This week saw one of the most superbly orchestrated coups the world has ever seen. Robert Mugabe is on his way out. It is over. Kaput. Finis...
This week saw one of the most superbly orchestrated coups the world has ever seen. Robert Mugabe is on his way out. It is over. Kaput. Finished. The power, the money, the influence, the reverence, and the fear he inspired in people is gone too.
I feel especially sorry for his wife, Grace, a ruthlessly ambitious former mistress turned wife. Her plans to become president have been botched, the charade is over. The music has suddenly stopped and the party is over.
I have been following Grace Mugabe for a while now. I particularly like her story, I must admit. I mean, I like people with a story. Don’t get it wrong, I don’t like Grace, I like her story. I like the story of a woman who has come a distance.
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| City Girl - Let Grace Mugabe’s Story Serve As A Cautionary Tale To All |
UNDERESTIMATED HER:
Knowing that Mugabe’s first wife was on her deathbed (she had cancer), Grace positioned herself to become the country’s next First Lady. Her plans went exactly as she had hoped, but her detractors had grossly underestimated her, thinking that all she wanted was to be a mere First Lady.
The closer Grace got to power, the more she liked it, it stirred an insatiable appetite in her, and maybe Grace thought she would make a better president than the nonagenarian she was married to.
You wouldn’t blame Grace for wanting more. So, Grace had her sights set very high, her bar was up there, in the ranks of Hillary Clinton (I dare not compare), she wanted to be among the few women presidents in the continent.
The only blot in her best-laid plans was that greed got the better of her. She thought Zimbabwe was her footstool. She thought that her proximity to power accorded a licence to be a proud and haughty woman, a scheming politician and an arrogant First Lady.
I will not catalogue her shopping sprees here, you can go check that out yourself, but Grace was a wasteful human being and as nasty as they come.
As her people died of hunger and wallowed in poverty, she was painting Paris red, picking handbags and designer high heels with reckless abandon. The poor people of Zimbabwe could sort themselves out for all she cared ... Read More
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