NB. The poem is loosely based on the questions asked by Zimbabwean youth and the clumsy attempts at response by the adults. Even though the responses of the adults are as fuzzy as an old man's sight, one thing is clear:



THERE WILL NOT BE CAKE FOR CHRISTMAS.

Is he a thief?
Why the handcuffs?
He is a writer,
Wrote about economic plunder.
The state - The "people's" party
Calling his bluff.
Is that your friend
Who gave you the sugar?
That's a black market vendor.
Why are the vendors running?
Why is taxi driver paying the policeman?
Why is the shop closed?
Is the owner diseased?
Nothing to sell,
Politics is dirty.
Is that a house?
Why are we buying fuel there?
Do they still bake bread?
Stupid question!!
There won't be cake for Christmas
Except in houses of ministers.