Thursday, April 21, 2011

Why the "Buy Zimbabwe" campaign is Bullshit

So I'm reading an article in this little paper called Business Connect about this "Buy Zimbabwe" campaign that was recently launched in the capital. I had heard about this campaign and saw several other articles about it in other papers, but I did my best to ignore it, on account of my blood pressure. Then the bastards behind it went on to plan a whole seminar about it, and take time out of their busy schedules to meet and discuss how to get consumers to start buying more local products, and how best to lobby government to raise duties and limit importation of finished goods. A whole businessman by the name of Supa Mandiwanzira actually stood up to say, "...Government must put legislation in place that will force all supermarkets to put 50% of local goods on shelves at any given time." I now feel compelled to comment.

With all the common sense quite evidently seeping through my pores and making people around me smarter just by association, it amazes me that some people still choose to have seminars and such without consulting me first. Because if these learned gentlemen had taken 2 minutes to brief me that they are concerned about Zimbabweans not buying enough local products, I would have given them one devilishly simple but amazingly effective strategy:

Stop making shit.

There is no amount of campaigning that can persuade me to eat a turd. There is no legislation anyone can dream up that can force me to pay for a steaming plate of dog shit. And, unfortunately, dog shit is exactly what the majority of Zimbabwean companies are serving up and expecting us not only to buy, but to pay MORE for than the imported substitute on the basis of being patriotic. Let's take an in-depth look at some of the vaunted local products that sell-out unpatriotic Zimbos like me are shunning:

Charhon's Loose Biscuits: Affectionately known as "ma-doggie", these treats are a delight - if you have polycrystalline diamond cutters for teeth. Otherwise your teeth will disintegrate from just looking at a packet of these biscuits for too long. These are cookies for real men. I can't imagine why anyone would opt for imported Bakers Strawberry Whirls instead - unless they're gay. I think our President has gone to great lengths, on numerous occasions, to enunciate our national position on that particular group of people. If locals, particularly Zimbabwean men, continue to insist on eating soft yummy cookies that don't need a jackhammer to break, a law to ban them might well become necessary, if for no other reason than to stop us becoming pansies. These biscuits have remained the same for decades, while people's tastes have changed. Still, the dipshits at Charhon's insist on shoving them down our throats. Even when, at one time, Zimbabweans became so desperate for an alternative that they bought truckloads of dollar-for-two lemon creams from across the border, Charhon's did not budge from their strategy. Never mind that these dollar-for-two lemon creams weighed about 0.02 micrograms each and evaporated at the sight of your tongue. We just couldn't take ma-doggie anymore!

Willard's Corn Flakes: Willard's Corn Flakes have a unique ability that is as startling as it is odd - they turn soggy the second you say the word "milk" in their presence. By the time you pour the milk in, they're already porridge. How great is that?! Fuck Kellogg's - who wants corn flakes that stay crunchy and delicious for so long anyway? Unless you're a retard and need more than 2 minutes to finish a bowl of cereal. Lightbulb! Let's legislate to send all the Kellogg's Corn Flakes to hospitals for the mentally challenged! Even though they're 10c cheaper than the local version, they must be removed from the shelves before they kill the local corn flake industry, or the retards starve, whichever might come soonest. Seriously, Willard, wherever you are, do us all a favor and suffocate yourself with a fucking cereal bag.

Gloria Self-Raising Flour: The quality of this flour is as inconsistent as a woman on...well as a woman in general. It started out that you never knew how your mafet-kook (yes I know that's not the spelling, leave me alone) would come out with this flour. Now if you bake with it, you are almost guaranteed a disaster. Unless you tie the bag with a long string and hoist it up to your roof, it simply DOES NOT RISE. Sort of defeats the purpose of calling it "self-raising" - it's about as self-raising as my dick if I sat watching Thabo Mbeki skinny-dipping on a frigid winter night in Cape Town. But I suppose that's not important. The important thing is to buy Zimbabwean, and forget about imported Snowflake Self-Raising Flour which actually rises.

