My Beef With Robert Mugabe

Last week I was feeling outspoken, and controversial, so I decided to take a stand against something. After searching the news for a cause I could get behind, I landed on a story about Robert Mugabe’s refusal to accept he had lost the Zimbabwe national election. Inspired into action, I went immediately to my Facebook page and changed my status to:

“Steve would be more than happy to steal Zimbabwe from Mugabe. Hell, I couldn't screw that place up anymore than he did, can I? I challenge you to a fistfight, Mugabe!”

Little did I realise what I was beginning.


Within a few hours of putting this status up, I found that a group had been created in support of my challenge against Mugabe, titled “I bet I can find 1 person who wants to see Steve fight Robert Mugabe”. Within mere days, this group has attracted fifteen members, all of whom previously knew me and wanted to see me achieve my goal of fighting the Zimbabwean leader on a global stage. I didn’t have any specifics down for where, when, and how the fight would take place, all I knew was that at some point in my future, I wanted to take on that man and see if I could succeed where politics and violence had failed before me.

Mugabe has still not responded to my challenge, despite the tens of supporters I have backing me, and I presume this is because he is too busy being a coward and sticking with politics. Strangely, after weeks of speculation that he had lost the elections handsomely, Mugabe now seems to be winning, a feat that many call out as blatant rigging of the results. Now I don’t know much about politics – my specialisation lies within the realm of bare knuckle boxing – but I agree. It seems like Mugabe is rushing his claim to the leadership of Zimbabwe, and I think I know why. He’s seen my challenge, and he’s worried. This entire thing is clearly a reaction to my offer of a fight, whereby he is trying to cement his position as President before I can get over there and take it from him.

I wasn’t entirely sure if this was true, so I had a talk with Nelson Mandela about what could possibly be motivating Mugabe. He was at a fund-raiser doing his best to save the world (sure, like THAT is ever going to happen) and I sidled over to him. “Hey N-Dogg,” I said, utilising the black lexicon that I’ve developed after countless hours of watching Chris Rock stand-up shows. “What up?”
“I do not know” he told me. “What is up with you?”
I turned to face him. “Listen, I need a straight-up answer from you, y’feel me? I need to know; what’s up wit that Mugabe foo?” (This was a term I had learnt from watching the A-Team, which features a black member on the team).
He looked at me, sighed, and put a hand on my shoulder in reassurance. “Trust me, you do not want a part of that shit. He would straight up murder your ass,” he told me wisely, sighing again before walking off in disconsolation.

Undeterred by this warning from the wisest man on the planet, I posted a message on the wall of the facebook group, calling out Mugabe again. I told him that if he didn’t accept my challenge of a boxing fight, then that would make him a gay – a ruse, I was sure, that would finally stir the old python out of his snake-nest. No such dice. Mugabe has remained as quiet and terrified about the prospect of fighting me as ever, and has advanced his claim on Zimbabwe further since I issued this second challenge.

Obviously I seem to be having a profound affect on the way Mugabe is running his campaign. The more I dare him to fight me, the tighter he holds onto the last desperate part of his Presidency. Now as a lover of the black man, it pains me to see this man getting them down. They’ve had enough of this in the past, and they certainly don’t need any more of it now, just because I want to fight a 70-ish year old in a gladiatorial arena, without the use of weapons. So I’m going to compromise. We don’t need to have the arena, Mugabe. In fact, I’ll let you pick whatever location you want for our fight. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m certain that I’ll be able to whupp you all over any battleground.

So come on, be reasonable. I’m trying to make this easier on you, Rob! Just give me a location, and we’ll get this over with, and I won’t call you a homo anymore.