on justice, fairness, openness, transparency, dignity and equality’. 

DADDY: We recognize the ‘centrality and importance of African institutions in dealing with African problems, and agreeing to seek solutions to our differences, challenges and problems through dialogue under the auspices of the...er... SADC mediation, supported and endorsed by the African Union....’ 

PAPA: We are desirous of ‘entering into a dialogue with a view to returning Zimbabwe to prosperity’. 

DADDY: And we recognize ‘that such a dialogue requires agreement on procedures and processes that will guide the dialogue’. 

“Good, that’s very good,” purred the mediator taking a sip of his Chivas Regal and tamping the bowl of his pipe with a horny forefinger.  Are you ready to sign?”

PAPA: Not quite.  It has come to our notice that our...er...colleagues from DADDY were given the table with the best view in the wine garden. 

DADDY: And it has come to our notice that our...er...colleagues from PAPA have minibars in their rooms, while we - 

PAPA: You have en suite bathrooms and- 

DADDY: We never get a chance to use the spa because you - 

PAPA: Well, what about those girls you were allowed to take into your rooms while we- 

DADDY:  Shutup! 

PAPA: No, you shutup! 

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” purred the mediator , striking a third match in the serene process of re-lighting his pipe, “let’s have another scotch.  Waiter!  And while we’re about it, let’s find another venue, a five star resort where you will be guaranteed equal treatment.  I know a place outside Jo’burg, which serves the finest champagne in the world.  And the waitresses are topless.” 

DADDY: Bottomless too, I hope.  Mine’s a double. 

There was much mirth at this joke, and as the glasses were re-charged - doubles nudged into trebles - PAPAS and DADDIES shook each others’ hands and slapped each others’ backs, and playfully punched each others’ shoulders.  After all, boys will be boys.