Of Labour Day and Cadres
I will never know whether it is because of my cynical Labour Day piece that I did last year, but lo and behold I won an award this time around. And if George Calin is to be believed, this is something worth celebrating. He once famously said:
“I could never understand ethnic or national pride. Because to me pride should be reserved for something you achieve or attain on your own, not something that happens by accident of birth. Being Irish isn't a skill, it’s a fuckin’ genetic accident. You wouldn't say ‘I’m proud to be 5’11”. I’m proud to have a predisposition for colon cancer.’ So why the fuck would you be proud to be Irish, or proud to be Italian, or American or anything"
A certain bird (there are always birds in these organisations) intimated to me that I was going to be awarded most hardworking employee for 2013 come the famous May day. Knowing the "bird" to be reliable, the news immediately brought a spring to my step. Being someone who tries to avoid pomp and ceremony, this was a totally unexpected change in my disposition. I can count at least three times when I quickly dashed to the "Gents" to go and punch the air, one such trip was embarrassingly prematurely curtailed by a colleague walking in on me. Lets face it, its not every day you get an award.
Once home, I sat down to pen my acceptance speech. My, in retrospect, long winded speech, practically thanked the entire generation of Hamusutes that had ever lived, from the Great Hamundyoli himself to the ones living currently. There was just enough space for my colleagues, boss and The President...
I know you are wondering why I had to bring The President into this. Well I had gathered that the award will be given in the full glare of the the nation's media, at the Freedom Statute with the Republican President in attendance. In anticipation of which, meticulous me decided to pen an acceptance speech the length of a Masters dissertation, replete with anecdotes that I thought were funny. Who wants to take chances with their fifteen seconds of fame, I reasoned. This just might be my big break.
But then, not only did I not attend the Freedom Statute parade, but it turned out the President would display the patience and temper of a pissed off Rhino during the Labour Day celebrations. Choosing not to give an official Labour Day speech but merely remark in a somewhat croaky voice that he was tired of the speeches and everyone already knew what to do. It turns out he has the same hate and impatience for meaningless speeches that some of us have been struggling with for some time now. To a large extent I understand and share this loath for these meaningless and lengthy speeches.
Still that did not prevent his ministers from reading into his three lines some mystical powerful message (according to Honourable Fackson Shamenda, The Labour Minister). I was left thinking the Minister had considerable powers of imagination or was cruelly playing on us a warped version of the Emperor's New Clothes.
Wonder what he is saying?
It turns out fate conspired to rob me of my fifteen seconds of fame as my organisation decreed that we would not be attending the Labour Day celebrations and that our prizes would be hand delivered to our offices. I did manage to go to Kitwe though to attend the award ceremony for Copperbelt based colleagues which as you might guess felt weird on so many fronts.
For starters, it was difficult to justify my presence at the awards gala. The gentleman seated next to me from one of the branches in an attempt to make conversation asked me whether I was part of senior management, who had come to witness the giving of awards to deserving employees. I quickly disabused him of his error.
" So you are here for" he persisted.
"Well..." I was searching for words. "I am also here to get an award, although I wont be receiving it here and my name wont be called up". He looked puzzled at my answer.
"So you are from one of the branches?", the man wouldn't leave me alone.
Anyway, the following Monday, I received my nicely framed award. There was no camera to capture the smile I had been practicing for a month, there were no loving hugs from adoring loved ones, just me and the messenger.
******** ******** ********** ******** ******* ******* ******* ********* *********
The life of a cadre must be one of relentless evasive actions. I watched with abated breath as some vehicle , allegedly driven by a member of the security wings ploughed into a group of cadres who had gone to "attend" court hearing in the case in which opposition United Party for National Development Leader Hakainde Hichilema (HH) is charged with breaking the law a few weeks ago. I don't know the exact details of the case and neither is it my intention to comment on it. However, I find it deeply disturbing the extent to which these youths go just to make a point for a politician who does not even know their name. I have been meaning to understand the typical Zambian cadres' mentality and I must say all attempts to rationally deal with this phenomenon have failed.
How they even get wind of the exact hearing dates for these cases I will never know, not to mention whether they are actually acquainted with the details of the cases for which they lose their blood. Just yesterday, another unruly mob was busy shading blood for a certain GBM, while he, looking extremely calm was immaculately dressed and conferring with his lawyer. Outside the police station and in the commotion, broken heads were sustained, sprained limbs and all manner of injury.
I may never know exactly what goes on in a cadre's brain. I know that there are a number of noble causes for which people have been left injured or lost their lives. But I also do know that Zambian politics is not one such cause. The sooner Zambians understand that, the better.