Fresh Produce: Mr. Mandiwanzira is quoted as saying: "It's sad that we are importing carrots and tomatoes from South Africa when local farmers are throwing away their tomatoes that would have rotten (sic) because they don't have markets." Really? Who's throwing away their tomatoes because of lack of a local market? Tomatoes?? Perhaps he was exaggerating for effect, but tomatoes are one product I know the masses in Zimbabwe are willing to buy locally. Potatoes, on the other hand, are a different story. Whereas South African potatoes come washed and look presentable, local potatoes come with clumps of red soil attached. These clumps of soil are genetically engineered to remain attached to the potato no matter what you do, until you get home and soak them for at least 30 minutes. The problem is when the store assistant weighs my potatoes at the supermarket, I want 10kg of potato only, not 8.5kg of potato and 1.5kg of soil. We all know the soil is ours - ivhu nderedu - and we will never pay for it.

Various local sweets: Crystal mints have had the same boring taste and the same packaging since I was in Grade 2. Crystal toffees still have that amazing ability to adhere to your back tooth the second you pop one into your mouth, and then slowly dissolve and leave a rather disconcerting, oily, thin film on the roof of your mouth. Despite the advancements in chewing gum technology, Dandy is still churning out the same flavors in the same packaging they had 25 years ago. Dandy bubblegum loses its taste as soon as you unwrap it, still. After approximately 1.5 seconds of chewing, the taste has disappeared like an MDC bandana at a ZANU-PF rally. Freddo chocolate is still the same Freddo chocolate I used to buy at the tuckshop in primary school, with the same stupid white and green packaging with the same stupid jokes, like "Why did Freddo cross the road?" "Because he hopped the Buy Zim campaign would get people to eat him again even though he tastes like ass." Or something like that. Should I really forego my velvety Cadbury's Chocolate Eclairs for hard-as-rock Crystal Toffees? Or forget about smooth Endearmints in favor of Crystal mints, even though they shred the roof of my mouth and leave a faintly bloody taste on my tongue? No sir, I will not.

Furniture: Entering a local furniture shop such as Pelhams, TV Sales & Hire, Banet and Harris etc. is like walking into The Land That Time Forgot. They still have the same design of lounge suites that our mothers bought before we were born. Yet here we are, the new consumer, this generation of MTV Cribs and Forbes Top 20 Celebrity Mansions on E! We don't want leather couches with polished wood in the armrests. We don't want couches that have buttons. We don't want bedroom suites that have so much wood they'd be deemed a fire hazard in any other country. We don't want velvet or floral material on our lounge suites. No, damn it. We want corner couches in white leather. We want shaggy rugs that feel like heaven under our feet. We want bedroom suites that are sexy, not just functional. As long as we don't have these made in Zimbabwe, don't expect us to "buy Zimbabwe."

Clothing: Edgars and Truworths have been flighting lots of press ads recently, showcasing their new range of work and casual wear. Trouble is, none of their designers have ever heard of Cosmo, or GQ, or any fashion magazine that exists in the world, apparently. Their clothes are appealing only to a very Christian receptionist from Budiriro going to an interview at a briefcase company which recently expanded out of the briefcase and into a cubicle on the 2nd floor of a non-descript building just opposite pa Charge Office. You can get more fashionable gear at Mr. Price in Musina for a fraction of the cost, true story. Would it really kill these idiots to glance at a style magazine now and again?

Cordials: Otherwise generically known as Mazoe, because that's what us Zimbos do. All toothpaste is Colgate, and any soft drink is Kokora. Only at a Zim restaurant can you say to the waitress "I'll have a Coke please", and she smiles sweetly and says: "Ok, what kind?" And then you...without a moment's pause, you say, "Cherry Plum". That will never happen in Indianapolis or Birmingham. Anyway, I digress. Whilst Mazoe itself is an excellent brand, all other locally produced brands in that category should be ashamed of themselves for even claiming to be brands. I bought a 2L bottle of Squish Squash Cream Soda the other day. I wouldn't have, if I'd known the mixing ratio is 1 part water to 5 parts juice. My first glass was unbelievably watery after mixing it using the universally accepted ratio of 1 part juice to 4 parts water. Mr. Mandiwanzira sir, do you know how frustrating it is to add juice, sip to taste, add juice, sip, add juice, sip, and on and on for 20 minutes before getting the taste of your juice right?! For my second glass I simply resorted to using a shot glass to measure one shot of water, then filled up the glass with juice. You don't dare put ice in a glass of Squish Squash - may as well drink a glass of colored water. Tacoola, Quench, Citrade - all the shit's the same. Is it any wonder I now choose to stick to Ceres or Liqui-Fruit when I can't get Mazoe?

