Honestly, I’m not sure when it happened. Maybe it was when we started believing WhatsApp forwards more than doctors. Or when “political debate” became a competition to see who can insult the other side more creatively. Or maybe when we decided that the most important thing in life is being seen, preferably in a selfie, preferably with a caption about “blessings” next to a plate of food you can barely afford.

We’ve turned outrage into a national pastime. We shout about corruption on Facebook and X, then turn around and pay the bribe because “that’s just how things work.” We complain about potholes but still post videos swerving around them for likes. We say we want leaders with integrity, then vote for the cousin of the guy who once gave us a freecT-shirt and a Coke or Nyathi.

Globally, it’s not much better. The whole world has become one big gossip market. A war breaks out? It’s a trending hashtag until the next celebrity scandal knocks it off the charts. People lose their homes, their livelihoods, meanwhile we’re too busy debating whether a Hollywood couple is “still together” to notice.

Kindness is now something we do for the camera. Helping someone quietly, without a witness? Forget it. If it’s not on TikTok, did it even happen? Even funerals have become photo ops. Smile, stand near the casket, post with a sad emoji, done. If you can add a Bible verse, some bonus points for you.

Whatever happened to “community?” We love that word. We say it with pride, like it’s still alive. But try asking for help when there’s no chance of being featured in someone’s Instagram story, you’ll hear nothing back, you may as well turn around. We’re united when we’re marching for a hashtag, but scattered when someone actually needs rent money or school fees.

The truth is, we’ve learned to live with hypocrisy the way we live with load shedding. It’s annoying, it messes up our day, but we shrug, make a plan, and carry on. We used to have principles. Now we have coping mechanisms.

So, when did we sink this low?

Like I said, I have no idea. If I were to date it, I think we finally hit rock bottom last week. Not because of another scandal in government, those are now like kombis at Copacabana: always arriving, always full of noise. No, we truly scraped the barrel when half the country spent 48 hours debating whether Sulumani Chimbetu had asked out Grace Mugabe. Yes, that was the breaking news. Never mind that it was fake. Never mind that there’s a malaria and cholera outbreak ravaging the country and half the clinics have no medicine. What mattered was whether Sulu had the audacity to shoot his shot at the former First Lady.

And the saddest part? People ate it up like it was free sadza at a rally. In fact, for some, it was the national conversation. Forget inflation. Forget teachers being paid less and less every pay cycle. Forget that every week there’s a “missing” $200 million from some ministry. No, the headline that gripped the nation was basically: “Musician Flirts With Former First Lady”

We’ve become experts at selective outrage. A cabinet minister “loses” $50 million? We shake our heads, post “Aaah, Zimbabwe” with a laughing emoji, and move on. But a celebrity says something cheeky, and suddenly we’re political analysts, moral guardians, and gossip columnists all rolled into one.I suspect it wasn’t one big moment. It was a slow drip, small compromises, small silences, small acts of looking the other way. Over time, they hollowed us out. And now, here we are: live-streaming from the bottom, asking for likes, follows, and maybe a miracle.