My softness whispers Man My tears bleed Man The lightness of my voice speaks Man The air in my step moves Man The thickness of my mane roars Man All of this man Frightening Beautiful.
Harare- the city that never sleeps. I often wonder who renamed Salisbury Harare after Independence. Whoever it was understood a truth that I only later came to know. People in Harare do not seem to sleep, at first this was something that baffled me. Why did these people not sleep? Did they not have wives, … More In My City We Never Sleep.
Nguva zhinji ndinokanganwa Kutenda Kukumbira Kubvunza Kuda Nguva zhinji ndinokurumidza Kushora Kutora Kufungidzira Kuvenga Often times I forget to give thanks to ask to understand to love Often times I am quick to disparage to take to assume to hate
Four years ago I fell in love. This was the kind of love where it makes you a better person. The kind of love where you begin to realize your own worth, capabilities and shortcomings. After years of not loving myself, of walking with my head hung low I finally found love. A love that … More Unfaithful.
Change is never easy for anyone, but for me, change is my worst nightmare. Change is my Boogieman meets Freddy Krueger. Moving for me I have come to realize is not just packing my belongings and flying or driving to a new place. Moving for me is a complete internal upheaval. Everything moves. I have … More Unpacking Six Months.
You should walk down First Street in Harare just before summer starts. You should smell the scent of the purple jacaranda flowers, it is a mixture of petrol and sugar, a scent that excites my senses. You should meet a Zimbabwean vendor at Avondale flea market, trying to sell you a wooden knobkerrie of NyamiNyami … More My Shitty Country.
When I was twelve years old I was circumcised. I was circumcised because I wanted to be. My father, my mother, my priest and my community did not influence my decision or force my hand. I chose to because I knew that getting circumcised would decrease my chances of contracting HIV by 60% and living … More FGM: It’s Not Their Fight, It’s Our Fight.
I remember my mother telling me that when she fell pregnant with my eldest brother, her first born child, she had to go to her parent’s home and give birth there. This was a customary tradition that was followed by all the women then. Now, very few women follow this part of our culture because … More Lobola: To Pay or Not To Pay?
While at my graduation ceremony this year, I listened to our guest of honour, Graca Machel. One of the things she said is that “No culture should oppress a people.” This led me to think that if cultures should not oppress a people, does it then follow that no culture should oppress another? Culture is … More No Culture Should Oppress a People.
Dear Mama, I pity the man who stands in front of you every Sunday and commands you to learn in quietness and full submission because he is afraid of the sharpness of your mind and the discernment of your words. I pity the man who stands in front of you and sees sin that can … More A Letter to My Mother: A Woman of Faith.