Eversharp pens: Before I rant about Eversharp pens, I must give credit where it's due. Despite what I'm about to say about them, the honest truth is that ever since I was allowed to use a pen in school, I have been guaranteed that no matter where an Eversharp pen has been, when I needed to write, the thing writes! It generally doesn't need persuading, it doesn't think twice, it doesn't stutter, it just writes. Brilliant! But my God, its been 50 years and we still have the same gold-tipped refill, the same grey hexagonal barrel, capped by the same ridiculous blue, red or black plastic cap. Not a single brain cell has been expended in trying to innovate this pen, for over 50 years! Meanwhile, Bic now has gel pens, rollerball pens, glitter gel pens, 0.5mm pens, 0.7mm pens, purple, pink and gold pens...the list is endless! So while my staff are happy to use an Eversharp pen to write notes in a staff meeting, my 14 year old niece would slit her wrists if she were forced to use one at school. Surely it wouldn't kill the geniuses at Eversharp Pvt. Ltd. to sit down and even copy the innovations of 10 years ago. That would be a giant leap forward compared to where they are now.

I could go on and on, but this is really not a profitable endeavor for me, since none of you bastards donate money to my blog. I think my point is clear. If "Buy Zimbabwe" means the same as "Buy Shit", then the Zim manufacturers can go to Hell. We are not prepared to sacrifice our hard-earned cash and our taste-buds on this garbage.

Before this campaign gains steam, I think we as consumers should start our own. We can aim it at the manufacturers, and call it the "Stop Making Shit Campaign". We can have our own seminar and media coverage, and I can be the spokesman. We can even have a logo or badge of some sort, which can be put on products we certify worthwhile. Instead of saying "Proudly Zimbabwean", it can say "Guaranteed: Not Shit" or something to that effect. If anyone can design such a logo please let me know. I won't pay you, but you'll feel good for bringing down a fellow Zimbabwean's blood pressure.

zakeozim@gmail.com

www.zim-madness.blogspot.com

Thursday, April 7, 2011

It's not about the business, it's about you, idiot

I'm so tired of meeting failures. Zim must be where colossal failures are created and then deployed to other parts of the world to breed. Yes, I know, running a business in this country is terribly difficult. The banks are not lending, the potential market generally has very little income (none of which is disposable), and if you sell on credit you will soon learn that everydamnbody in this country is a remorseless defaulter. But is that the main reason why the 5 businesses you tried to run last year all failed? I submit that it is not. Further, I would like to submit two key points which, in my estimation, explain your financial mediocrity:

1. You are an idiot.

2. You are an idiot.

Why do we Zimbabweans think that just because someone else is minting money in a certain type of business, we should get into that business too? Does it follow that we too will mint money in that business? Here's an idea: stop being a jack-ass that mimics everybody else's ideas and do your own shit.

As an example, at the height of the fuel crisis, how many people did you know who suddenly jumped on the bandwagon and were importing fuel and opening gas stations? Suddenly, no longer did you go to a BP or a Shell for gas - you went to Praise Petroleum, or Ekhaya Petroleum, or Country Petroleum, or Essox Petroleum. Essox Petroleum? Who the hell are you? As it turns out, nobody. You're a guy who was a bank teller the previous year and suddenly decided to quit your job and jump into fuel because you heard Kuda of Sakunda Petroleum had bought a VW Toureg. And that just ate you up, because Kuda was your junior at St. Ignatius. Kuda, of all people! He played Thirds rugby for heaven's sake, and was in the C stream, and when they discussed the list of potential prefects for his year he was somewhere between "Never" and "Who?" Meanwhile, you were almost made deputy headboy (if it wasn't for that bitch bastard Mr. Goredema, fuck him), played First Team volleyball, and on top of all that, captained the chess team superbly in your Upper 6 year.

