Death is inevitable, so is mourning. No amount of preparation can absolve one the impulse to reflect on a life well lived. Morgan Richard Tsvangirai is a national hero by any standard of measure. That is an indisputable fact.
I have to admit that as a medical doctor I knew very well that his time was nigh considering the prognosis the diagnosis of Colorectal Carcinoma carries. Obviously knowledge can run contrary to emotion. In short, I was simply not prepared. The reaction to the death of an icon defies even the best of Actuarial projections. Is it even calculatable I wonder? When the South Africans lost Nelson Mandela were they prepared?
His greatest achievement is arguably defeating the loathsome dictator Robert Gabriel Mugabe in an election (the year being 2008). He was the first and only person to have ever achieved such a seemingly impossible feat. Such was the tenacity of his resolve. He took an abusive regime head-on, a regime in which the incumbent president, Mnangagwa, was deeply entrenched I must add. He risked life and limb to introduce true democracy to our oppressed nation.
A great demagogue he was. He perfected the art of complaining in public all the while blending it with a certain flavor of hope that only a few men have ever had the privilege of mastering. He is comparable to the great Winston Churchill in that regard. Though he did not possess the semantic dexterity of his nemesis (Mugabe) he offered something unique in his oratory, hope. To me that is his greatest legacy. He will forever be remembered as THE MAN WHO GAVE US HOPE.
Save. Chematama. Tsvangson. The man was truly loved. He was by no means infallible. He had his faults. Philandering was one of them. An argument can be made that this weakness only revealed just how much love he had to give. A short chuckle is allowed at this point. Would I be labouring the point if I said he loved many women because he had too much love to contain within him?
I will forever find solace in the simple fact that I belong to that small subset of mourners who made the effort to read his autobiography (Morgan Tsvangirai: At The Deep End) before he died. It is one of the weaknesses of our culture that people start to dig into the life of the deceased after they cross into the great unknown rather than doing so while they are still with us. Sales of his book are obviously going to rise because of his death. How cruel we can be sometimes.
Oh Morgan! Oh Richard! You were flogged, harassed, jailed and everything in between all for our freedom. You lost your freedom in order for us to gain ours. Oh Death! Why do you take the young (65) and leave the old (94)? I am saddened. I am deeply saddened. I grieve….I mourn….but why Lord?