A Poem by Shepherd Mandhlazi

To survive in Zim,
put on some canvas shoes.
Join a sugar queue.
Ignore the elbows bruising your ribs,
the baton stick on lashing your back.
Buy some sugar,
resale on the black market.
Lay your hands on some money,
the Zim bearer cheques.
Buy some foreign currency,
resale to the reserve bank governor's runners.
Open a grocery store,
increase prices on a daily bases,
blame it all on inflation.
Be a kombi conductor
Give the owner peanuts
And pocket the difference.
Form a pressure group.
an opposition party,
a human rights organization maybe.
The 'donors' will line up to 'sponsor' you.
Have a girlfriend.
A woman,
with a husband in the diaspora.
Utopia!