So how dare Kuda your junior in high school drive around in a VW Toureg and employ 150 people, while you slave away in a cubicle at Trust Bank with your box Nissan parked outside, braaing cockroaches trapped in the crevices of its cracked dashboard? Surely, if Kuda could do it, so could you. So with two other equally incensed and clueless friends, you started Essox Petroleum. For what reason? "Bhikozi fuel ine mari mdhara." Really? "Defaz! Iwe, anaKuda vakuto dhraivha ma Toureg shamwari, ka Kuda kaye kaye sha. Ne fuel dhedhi!"

Hmm, making money from distributing fuel. Not a bad idea. Except for one thing: none of you morons knew anything about the complexities of running a sustainable service station. How did you think your experience in correctly aligning and clipping together bank notes would serve you in the fuel industry? How did you imagine your supreme deftness in operating a money-counting machine would help you make millions selling bulk fuel to the mining sector? Did you burn with a passion for excelling in the energy sector? Did you wake up every morning and check Bloomberg for developments in the oil industry, and calculate what impact those international developments would have on your business, and act appropriately? The answer is no, because you have the intelligence of a comatose slug, and therefore no clue what it takes to build an enduring business.

Despite my demonstrable and extensive knowledge of everything on the face of this earth, some people still opt to not heed my advice. Two years down the line, Essox Petroleum was a distant memory in the minds of the 30 or so customers who regularly patronized it, stopping their run-down tin-can cars to put $5 of petrol in the tank. $5? What are you driving? A lawnmower? (As an aside, and I have said this before, if you can only afford to put $5 of petrol in your car at a time you should seriously consider the merits of suicide. Not all suicide is a bad idea, some of it benefits the community at largetremendously, because lets face it, the earth can only accommodate a certain number of people, and we all we would be better served by keeping space for only productive people. By putting only $5 of petrol in your car at any time, you, my brother, make manifest that you do not fall anywhere near the group of people who can be defined as "productive".)

But I digress, My point is, a year later Mr. Essox was buying diamonds from Mutare and selling them to Libyans at the Holiday Inn. A year after that he was bringing in printer cartridges from Malaysia. This year he is running a car dealership, while working hard to get contacts who can help him buy mining claims, while also investigating the possibility of buying cross-border trucks, and, possibly, importing car parts from China.

For Pete's sake, how many people own car dealerships in Harare? There are more car dealerships in this city than supermarkets. How many women are going to China to buy "original" designer label clothes for re-sale? Who do ya'll plan to sell to, when all of you are going there? How many people own kombis, and now taxis? There are more commuter omnibuses and taxis in Harare than there are commuters in the entire country. And in the midst of all this, I challenge you to find an establishment that sells a full, comprehensive range of bakery ingredients for you to bake your son a lovely, unique birthday cake. Or one that rents out a large selection of good quality men's suits and tuxedos for weddings. Or a cocktail lounge that is actually a lounge, not a bhawa, and actually sells actually really cocktails. Why are we all trying to do the SAME DAMN THING?

Do something different. If you can't do something different, heed this advice: it's not all about the business. It's about the man. There are indeed people who have made millions in fuel. But there are also people who have been equally successful in marketing computer consumables, in selling used and brand new cars, in mining. You can make money doing just about anything. But you need to first have a little bit of passion in the business you're trying to develop, and secondly you need to have the patience and the discipline to stick with the damn thing until it turns the corner. If u flit from one business idea to the next like a leaf blowing in the wind, the ball and chain of failure will remain firmly strapped to your ankle until you die a miserable death. And we shall not cry. We shall drive to your funeral in our VW Touregs and celebrate the end of your sad, pointless, wretched excuse of a life.

The moral of the story is: do one thing, and do it well. Do it consistently. Do it for long enough. And you will find success. And I will find peace, because you will no longer keep taking the elevator to my office to make yet another presentation of a hare-brained business concept that you want me to invest me for 50% equity. Because according to my calculations, no matter what currency you're using, 50% of 0 is 0. I do not want to invest in your stupid ideas, unless you one day have an idea to leave me alone, forever. I will invest at least $50 in that one.

zakeozim@gmail.com