My Vote and I...
I have been itching to write for a fortnight but the ticking
clock has denied me a minute until this moment.
I don’t know where to begin, so much to share…. I voted in
the 2013 Harmonised Election... but in Bulawayo. I could not vote in Masvingo, which is where I live because I failed to
reregister in my current constituency of residence. My attempt to reregister
involved joining the queue at 5pm after a long day at work. Hungry and anxious
to get out of my heels I stood in the queue for 4 hours before I got
frustrated. Frustrated because the queue wasn’t moving, frustrated because no
one was communicating with us, at least to explain the reason behind the hold
up. So with a heavy heart, an empty stomach and aching feet I LEFT before I could register.
During in the build up towards the election every other
conversation I had was about politics and the direction people would like to
see the country take, I attended a political rally (my very first) and I
pondered long and hard about the issues of my beloved nation.
Initially I had decided that I just would not vote, I would let this one go.
And then…
1. The evening before voting day my mother called to ask me
if I was travelling to Bulawayo to vote.
2. The morning of voting day the
Slayer called me at 4am to tell me that he was on his way to the polling
station.
3. Word from Bulawayo
was that my uncle had travelled from South Africa to cast his vote.
4. Mum and my little
brother were the first people to vote at their polling station having arrived
at 5am.
At that moment, while lying in my bed, it dawned on me that
talking politics, ranting and raving about this and that, attending political
rallies, donning party regalia and blah blah blah is all good, fair and
entertaining. But at the end of the day, when all is said and done in a true
peaceful democracy the ordinary citizen has only one tool to direct the
political direction of the country, and that tool is the ballot. Armed with
that conviction, I was on my way to Bulawayo at 8am, a distance of 294km from
Masvingo.
I am aware that a lot has been said about this election;
what transpired before, during and after it, but that’s a story for another day.
Tea break is over….
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