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Royal Letter: 'Dear Sir Weakness, Oh Sorry, Wicknell'

Dear Wicknell - firstly, hearty greetings from the village in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve and it has been more than a moon s...

Dear Wicknell - firstly, hearty greetings from the village in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve and it has been more than a moon since you last heard from me. 

I was busy harvesting, tending my quails, tethering my goats and herding my cattle. I know you were equally busy, tending to your image, forever chequered by your previous criminal conviction and the multifarious array of questions about your business dealings.

I read with shock and disbelief, The Herald edition of June 2, where you were really cowed down and your tail was tucked between your legs. 
Wicknell Chivayo 

It was unusual of you to climb down and admit, you were clobbered into submission.

Back in the village, elders say a man who swallows a mango seed, should sure know that he has a big opening. You started it and you must have seen it coming. Village wisdom dictates that when you bring home a maggot-infested log, never be surprised when lizards start visiting you.

Young and rich as you are, you might have finally known that money is not everything, there is indeed more to life than being monied. You might have also known for sure that the pen is mightier than a multi-million dollars in your pocket.

Journalism is premised on values, and indeed no one can buy values. Even a person like you, who is a self-acclaimed million, aspiring to pocket a billion in a few years.

I can bet with Karitundundu, the ageless village autochthon of wisdom and knowledge that in the past moon or so, you have not enjoyed your money. Yes, that money that you claim to have. Neither did you enjoy your sleep. Marauding issues murdered your sleep.

Your problem is you became a mortar mouth, pounding at everyone you could, especially the journalists, leveraging on your belief that because you have money, you can rubbish anyone. You probably need to know that a log thrown into a river does not become a crocodile, not even by a figment of a mad man.

The pen has now weighed you down and I am very glad that, you, have been put into your correct position and that you have now asked for a ceasefire. In my first instalment, I warned you against thinking that you are semi-deity.

You have now graduated into a man and hopefully you have learnt your lesson.

Finally, be a good boy and good luck!

The Villager. - The Herald 

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