Bath Time “Kurwizi”! The city girl who innocently went to the river for a wash

Dark Inner Thighs: This is her story

I remember vividly that weekend when I was 8 years old. My elder sister, younger brother and myself, we found ourselves yet again  at my mother’s rural home.   We had been dropped off by our parents. This had become a custom on random weekends, whenever my mum and dad wanted to be alone.  My maternal rural home was a convinient choice as it was only a 30 minute drive away from where we lived.

Bath time time was “kurwizi”. It was only the elderly who would take their baths in the little bathroom at the homestead and the babies would have dish baths. Everyone else would take a bath at the river and it was a grand affair every morning. Our “kumusha” (rural) cousins would call out to each other, inviting one another, as we went down to the river. 

 It would be a whole mob of us girls ages from 18 down to 3 that would finally get to the river to  wash up.

My oldest cousin, on this paricular day, was paying too much attention to me while I was bathing and she asked, 

“Nei wakasviba muzvidya umo?” (Why are your inner thighs dark?) To which I had no answer. All l knew is that I had been chubby all my life since my birth weight of 4.6kg. 

I had never worn tights or pants or leggings so to me the dark thighs were normal as my legs were continually exposed to the sun. I had a permanent sun tan so to speak. Noone really had ever fussed about it, not my mum or my elder sister. The only time I would pay attention to my thighs is when I walked too much and got “chub rub,” from friction, otherwise called Tsvakusi kumusha. 
The verdict was soon out, since I could not justify the dark patches…the verdict was I wasnt bathing well enough and I needed a good scrub! 

The bath stones came out and my eldest cousins took turns to scrub me whilst the others, including big sis,  held little me down and they scrubbed…and scrubbed…and scrubbed!

I remember the walk back home, I was on fire! That was the last day I went to the river for a bath and would refuse to go kurwizi anymore with them, I would cry to be allowed to bath at the homestead than have that torture again. 

So little me was sentenced to taking turns bathing in the little homestead baths with the elderly, the gogos and sekurus. I missed out on the social outing with the girls but at least I spared myself from further scrubbing.

Funny now I can not wear a dress or skirt without tights underneath, I often wonder if that incident has scarred me for life..

Image in no way related to story (Artist: Mia Bergeron {contemporary figurative pretty young female girl head african american black woman face portrait painting.)

The Divorce Stigma: Rejected and Bereft of her children, she was labelled “mvana.”

Insight into the plight of a divorced Shona woman.

Her family home was no place for her children

Not so long ago, in the vaShona culture, a divorced woman was shunned and stigmatised. She was labelled a husband snatcher on a good day and a prostitute on a bad one.

A divorced single parent did not only have to fight for her reputation but that of her children too. 

 In the vaShona culture, children belong to the father and not to their mother. A divorced daughter returning home was eventually welcomed back, however it was frowned upon. Statements, like, “you are bringing shame to the family” were constantly floating. 

A returning daughter, battered and bruised would be sent back to her matrimonial home that was evidently marred by domestic violence. 

She was encouraged to nurse her bruises in the confines of her matrimonial home.

It was even more difficult for the divorced daughter to return to her family home with her children, no matter how young they were. 

Some mother were forced to leave behind children as young as nine months old. 

These children were referred to as bastards and a burdern if they eventually ended up in the care of maternal family.
Aside from this stigma, it was the addition of extra people to feed. As a result, a mother was forced to leave her children in the care of her enstranged husband’s family.

A daughter in law was welcomed in her husband’s family with the lowest family status almost equivalent to that of a family slave. She was vulnerable to taunts from her husband’s mother and sisters who were quick to find fault with her. 

The inlaws were quick to badmouth her as she was an outsider. 

Once divorced and sent away, her children were accepted but were easily manipulated to see their departed mother as an evil person who had abandoned them.

She was often accused of abandoning her children and insinuations that she was a loose woman were always lurking about. Her children were never spared these innuendos and insinuations.

Her children were vulnerable ad they did not understand why she would leave them, when they needed her. Animosity often grew as they bonded with their paternal grandmums and aunts.

The divorced woman bereft of her children, divorced and rejected, she had to rebuild her life within a society, that called her “mvana”and a reject. 

They made her to feel like a second class citizen whose hope was to become a mistress to a man who would provide for her. 

Other women, fearing for their marriages, they also shunned her. 

