EMASWATI HEAVILY TAXED

 Sir,

Razor-sharp ribs protrude like a razor wire from a thin reed, emaciated body. Fat-starved flesh stuck on skeletal bones like superglue, paining even the hardest of hearts.

The loud features give a clear calculation of the extent of hunger days. Laying on the dirt, disoriented, wobbly hands move expertly, scrapping for food, rummaging in a gleaming, rich but overturned dustbin. Mongrels watch by the sideline, fascinated and marvel at such a spectacle. But deep down, jealousy plays harmoniously, soothing their malnourished innards.
Flies fly around happily, gloating at the frail hand swatting at them. Maggots swell with anger at the malnourished object that is bound to snatch away their sumptuous buffet.

Greedy

Hate imprisons their greedy, selfish bowels. The Tinkhundla government is at play. Hunger is tearing at his stomach, impatient hands toss them away. Helter-skelter they run away like cowards, grumbling like the long suffering emaSwati.

Princess Sikhanyo’s voice and reason sound like a calm breath of fresh air to the heavily taxed emaSwati, who are left to scavenge and fight for food with mongrels. The way I see it, in our beautiful Eswatini prisoners live a very comfortable, cozy and a better life compared to most tax-paying emaSwati. Three meals a day, a hot bath daily, a bed or lousy sponge with six loose blankets to keep warm, a uniform and toiletries, which, to many unemployed, poverty stricken, lowly paid, orphaned and vulnerable, and old generation of emaSwati is a luxury they yearn and can die for. No wonder many end up committing even the silliest of crimes so they can be behind bars and be well fed.

Poverty

Analytically, hunger and poverty have destroyed their Ubuntu to the core. In pursuit of a better life, the young folks become Betty comes to town, chasing after the good life at night, alas, destroying their lives even further, contracting HIV/AIDS in the process. In empty stomachs, they feed their immune with the poisonous, cancerous ARVs. Government watches insensitively, unconcerned of a list disbursing their poison with food parcels.

A small nation with a 70 per cent poverty stricken population is such a shame when it is categorized as a middle-class country and a pulpit of Africa. Where is the Christianity they profess to uphold yet the minority bogubhela kwesabo? It is funny that their dogs eat better than the heavily taxed majority. Many small businesses have crumpled in the face of VAT.

Suffering

Through monopolies, high electricity charges, they have sent us even deeper than hell. In pain and suffering, we have squirmed while those who dare stand up and fight for what rightly belongs to them end up like cheap women, lusting after and succumbing to a lousy chicken dust. Tattered clothes adorned by HIV ravaged bodies, while government swings comfortably in its snug, swivel comfy chair unconcerned.

A voice of reason bellows, giving hope to many emaSwati that social media was abuzz and wished Princess Sikhanyiso was the Prime Minister. They surmise that the Prime Minister, Ambrose M Dlamini, has shackled them insensitively. Tick tock, hunger, strife and death are a blanket that is a lullaby to many, long suffering emaSwati.

Slow

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