THE flamboyant figure of Wicknell Chivayo loomed large in death as in life.
His funeral, unsurprisingly, attracted the high and mighty — politicians, socialites, prophets and a healthy sprinkling of professional mourners who show up anywhere there is free catering and a chance to be seen on someone’s Instagram story.
For the first time in years, we were all given a sneak peek into what Zimbabwe’s elite circles look like. Well, they look like regular people, except their outfits cost more than your monthly rent and their perfumes could sedate a small village.
Among the mourners that caught the eye at Wicknell’s funeral wake at his palatial Gletwin mansion were the Pande family, who left women in a frenzied meltdown over their seemingly exotic looks, chic fashion sense and sharp style. Basically, they showed up looking like they walked straight out of a Nigerian movie set while everyone else looked like they were attending a funeral — which, technically, they were.
And then there was Nox Guni and his wife.
Apparently, their appearance drew out all the clowns. In this case, the clowns were not paid professionals with red noses and tiny cars, but rather ordinary citizens armed with Wi-Fi and a startling lack of home grooming.
They thought it amusing to publicly flog Nox Guni’s wife.
Now, Mai Juju has seen many things in her life. She has seen a kombi conductor argue with a granny over change — and lose. She has seen people fight over sadza at a funeral.
But nothing — absolutely nothing — ever prepares you for the sheer, unadulterated wickedness of the internet when a woman dares to exist in a public space.
The crime, according to the jury of Facebook and X, is that Nox Guni’s wife looks older than him. Suddenly, every Tom, Dick and Harriett with a data bundle became a certified dermatologist and age-estimation expert.
They zoomed in. They analysed. They concluded that because Nox has a “baby face”, his wife must be a cradle-snatcher.
Never mind that the man is 43 and his wife is 38.
Since when did a five-year age gap become a national scandal?
But here is where it gets interesting.
The trolling was dominated by fellow women.
Yes, women.
The same women who cry about patriarchy and sisterhood.
But let us be honest.
If we were to subject these trolls to the same scrutiny, would they pass the test?
Mai Juju would bet her best headwrap that half of these critics look like they were assembled by a committee of blindfolded toddlers using spare parts.
These are people whose selfies come with so many filters that their own phones don’t recognise them.
Mai Juju even dares them to post pictures of their own mothers, their own partners or even their own reflection without a filter.
They should let us critique the texture of their hair, the architecture of their noses and the gravitational pull of their cheeks.
Let us see if they are descendants of angels or celestial creatures, because from where we stand, they look like regular people who just happened to find a phone with an internet connection and a data bundle.
Social media has stripped us of all humanity.
We have become so desensitised that we find body shaming hilarious.
We find vile jokes acceptable. We treat human beings as content, not people.
We forget that behind that profile picture is a man or woman of flesh and blood, who feels the crushing weight of these crude jokes just like the rest of us.
Words cut. They wound. They linger. They follow you to the shower, to bed, to your quiet moments when you’re supposed to be at peace.
This, my dear readers, goes beyond mere banter.
This is cyberbullying wrapped in the ugly, cheap paper of entertainment.
All things being equal, the disciples of this practice need to be frogmarched to court. They need to face the music for the emotional distress they cause.
But until the law catches up with the trolls, we must rely on people like Nox Guni.
Kudos to the man for sticking by his woman.
He didn’t hide. He didn’t run. He came out swinging, defending his partner against the digital jackals.
We need more men like him. Men who don’t crumble when the heat turns up.
So, to the trolls, go and find a mirror. And when you find it, take a long, hard look.
And to Nox and his wife, ignore the noise.
The dogs bark, but the caravan moves on.
Ndikoko!