If she found love, the new lover would not embrace another man’s children. Such was her heartbreak, divorced with no resources to care for herself and her children.  

This woman would comfort herself and say, “one day my children will come for me, then they will understand that they can not break the bond between mother and child.”

It would never occur to her that they would not come looking for her and she would suffer the greatest rejection of her life; her children rejecting her.

Facebook wise naAuntiey Mimiey.

Handling inbox messages

Literally all, male and female, young and old, almost all receive inappropriate inboxed messages😎🙆🏽. 

Once you set up a facebook account and messenger with it, it is to be expected that you will receive the odd inboxed message once in a while.  

Definitely not breaking news headline.

It is just part and parcel of  social media. However if not appropriately handled, these messages can be annoying, disturbing even to the point of stealing your peace of mind.
My first point of call as a married woman, is that I plaster pictures of me and my husband all over my social media walls. I am in no way saying this is an achievement when I plaster pictures of my husband. I do it to ensure sensible men and women get the message and stay away.

Then there is the bold ones that still creep in, inboxed convos, and call me “iwe”. Once or twice I have had to make a joke about typing errors, as I was certain he definitely meant to call me “imi.” I knew this because I am old enough to be his mum or aunty. They never came to my inbox again but we interact on posts on my page.

A young man once said, “hello sistren” and again the “typo error” trick worked. I responded by saying son, your phone/ipad will get you into trouble, typing for you “sistren”when you intend to type “mum”😂😂

I find the smiling emoji very helpful for as a mum I do not want to crush their little hearts and in so doing their confidence.
Then there is the grandpa “musharukwa” (vasekuru), who prowls inboxes with raging hormones like a teenager and has an oversized ego. Avo tinogadzirisa nekuti nhasi ndamuka ndichiimba chavaMutukudzi “dzikamayi makura” ( I settle such matters with, ” today I woke up singing a song by a renowned artist which says respect your self.)

Then the inboxed messages from women that are inappropriate, those I don’t waste much energy beyond pressing the block button.

It is essential not to compromise inboxed messages, especially if you are in a relationship that you value. Treat inboxed messages as open messages so to guard your relationship jealously. Remember that when you entertain compromising inboxed messages, the one you are entertaining may wake up having plastered those convos on a public forum.

You remain in control of your inboxed messages if you remain clean. 
If you compromise yourself, you transfer your power or control to the person you are interacting with in a compromised manner

Sweet Mother:

An African mother’s  uncontested truth

1.When food is not enough, she says ” I am not hungry.”
2.Meat is not enough she will say nhasi handisi kufarira nyama.
3.To send you to school she will work tirelessly and say “I am not tired”.
4.She takes u anywhere anytime and say “am not afraid.
5.After father’s death or divorce she will not remarry saying “I don’t need love”.
6.When all kids have finished school she continues working when u send her money she will say I have enough don’t bother.
7.When you say mum come and live with us so that u rest she will say “I am no used to high life “.
8.On her dying bed she will say “I am not in pain with a smile ” but minutes letter she is gone.
Happy Mother’s day

Lupus Month: My reflections.

Understanding Pain to minimise pain  

During one of my pregnancies, my hormones affected my bones. I remember being in agony.  I had excruciating pain every minute and second. 

However, the story today is not mine but I understand pain. 

We never know what people are enduring, therefore if we go through life with understanding we do not inflict  pain on others; others who may already be in pain and are making it through each step.

This is the story of people living with lupus. Their story, their voice. 

“ Lupus changes people, it sculpts us into someone who understands more deeply, hurts more often, appreciate more quickly, cries more easily, hopes more desperately, loves more openly, and lives more passionately.“

I knew that after giving birth the pain would go away. That gave me hope. However Lupus is a lifetime battle.

Lupus is recognised as a common illness of modern times. It is a disease where the immune system becomes over active and the body begins to attack itself. 

Lupus can attack every organ in the body, causing fatigue, rashes, kidney failure, bleeding disorders and many other serious problems including death.

At present there is no medical cure for lupus.

Living with Lupus:Her story

The story of resilience and positivity

I first met her on facebook, beautiful young woman, smiling and well dressed. She runs her own business. Then came the month of may and she shared her story. 

She says, “I wake up in the morning and remind myself, I can do this”

This is her story

“I have Systemic lupus erythematosus (SLE) it is an autoimmune disease.