“I could never understand ethnic or national pride. Because to me pride should be reserved for something you achieve or attain on your own, not something that happens by accident of birth. Being Irish isn't a skill, it’s a fuckin’ genetic accident. You wouldn't say ‘I’m proud to be 5’11”. I’m proud to have a predisposition for colon cancer.’ So why the fuck would you be proud to be Irish, or proud to be Italian, or American or anything"
A certain bird (there are always birds in these organisations) intimated to me that I was going to be awarded most hardworking employee for 2013 come the famous May day. Knowing the "bird" to be reliable, the news immediately brought a spring to my step. Being someone who tries to avoid pomp and ceremony, this was a totally unexpected change in my disposition. I can count at least three times when I quickly dashed to the "Gents" to go and punch the air, one such trip was embarrassingly prematurely curtailed by a colleague walking in on me. Lets face it, its not every day you get an award.
Once home, I sat down to pen my acceptance speech. My, in retrospect, long winded speech, practically thanked the entire generation of Hamusutes that had ever lived, from the Great Hamundyoli himself to the ones living currently. There was just enough space for my colleagues, boss and The President...
I know you are wondering why I had to bring The President into this. Well I had gathered that the award will be given in the full glare of the the nation's media, at the Freedom Statute with the Republican President in attendance. In anticipation of which, meticulous me decided to pen an acceptance speech the length of a Masters dissertation, replete with anecdotes that I thought were funny. Who wants to take chances with their fifteen seconds of fame, I reasoned. This just might be my big break.
But then, not only did I not attend the Freedom Statute parade, but it turned out the President would display the patience and temper of a pissed off Rhino during the Labour Day celebrations. Choosing not to give an official Labour Day speech but merely remark in a somewhat croaky voice that he was tired of the speeches and everyone already knew what to do. It turns out he has the same hate and impatience for meaningless speeches that some of us have been struggling with for some time now. To a large extent I understand and share this loath for these meaningless and lengthy speeches.
Still that did not prevent his ministers from reading into his three lines some mystical powerful message (according to Honourable Fackson Shamenda, The Labour Minister). I was left thinking the Minister had considerable powers of imagination or was cruelly playing on us a warped version of the Emperor's New Clothes.
Wonder what he is saying?
It turns out fate conspired to rob me of my fifteen seconds of fame as my organisation decreed that we would not be attending the Labour Day celebrations and that our prizes would be hand delivered to our offices. I did manage to go to Kitwe though to attend the award ceremony for Copperbelt based colleagues which as you might guess felt weird on so many fronts.
For starters, it was difficult to justify my presence at the awards gala. The gentleman seated next to me from one of the branches in an attempt to make conversation asked me whether I was part of senior management, who had come to witness the giving of awards to deserving employees. I quickly disabused him of his error.
" So you are here for" he persisted.
"Well..." I was searching for words. "I am also here to get an award, although I wont be receiving it here and my name wont be called up". He looked puzzled at my answer.
"So you are from one of the branches?", the man wouldn't leave me alone.
Anyway, the following Monday, I received my nicely framed award. There was no camera to capture the smile I had been practicing for a month, there were no loving hugs from adoring loved ones, just me and the messenger.
******** ******** ********** ******** ******* ******* ******* ********* *********
The life of a cadre must be one of relentless evasive actions. I watched with abated breath as some vehicle , allegedly driven by a member of the security wings ploughed into a group of cadres who had gone to "attend" court hearing in the case in which opposition United Party for National Development Leader Hakainde Hichilema (HH) is charged with breaking the law a few weeks ago. I don't know the exact details of the case and neither is it my intention to comment on it. However, I find it deeply disturbing the extent to which these youths go just to make a point for a politician who does not even know their name. I have been meaning to understand the typical Zambian cadres' mentality and I must say all attempts to rationally deal with this phenomenon have failed.
How they even get wind of the exact hearing dates for these cases I will never know, not to mention whether they are actually acquainted with the details of the cases for which they lose their blood. Just yesterday, another unruly mob was busy shading blood for a certain GBM, while he, looking extremely calm was immaculately dressed and conferring with his lawyer. Outside the police station and in the commotion, broken heads were sustained, sprained limbs and all manner of injury.
I may never know exactly what goes on in a cadre's brain. I know that there are a number of noble causes for which people have been left injured or lost their lives. But I also do know that Zambian politics is not one such cause. The sooner Zambians understand that, the better.
impeccable....u shud write a book
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. Greatly humbled.
ReplyDeleteGreat piece!
ReplyDeleteyour quiet determination, your ideas of justice and fairness, your satire and your sports analysis really make you blog an interesting, enjoyable read.
ReplyDeleteThank you Florence, thank you Patrice. I greatly value your support.
ReplyDelete