The late Wicknell Chivayo was a high flyer with a Kenyan passport, a Swazi diplomatic passport and the ear of at least half a dozen African presidents.
The ease with which he moved between Harare, Sagana, State House Entebbe, Ikulu Dar es Salaam, should trouble us more than his court cases ever did.
I was recently taken aback when a guest fell on her knees. I lunged forward, in shock, to help her up but I was restrained and informed that’s how they greet gentlemen in their culture, which I of course respected. There are two values which are esteemed and people have killed each other over in my tribe: dignity and freedom. This has, of course created problems, we have become the Republic of Hasirastan. It has also led to the development of a system of free government where each man represents and speaks for himself.
While we would be puzzled at someone who finds it necessary to kneel before another, we reserve the sharpest pangas for the person who would require it of others. Now, I do not know Wicknell Chivayo beyond his gargantuan girth and his unbelievable friendship with his seniors and betters across the continent, his great, strange wealth and showy wash-wash lifestyle. I have no business writing about him, I had written an encomium for the Lamu refinery, I think it is a great thing, until I saw a video of a woman throwing herself on her knees before him and the cruel, haughty look that crossed his face and I knew I was not going to hold my peace and let him go in peace. So I asked Jacita, my AI research assistant, to trawl the internet for, er, material.