I got sick when I was 5 years old and noone knew what was wrong or what was going on with me.  After so many tests, I was diagnosed in 1999.

In those days it was considered a very rare illness. Anyhow it took the doctors, numerous specialist and millions of tests for the doctors to finally diagnose me. 

Lupus is an auto immune disease what happens is that my immune system mistakenly attacks healthy tissue. So it attacks it self therefore making me sick. 
In me lupus has affected my lungs, kidneys, heart, joints, eyes, my skin. I used to be happy that my brain has not been affected but last year they discovered a tumor in my head so I have to have this monitored incase it’s growing, for now it’s not affecting me.
I get extreme fatigue and migraines. I have periods were my hair just starts falling off, mouth ulcers, I suffer from esophagus dysphagia and gastroesophageal reflux, insomnia. To name a few of my issues.

I am always in pain to go through a day in need to take 23 tablets in the morning, afternoon and evening. Not including pain killers which I need at times every 4 hours. Or I have to go to hospital to get injections.  
I have blood tests every month, except for the past three months where I was having them every day as my white blood cells and platelets were dangerously low I had to stay in isolation as I was susceptible to catching anything. I couldn’t even go to hospital as I didn’t want to stay in a white room. But am getting better and at times I just get on with life. Life waits for noone lupus or no lupus. 
So to summarise Lupus is a chronic autoimmune disease in which the body’s immune system becomes hyperactive and attacks normal, healthy tissue. This results in symptoms such as inflammation, swelling, and damage to joints, skin, kidneys, blood, the heart, and lungs. It’s different in every one as we all have different immune systems this therefore makes it difficult to treat or diagnose. 
There is currently no treatment. They can control it but can’t treat it. 
The only why to maybe make you understand how people with lupus feel every day is think of that time you got flu or your worst hang over. Got it? Yes that is how we feel on a good day.
I thank God everyday for my life, I live on borrowed time. Was give till 21 but by God’s grace I will be 40 soon. My raising awareness on lupus and my telling my story is for all the lupus warriors that are fighting this battle silently and with a smile. 

She is not asking for much, only,

“So this month of May please wear purple to show your support, take a pucture and post it on your status. Also send out a prayer for all those that suffer from this terrible illness.”

#lupus-warriors

Story time: The fusion of two worlds

My interpretation!

Happy 94th Birthday Baba

At resurrection the son presents himself to the father, the father nods his head in approval. The first victory had been won at calvary, and the son had the scars to show for it.

Now the crusade would begin, the battle to win back the souls of His own. Africa was on their manifesto, and a visit would be inevitable.
In Africa, in Ngaone, a mother returns from her shopping trip, oblivious, to the host of majestical guests trailing her, 
After preparing an evening meal for her family, she sits down with her family, around the fire in a round mud hut, with a grass thatched roof as is the custom.

The family sat quietly to listen to the evening’s folkstory.  On this night however, instead of the stories of the baboon, the hare, the tortoise or the rabbit, the mother chooses to narrate the story of the pit of fire, the tale of last punishment for sinners, that she had heard during her day’s errands.
The Father, the Son and the host of angels were after the response of  young Ezekiel. It was not a coincidence that the story had been narrated; Ezekiel was the chosen one, it was however up to him to respond to his calling, to listen to the whisper of the Holy Spirit at work in him.
On this night both Ezekiel and the majestical guests spent a sleepless night, Ezekiel tossing and turning, and the guests just watching him.
The day that followed, Ezekiel went to his mother for clarification, however, she explained to him, that there was no preacher or church in Ngaone…To a busy mother this issue had been settled, but to Ezekiel the pit of fire became his burden.
For weeks he would isolate himself, to a secret place, in the bush, under a tree on a rock; Ezekiel, restless inside, he would kneel down, lie on his back facing heaven, lie on his tummy, and at times pacing up and down, his prayer, “creator, if you are there save my soul”. Young Ezekiel desperately wanted to be saved from the pit of fire.
When the it was time, the Father again nodded his head in aknowledgement to the host of Angels, Ezekiel had passed the test! The Angels rejoicing, they erupted into a song, it is at this moment, that Ezekiel was caught in the spirit and hears the beautiful music.

Just For that brief moment the two worlds almagamated…

The Father motions to leave, the son and the hosts of Angels follow the father, the father apoints an angel to watch over Ezekiel and then finally say to Ezekiel, “fear not and sin not.”

