adminRosenthal Mutakati Ghetto Blast
I almost missed an important assignment last Thursday when an old acquaintance of mine who was worse for wear and limping owing to smelly tight torn shoes he was wearing ran after me to the car park with juicy tales about people we grew up with in Glen Norah.
He spent a good 30 minutes nauseating me with tales on who was in love with who, who had made it in life, who among people in our hood was living large and who needed to be “fixed” for not plying elders with beer.
In that horrible and forgettable half an hour, the bloke had informed me about everything from the good to the bad and ugly about people who matter less to me.
I know the people yes, but I do not want to know that which stews in their pots.
To my chagrin, the conversation was not to end before he had asked for cash.
“Mufana urikurova vhiri remberi. Wakapinda wangu. Ndisoterewo hangu kaUS$5 kekutenga twudoro kana musvuto,” he said before limping off on receipt of the bill.
Only God knows what he said about me to the next bloke he met.
And the world is full of such people.
There are countless characters in the communities in which we live who make it a point to want to know what happens in the life of the guy next door.
“Matsemuraz”, “Vatengesi”, “Vemakuhwa”, “Vaululi vegule”, “Daily News”, “Ziana”, and “Zimwaya”, are names that have been coined in reference to such people who unfortunately make a significant number of people we live with in the ghetto.
If someone has wronged you and you want the message delivered, you simply mention it to these people and your anger will be talked of in its rightful colours with a chance of your sentiments being amplified.
Everywhere you go, you are bound to see such people.
Among the rich and the poor there are people who make it a point to dip their noses in matters that have nothing to do with them.
A common factor among these people is that they appear to be accommodative and reasonable individuals who will never leave one of their own in mental torture.
“Dzimwe dzenyaya, ndaitokurukura naye mufunge mhai/Ko ndaiziveiko kuti ndirikuzvitengesa?/Watadza kunyarikana nepamusana pekusazvibata/Madhawu haudaro,” sang sungura maestro Alick Macheso in reference to gossipers.
Marshall Munhumumwe and the Four Brothers did not mince their words: “Guhwa uri mwana waniko iwe?/Dai waive mvura, vanhu vaidzipwa pakumwa/Dai waive muonde, shiri hadzaikudya iwe/Vanaamai vapisa muriwo pamusana pako kaiwe.”
Gentle reader, human beings are social animals with an inclination to know what happens among one another, but some people go overboard.
They make it a point to tell everyone who cares to listen how someone grew up, who they married, who they impregnated at school and what made them end up in jail.
These people never tire of gleaning information from whatever source including maids, distant relatives and neighbours for onward transmission to others.
This information is at times used for blackmail.
“Ukasanditengera doro nhasi ndinongotsemurira piporo rese zvegero rawakabvisisa nhumbu kuMazowe,” you are quickly told.
“Kamwana kako kekusango kaya karikunzi karura nekuba, wakazvinzwa here?” if you refuse to buy them whatever they want, you are asked among strangers.
The moment you hear that someone has met a gossiper, you automatically know that they have been told a lot of nonsense about you.
Some people have no money to sustain themselves and lead miserable lives, but they will never miss a trip to the shebeen to gossip about someone who will be doing far much better than them.
Gossipers respect no one’s marriage. They make it a point to tell your wife what they think you did with whoever is low class simply to sow disunity in your home.
It can be worse if the gossiper is a relative.
These people may refuse to meet you knowing fully well that word about the ill they talk about you may have reached your ears.
Gossiping is akin to a mental illness which makes go to war with almost everyone except themselves. People in this business have no manners and know no boundaries.
Everything is fair game even in the presence of young children and elders just to spite the victim.
Gossipers can affect one’s relationship with God the moment they enter a church environment.
Non-existent issues are given life and transmitted to people in a way that makes victims get shunned by those they worship with.
“She got a higher post in the church elections because she beds the bishop,” you hear women saying of their peer on their way from church.
If you are a deacon and start building your house and upgrading the furniture, nine times out of 10 you will start being accused of siphoning offerings into your pocket.
Workplaces are also full of gossipers who think slashing other people’s heads will get them to the top.
They ply their trade during work hours, resulting in the employer failing to get as much benefits as possible from his employment contract with such characters. People who are inclined to gossip have often sent security departments on high alert over unsubstantiated tales which are costly to the employer.
Gossipers have over the years not always had it rosy. Some of them have been assaulted by their victims.
Men married to gossipers have had to shift from one house to the other at irregular intervals because landlords do not entertain gossipers.
Let’s stop gossip and the world will be a far better place to live in.
Inotambika mughetto.
Online Reporter