Have you ever hated someone so bad you wished ill upon them? The last time I had such a morbid feeling was ages ago.
Let’s face it, we all do hate at some point or other in our lives. The moment you are born you have two basic instincts. You love and you hate. No one goes through life without expressing any of the two emotions.
I have done a fair bit of hate in my life. For instance, I hated the teacher who thrashed me because I got my maths wrong back when I was a kid. I wished bad tidings upon that man. I wished he would fall off his bicycle and break his neck as he cycled home after a day of inflicting terror on dumb learners like myself. Of course, he never got to fall off. He returned to school everyday of the week to inflict more pain on us.
After leaving his class, I thought I would find peace with the nice looking mistress who took us for English lessons. My lecherous staring at her invited another beating for crimes real and imagined. I tried my best not to hate her. How can you hate a teacher you love at the same time? I did manage not to hate her, on the expectation that one day after completing school and getting a nice job we would fall in love, have children and live happily ever after.
Instead of hating her, my hatred was transferred to the man who picked her up after school. I hated that man with a passion. I wished so much ill upon him. I took to listening to the radio news to hear reports of the latest car accidents.
Each time a fatal accident was reported, I wished the victim were that man. That man would arrive early at the parking lot, and looking contented with himself, wait in the car for my favourite mistress to arrive. But just like that teacher who thrashed me for flunking my maths, the man seemed protected from all accidents. As the radio news reported one road carnage after the other, week in and week out, the man I hated seemed immune.
Without fail he would always arrive to pick up my mistress. The fact that the man survived forever taught me the futility of hate. I gave up when my mistress arrived at school one day looking happily pregnant. I had lost. Indeed doing hate was futile. I forgave my maths teacher. I also forgave my mistress for not loving me back. I guess I forgave her boyfriend who just would not die. But as the boy became a man, I realized I could not run away from hate. I found more people to hate.
I hated the bloke with whom we competed for the attentions of the prettiest damsel at varsity. My rival drove to school in one of the many cars owned by his family. I hated him so much I wished he would flunk his course.
To my utter disappointment, he was a high flier. How could life be so unfair? I mean the bloke was handsome. His family was loaded. The girls loved him. He drove to classes. He scored high marks. Even the lecturers liked him. I did not know who to hate. Should I hate his parents for being so rich? Perhaps I should hate all rich people, I surmised. Should I hate the girls for liking him? Should I hate the makers of the car he drove? Should I hate the tutors who gave him good marks? Damn, why just not hate the university? Without saying, it goes that he got the girl.
I promptly decided to hate the girl. I also hated her parents. Frustrated, I decided to increase the list. I hated her siblings. I hated their cows at the cattle post and wished they would all die from drought.
All to no avail. The rich boy did not die. Neither did the cows owned by the girl’s father. I finally decided I was done with hate when the love birds got married, had beautiful kids and lived happily ever after just like the couples you see in the movies.
For the past few years I have been a pacifist. I have been a man of peace. I was so peaceful I wouldn’t hurt a fly.
But now the rage is back.
I have been left with no choice. I am again doing hate. I do not wish to inflict physical harm on anyone. I just want the laws of nature to take their course. I feel it’s unfair for innocent people to be dying all because certain people are insensitive and self centered.
My problem is not Old Man alone. My problem is his friends. Just when I thought he would be walking to the gallows soon, they have decided to give him a lifeline. I am so pissed off. I have given up on African leaders. That is why my hate is back. I hate African leaders. I hate them like I hated my maths teacher. Just like I hated the man who took my favourite mistress and refused to die in a car accident. I hate them with the same intensity I hated the bloke at varsity. Just like I hated rich people and makers of the cars they drove.
Everytime I look at the poor Zimbos roaming the streets, I hate the men purporting to be African leaders. I now have one wish. As soon as my wish is granted then I will retire from hate for good. Surely I would have done my fair share of hate. It will be the turn of others to hate. My wish is for all the hopeless African leaders to have another summit. I wish to see them arriving in flashy private jets. I wish to see them admiring the dancers at the airport. I wish to see them ushered into the summit venue. I wish to see them embracing and heartily shaking hands. Then I wish them to return home safely. I wish them to all get the same sensation at exactly the same time. I wish them to realize all at the same time that it is too late to get any help. I wish them to recall embracing each other and shaking hands heartily at that useless summit. I wish them to realize with horror that when they embraced and shook Old Man’s hand, he gave them cholera. I wish cholera upon all of them so that they understand the suffering of the people of Zimbabwe. That is my final wish before I stop doing hate. Cholera upon all African leaders!
