The Sunday Mail
DESPITE being dressed to kill in the latest addition to my modest wardrobe, thanks to a caring sister overseas, I was chased like a mad dog from a city filling station.
They also threatened to blacklist me.
I had thought my basket shoe and designer suit would earn me some modicum of respect, but that was not to be.
I was rudely shoved off the forecourt.
“Iwe mudhara wedumbu iwe wakunetsa manje. In fact, ibva pano or else we will ban you!” I was told, as a jerry-can I was holding was kicked away.
I felt my patience being tested in the most difficult way, but I kept my cool in case the bloke would have a change of heart.
Instead of coming to my rescue, other guys who were at the filling station burst into fits of laughter as they feared ruining their chances of being served.
The fuel attendant must surely have enjoyed ephemeral victory pushing this burly fellow and hurling insults at someone as immaculately dressed as I was.
Gentle reader, the fuel challenges we are facing are not without drama.
Motorists are at the mercy of fuel attendants, who, before this crisis began, were disdainfully looked down upon.
Nowadays the moment you set foot at a filling station, your rights are temporarily suspended.
They tell you what to do, why, when and how.
I never thought I would one day wish my son was a fuel attendant.
These guys are really cashing in on the current crisis.
Called “mutusva”, “muto”, “japficha”, “surunyu”, “makobvu nematete”, “peturu” or “dhizanga” in street lexicon, fuel is now the stock-in-trade for people who are having the time of their lives.
Having a top post, driving a top-of-the-range vehicle, having loads of cash, donning swanky attire and living in a baronial is now irrelevant.
Your level of education does not matter anymore.
Those who have access to fuel are now the real deal.
Fuel attendants and service station owners are the only people who are frying sausages and drinking copious amounts of beer these days, especially at a time when Covid-19 has eroded incomes for many.
As I write this gentle reader, there are several people mourning the loss of the love of their lives to people who work at service stations because ndivo vane yese.
As long as you are putting on anything emblazoned with the logo of a service station, you are sure to get the number of any woman you want these days, provided she is interested in fuel.
You just have to visit litter-bins at Total, Glow, Puma, Zuva, Petro Trade and Engen service stations countrywide to see that these guys are living large.
You are likely to be confronted by heaps of packages from fast-food outlets and half-eaten chicken pieces and chips that would have been dumped.
Service station owners might not pay handsomely and regularly, but fuel attendants will never miss a day at work because of the rich pickings.
“We cannot afford to stay away from work. That is where the money is. Mbudzi inofura payakasugirirwa mudhara. Kune mari kuya shasha,” I heard a pint-sized petrol attendant saying while helping himself to a quart of beer almost his height.
In communities where we live, fuel attendants have gained notoriety for using their newly found fortune to snatch people’s wives and girls in the hood, particularly at a time when most people are finding it difficult to make ends meet.
Landlords are not letting this opportune pass them by.
They are now chasing away their tenants to make way for vakomana vepeturu.
But how do these guys make their money?
Easy.
All they do is make you pay for everything.
If you are not in the queue, there is a charge to jump the queue. There is a charge for using EcoCash and a charge to get more than the average allocation.
It is not unusual to find someone filling a drum when everyone is being limited to 20 litres.
Rumour has it that the fuel attendants make sure their brothers and colleagues buy fuel in bulk and get preference whenever there is a delivery.
The fuel is subsequently taken to the black market, where it is sold in United States dollars.
Petrol costs $28,96 per litre and $24 for the same unit of diesel, but on the black market, fuel is sold for an arm and a leg.
But as they continue to deprive fuel to those who might need it the most, and killing the economy in the process, there are fears the actions pose a danger to life because they do not have proper storage and dispensing facilities to store the fuel that would have been diverted from the formal market.
While there is scope for the Zimbabwe Anti-Corruption Commission (ZACC) to step in and ensure people are not short-changed, for now, these fuel attendants are in vogue.
Inotambika mughetto.
