Ghetto Blast:- Today’s kids: Miracle needed

demeanour consistent with drunkenness.
Psychedelic lights in the bar and mirrors that adorned the dance floor drove her mad. Her heels must surely have cracked at that moment.
She left her satchel under the table where a malfunctioning zipper exposed textbooks, exercise books, old exam papers and a red ruler.
Illusive coins for her fare back home were in the side pocket of the satchel together with other paraphernalia associated with those of the fairer sex.
Portia’s youthfulness accounted for the energy she exuded, capturing the imagination of patrons who were whiling up time in the dingy bar. Waist-wiggling which made the greatest part of her dance routine sent patrons into delirium with many cheering her on.
Others buried their hands under her skirt with only a handful complaining: “What is this child doing in the bar?”
Unbeknown to the girl, a burly chap she was sitting next to poured a potent spirit into her drink and kept buying her ciders until she could take no more.
The moment she started staggering and vomiting, the “Good Samaritan” wiped sweat from his furrowed brow, lifted her to his car and drove off with a broad smile. Maisa kwadzo nyemba kutsva dzarungwa.
Where he took her, gentle reader, constitutes a long discussion for another day. Such are the happenings in bars, especially during this time of the year when people generally have more disposable income.
Young and inexperienced schoolgirls who have just written their Ordinary Level examinations are adding to the delight. And like gentle lambs led to slaughter, the girls laugh foolishly and nervously at any joke thrown at them.
“Ah . . . ah mukuwasha. Siyanai nesu tirikumbotamba humhandara,” you are told by these young girls of today if you try to warn them about the dangers of going too far.
Most of these girls frequent industrial sites where their “manfriends”, sorry lovers, run dubious fly-by-night companies. The moment some girls finish writing their exams, they feel it’s time to experiment. But some of these trials claim the soul of the researcher, leaving her cursing the decision to find out.
“Look not what boils in another’s pot,” people are told but they take no heed.
This is the exact time your daughter will be receiving a call and express how deeply and dearly they love the person on the other end without caring to know how you feel about it.
Some girls will even invite lads with dropped shorts for lunch at your expense in your house and make sham introductions.
Gentle reader, raising a daughter is one thing, but quite another to bring her up morally upright.
A visit to bars downtown will show you how wild these girls have become. There are very young girls who are frequenting bars and eager to escort any male adult capable of buying them a cider or two.
Hugs, kisses and demands for cash are no anathema.
“Hii, blaz. Ndizvo zvamavakuita nhai. Ingonditengeraiwo one todhuukirwa zvedu. Purezha mazuva ano yakadirwa sugar,” the girls will whisper in your ear.
Even the way they dance to the music is not right. They usually do this while donning clothes that truly define their body contours or even wearing outfits which make no difference with someone walking in the nude. There seems to be an unwritten law somewhere that the moment someone writes O’ Level, they become law unto themselves.
Even their language changes. The way a parent is addressed is as if they are barking orders on the family pet. Even people in a war zone do not behave that way. Igombototo remashura ezviratidzo zvirikuitwa nevana vemazuva ano.
I feel sorry for schools that host leavers’ parties for their alumni immediately after writing their exams.
The way the children behave at those parties leaves a lot to be desired. Some teachers are called by their first names while others are beaten up on this day.
Beer will be consumed in the school hall with cigarette smoke forming a film just above people’s heads. At leavers’ parties, some pupils engage in abominable acts with others falling pregnant on the same day.
It can be disaster if you try to advise these kids and something even worse if you try to go physical.
As I commit pen to paper gentle reader, some parents are now choosing to stay at work until very late for fear of being persecuted by their own children.
They also now have limited stories with neighbours for fear of being told sad tales about their children’s misdeeds. The focus here on the girl child is not to mean the boys are saints.
The way these young lads are downing those potent brews called Zed, Tambirano, Lawidzani and Kenge is so disheartening. The boys will sell anything they can lay their hands on to buy smoke and a few beers.
If the family wheelbarrow goes missing, before calling the police you are best asking them first because their minds seem to tell them that anything valuable should be sold.
Budgeting with these children of today is a nightmare. They wake up like witches in the dead of the night to cook and allot themselves copious amounts of food they cannot finish. A good number of children host parties while their parents are away at work.
Staying with your children is a real cat and mouse affair. You always come second best when it comes to spending and abuse of family property.
Our wives also compound the problem.
“Musadaro vana. Inga mainetsawo wani. Siyanai naye nekuti mhembwe rudzi. Doro haridhake asinganwe,” they chide you and offer you comfort against the backdrop of plunder.
My prayer is just for these children of today to appreciate how precious life is.