I am still trying to understand the reason behind the wholesale condemnation of Zimbabwe president Robert Mugabe following his recent statement that Jamaican men are only interested in smoking marijuana, singing all day and leaving women to populate the universities.

While I was content to just reflect on the matter within the confines of my own mind, more and more I am being forced to vacate my reverie and give props to the president.

I hope you won't begrudge a girl her personal opinion, although I am well aware of how Mugabe was massacred when he ventured to share his views.

Yes, not all Jamaican men are as Mugabe described, but haven't you heard that a little leaven leaveneth the whole lump? I think we have far too many leavening agents in our society, like the middle-aged pauper I came across in Trelawny recently who, though well attired, and perfectly capable of working, tried to mooch off me when my co-workers stopped at a square in the parish to conduct an interview.

After proceeding to tell the man I had no money, he insisted that I was lying, since I was travelling in a fancy vehicle; never mind the fact that I wasn't the driver and the four wheeler was branded with the company's name and logo. Then to my utter dismay, his younger sidekick, with a bottle of rum in one hand and a ganja spliff in the other, shouted, 'no mek har chat yuh out and she don't give yuh nothing enuh'.

Perhaps my patience level was at a high or it might have been because I was not authorised to drive the company's vehicle, but I actually sat and listened to the man tell me about his children and their mothers, for there were more than one of them, and they all lived abroad. When two other men passed by and asked the friendly mendicant whether I was going to buy him a drink, I started to pray more fervently for him to leave me alone. I was only too happy when my co-workers returned.

While there are a number of educated men occupying important positions in the society and playing vital roles within their households, one cannot overlook the hustlers on the streets with their two toned faces, belching out the lyrics from their 'idols' as they knead their hand middles. The only achievement they can brag about is the number of children they sired, who unfortunately, in some cases, continue their fathers' cycle of mooching off society for handouts.