Eloping in the month of Goats; A Tale of Broken Taboos.

Shona Customs and Traditions Overview Part 1

Recently in Harare, a father defecated on a neighbour’s grave by speaking negatively of the deceased. Speaking ill of the dead is a taboo in the vaShona people’s culture.  

The handling of the deceased is intertwined with superstition and the dead ancestors. 

Superstition has it that you invite bad karma by speaking ill of the departed. This bad karma is believed to haunt even one’s great grandchildren.

Hence the vaShona people tend to appear a harmoniuos and peaceful people, because they tend not to challenge the bad. They believe the bad people will be punished in due course.

The philosophy behind speaking good of the dead is hinged on comforting the bereaved and has very little to do with the deceased’s character. However this father violated the sacredness of burial rites and customs and gave a negative testimonial. 

What moves a man to put salt on the wounds of the bereaved?

He justified his behaviour, explaining that, the deceased booted out his eloping daughter who had been impregnated by her son. He also accused her of urinating on his daughter. It appears this father took back his daughter and has been soley caring for his grandchild, with no input from the babby daddy and his family.

Unfortunately the deceased can not speak out for herself. The husband of the deceased argued that the neighbour’s daughter had eloped in the month of November. Again eloping in the moth of November is a taboo in the shona customs. The month of November in Shona is “Mbudzi”, which is the name for a goat or goats.

Somehow the Shona culture forbids marriage in the month of Goats. It is a taboo to take a wife for yourself in the sacred month. However, some have done so and that has posed no problems in their marriages and family lives

This young lady in question at the age of 17 found herself pregnant. Not only did this mean the disruption of her education but also left her vulnerable to abuse.

It is customary to chase your pregnant daughter from home, as is in line with the practise of eloping. A father who stays with his pregnant daughter is accused of incest. 
The act of chasing your pregnant daughter, is not the lack of love but a necessary process to allow the love birds to progress to marriage. 

It is also hoped that, when the other young people see the plight of the pregnant girl, then they would be scared and would think twice before indulging in premature sexual activities.

The parent also hopes the boy’s parents would not take the matter lightly, however, also to provide shelter and food to their impregnated daughter.

However many girls fall prey to cruel in laws who subject them to both physical and emotional abuse. The society tend to place more blame on the girl than they do to their sons. 
An understanding of traditions and customs should eliviate abuse but misunderstandings have led to abuse of the vulnerable

The Lead Drum Majorette

Chapter 1

Shina’s friend Sal had persuaded her to go to the club. She merely wanted to pick her house keys from her sister Eve. 

Eve was a Drum Majorette instructor at the club. Sal introduced Shina to her sister, Eve at the club. Eve asked them to take part in the rehearsals as two of her majorettes had missed training. Shina was reluctant but, did not want to embarrass Sal, after all Sal was like a sister to her. 

Sal was different from all her classmates. Sal never asked about the bruises she often had. Sal would bring two lunch bags. Sal knew Shina rarely ever had any packed lunch. Sal knew if she had been crying but never asked her. She always tried her best to make her laugh. So she decided to do Sal’s sister, Eve a favour.

She was fascinated by it all and found herself immensely enjoying the practise. Eve kept talking about visual balance and kept shuffling them. Eve kept saying Shina was “too skinny.” All the other girls had curves. This did not bother Shina at all, she kept watching Eve and followed all her instructions.
Later that evening she asked her aunt if she could join the club.
She was pleasantly surprised when her aunty gave her the permission to do so. 

She did not care the reason behind her consent. Her aunt told her to fit in all chores before setting off to the club.
She realised that on Wednesdays, she had to wake up before 5am to fit in all her chores, so that she would dash home, prepare the evening meal before setting off to the club

She found herself practising all the time. This made her forget how much she missed her parents. She saw herself in another world. A world of possibilities. She wanted to be the lead drum majorette. She was shocked and surprised at her thoughts. 
Every Wednesday she felt a sense of purpose. She was always the first to arrive at the club. She always helped to bring out the batons. Once she found Eve at the club practising the lead drum majorette’s sequence. She sat and studied every move and memorised the sequence. Somehow the sequence was so natural to her. 
Eve was amused by Shina’s fascination, she beckoned her to come and practise with her. Shina was reluctant but after encouragement she went and stood next to Eve. She was solemn with much concentration. She mirrored every move and every turn Eve made.
Their legs, arms and baton moved in unison. Eve enjoyed the challenge and increased her pace but Shina remained in her stride. 

