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THEY loiter about aimlessly throughout the month but when pay day comes, they are the first in the bank queues.
They then draw a salary equivalent to that of a university professor, yet many of them did not pass their “O” Levels and can hardly read or write.
Meet Zimbabwe’s do-nothing-but-get-paid civil servants: the youth officers.
At Mhandamahwe Growth Point in Chivi, you would easily recognize them over the just ended festive season.
I was probably the only person who did not know them.
However that changed when chart buster Maggie Mukaranga started blaring out of a rickety home theatre system. Two of these youths, who appeared inebriated, jumped onto the stage and started displaying their fancy footwork.
They went down in synchronized paces approximating a well-rehearsed dance routine. One would mistake them for stray band members of a renowned sungura outfit. They must have been doing this for a long time. I stood there mesmerized by the way they danced, until somebody tapped my shoulder.
“Hey my friend, nobody cares to look at these people anymore. They are always dancing. They have nothing else to do,” a colleague who was waiting for me to buy a round of the brown bottles said.
I soon realised there was no malice in what he meant.
“Vasevenzi vaMugabe” (Mugabe’s servants), as they call themselves in this part of the country, are well-known for leading charmed lives.
They do not go to work, yet when it’s the civil servants’ pay day, they are the first in the bank queues.
And because they do not work, they have become notorious for drinking beer and when they exhaust their US$150 a month pay, they simply loiter, waiting for the next pay day.
Many of these more than 10 000 youths were recruited last year when Zanu PF needed foot soldiers to stop the then opposition MDC from penetrating the rural areas.
But those operations ceased a long time ago after the signing of the Global Political Agreement (GPA) leaving the youths, whose names were illegally added to civil service payroll, redundant.
However many of them are hardly the kind of people who would qualify to be called civil servants by any stretch of imagination.
Their demeanor and the educational qualifications fall far short of what is required for one to get into the civil service.
They were also not subjected to the mandatory medical examination, which was only conducted late last year when questions started being asked about the illegal recruitment of the 10 000 youths.
What is worrying progressive government officials is the fact that these youths openly boast that they get money for doing nothing.
“They are quick to tell you that they were hired by the President, so they are not answerable to anyone,” said a senior government official in Masvingo based at Benjamin Burombo building.
And if you talk to these youths, you realise theirs is a charmed life.
“What exactly do you do?” I asked one of these youths on Christmas Day.
“Tino mobilizer musangano (we mobilize Zanu PF supporters).”
“And you get paid for that by the government?”
“Eh! nekuti hurumende ndeye Zanu PF” (Yes, because it’s a Zanu PF government),” he quipped.
I did not ask any further questions because I had been told many stories about how these “civil servants” fared when they were hauled before the civil service auditors late last year.
One of the youth officers from Zaka was asked if he knew anything about the Public Service Commission (PSC).
No, he didn’t.
“So who is your employer?” he was asked.
“Musangano” (the party).
“When and where were you recruited?
“Pamuchakata tave kuda kuinda kumaPresidential. (I was recruited under the tree just before we headed for the Presidential run-off election).”
Another youth, a 27-year-old-man, was asked about his immediate supervisor. He said it was the Zanu PF district chairperson.
And his certificates: Akarasika kuhondo (They were lost during the liberation war) — a war that ended 30 years ago, three years before he was born!
And then his job description: to ensure that the opposition and its stooges do not penetrate his area.
As I surveyed the two youths dancing to Maggie Mukaranga, I realised the importance and timeliness of the civil service audit.
These dancing characters certainly don’t deserve to be anywhere near a civil service office. Maybe they could do well as hired dancers on musician Josphat Somanje’s payroll.
BY WALTER MARWIZI
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