Online Reporter
You can’t make this up!
WHAT started as a simple business plan between a police officer and her beau has exploded into a Zimbabwean telenovela so packed with plot twists it would make a soap opera writer blush.
Forget “The Bold and the Beautiful” — this is “The Shameless and the Seriously Disorganised”.
Our stars are Fortunate Tibu, a keeper of the peace, and Nobert Chifeya, a disturber of it.
Their dream? To open a maternity clinic.
Their execution? A masterclass in mamparadom.
Their unregistered baby-delivery hub, christened “Mbuya Nyarai”, opened in Budiriro 5B.
It was shut down so fast that it must have made their heads spin. But not before several babies were successfully delivered. This, however, was nothing compared to the mountain of lies Nobert was delivering on a daily basis.
You see, while Fortunate believed she was Nobert’s leading lady, a police investigation (and probably some good old-fashioned gossip) revealed she was actually contestant number 14 in his personal love pageant.
Nobert, a married man, was apparently conducting a symphony of seduction with 13 other women — a logistical feat requiring the organisational skills of a military general and the moral compass of a cartoon villain.
The romantic bubble burst when Fortunate discovered that Nobert’s wife, Ellen, was very much alive and kicking, contrary to his claims that she had “passed on”.
Betrayed and presumably out of data from checking his Facebook, Fortunate teamed up with another of Nobert’s “contestants”, Chiedza, to form the “Jilted Ladies Justice League”.
Their mission: to make Nobert’s life as complicated as his love life.
Nobert, in a confession that deserves its own reality show, stated: “I am a married man, but I fell in love with Fortunate. We opened a clinic together. I had deliveries before it was closed.”
This is a beautifully vague statement that leaves us wondering if he is a part-time gynaecologist or a full-time excuse factory. He then played his victim card, claiming Fortunate used her police powers to drag him to the station more times than she dragged him on dates.
The drama dial was cranked up when she allegedly brought in her relative, Yaphet, introduced as a fearsome central intelligence officer.
The terrifying truth? Yaphet was a security guard.
A heartbroken Fortunate lamented: “It was only after I had bought almost everything that I learnt of his other relationships.”
She had taken loans and sold her car.
Meanwhile, Ellen, the wife of 14 years, could only offer a world-weary sigh: “My husband is a known womaniser. You have written about him before. He never learns!”
She is less a scorned woman and more a tired historian documenting his endless reign of error. Once famous for juggling a mere nine women, Nobert has now smashed his own personal best, reaching a staggering 15 concurrent relationships. It is less a love life and more a full-time administrative job with very, very complicated scheduling.
In the grand tragicomedy of life, these two have proven that in the army of fools, there are special ranks. And officers Fortunate and Nobert? They have just been promoted to General Mampara, First Class.
