Musings from a fuel line

You dont know whether to accept the way things are or curse someone for failing to do their job. But the fact is I am blogging from a fuel line I have been since 10 am this morning. A cool eight hours spent on petty gossip, political musings, naked Police corruption when they allow others to jump the line. Now we have reached a point of accepting the fate our political gods have bestowed on us. You cannot laugh nor get angry.
This is a new Malawi. I am tired of paying double the price to black market dealers. I have spent a fortune for trying not to be on the lines, which are now a norm for everyone with a vehicle.
The pain is visible in everybodys eyes, people try to create funny tales like one of a Mozambican who was undressed by prostitutes in Luchenza last week. Others try to mock the country's political system.
They are all part of time wasting that we are now thinking to be a great national past time.
I count how many officers from Capital Hill are no longer productive as we share jokes, I do my stories, I get my sources , and I get new story ideas on what is happening from them. But they have very little care of their speeches, they are just angry.
Why would our dear President decide to take a leave on the middle of a crisis in a foreign land? They ask each other but no one has answers.
We start waving at people who pass by, they are all sorts of people. There is a Political adviser of the President, then several DPP officials, a few Cabinet Ministers and of course hordes of Members of Parliament.
This is 7.23pm, I am still number 31 on the line down from 63 in the morning.
In a few hours, I have heard insults, jokes, tales and everything one would want to hear in six months.
As I muse over the plebians thoughts, I think we shoud move Newsrooms to filling stations or even the new fanta and cocacola lines, there are so many tales one can get.
Only my wish is someone solved this crisis much faster- some thoughts here are very scary!

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