The Chairlady of the Women’s association watched from her office, she saw the skinny girl alongside Eve.
There was something different about the skinny girl, she left her office and went to the court yard. Eve smiled when she saw Mrs Moon approach.

Mrs Moon smiled and nodded, Eve explained that she could not get the routine quite right. Mrs Moon prompted Eve, to let Shina try out the routine, so that she could visualise the routine.

Shina had made herself invisible, by bending her head biting her mouth, when she saw Mrs Moon. She did not want to get into trouble. She was surprised that this lady had even noticed her. She smiled quietly, she knew to do as she was told without being prompted.

Her aunt had trained her well, her body no longer felt the pain from all the beatings. She now knew how to doge the high heels, the belts and the rods.

Mrs Moon could tell that the skinny girl was sad and shy. She was so bony she reminded herself to give her a warm glass of milk and a a biscuit before she left. This became a routine every Wednesday afternoon after practise, Mrs Moon appointed Shina to bring the batons to the office, there she always prompted her to a glass of milk and a biscuit.
Shina stood still, she imagined Eve was standing next to her. She mirrored the routine that Eve had practised with her.
As she attempted the third sequence, she realised the routine was missing a count. Her aunt had her taught her to mask faults, feelings, even ideas and never to speak out in front of adults, let alone to point out faults. Shina added in a count by adding a move, the move had come so naturally that it suited the routine perfectly. She moved to the 4th and 5th sequence and abruptly ended the routine with a salute……

She felt happy with her achievement that she let her guard down and smiled a genuine smile with no fear…..

Little had she noticed that the other girls had arrived. They were shouting and clapping with excitement. She turned to face them and she once again recoiled, and withdrew herself to her inner protective shell.

Eve ran and gave her a hug but this caused her to flinch in pain. Both Eve and Mrs Moon noticed the flinch but made no comment. They complimented her on the routine.

Inside her heart was pounding, she felt free.

To be continued…!

Sheer Audacity… To Preach to the world infront of his forlon “wife”

She stood next to him yet he held the hand of another woman. 

He is her “husband” or is he not? The story has scandal written all over it.
I recently watched a certain “married man” giving a broadcast at a public place.

I was drawn to his spouse whose body language did not seem to concur with the words that were uttered by this man.
He stood frothing, holding the hand of a certain lady, possibly his daughter, sister or mother.

However his “wife” had her hand on his shoulder, this is because his other hand, he conveniently used for gestures to emphasise his points. 
The woman whose hand he held, listened intently adoringly and literally hero worshipping him. 

Who was this lady whose hand he held? 

His spouse on the other hand seemed forlon, downcast, despondent. I could see the pain, plainly written on her face.

She could not mask the pain, anger and humiliation, that was written all over her face. 

He stood frothing, declaring and decreeing. Yet he stood openly holding the hand of another woman. What a charade, he used his free hand pointing to the world, but at the same time rejecting his own wife.

Her face was pained, she looked lost and dejected. I so wanted desperately to reach out and give her big hug but reality was unfolding in the virtual world.

 I wanted to tell her that, you are worth more than this, you deserve to be loved and respected.

Rewind a bit, some say this man’s spouse is his current wife, who also, not so long ago, once held his hand when his wife stood by him, hurt and confused. I so wanted to judge her but I realised that she was also a victim in all of this.

I recalled when their scandal broke, the world that knew their affairs vilified her. They only failed short of stoning her. She endured it all and stood by him.

Many years later he humiliates her in-front of the whole world. I would not hold my daddy’s hand while my mum is sidelined! I would not hold my brother’s hand while his wife tried so hard to fit in. 

He never at once let go of this lady’s hand. 

He held onto it as if his life depended on it.

He concluded his sermon by addressing his “wife..” but  his hand never let go of this lady… his mum, daughter from another marriage, or sister, whoever she was.
This man has the characteristics of a predator, speaking words from his mouth but his actions very selfish. 

The sad thing is that women fall into the snare of the predators, he preys on them, pounces on them then shreds them to pieces. 

It was clear to me that he belittles the emotions of his spouse to the detriment of her self esteem.
What women need to understand is that, this would not be his first and last victims if they continue to give in to his predatory charm.