Where do I stand?

Picture courtesy of Crisis in Zimbabwe Coalition

My heart is bleeding. But that’s an understatement. The truth is my heart has been savagely ripped out of my chest.  

I’m an emotional wreck right now, consumed by pain, anger and dejection.

It’s 16 days before a decisive national election in my motherland, Zimbabwe and I’m confronted by the brutal reality that my dream of determining the future of my country and exercising my right to self determination is just that - a mere dream.

I was reading a contribution to the Feya Feya blog from a very good friend on her hopes for a ‘feya feya’ election in Zimbabwe. The article, together with constant questions from my other friends on whether I’m travelling back home to vote, triggered the emotional roller coaster.

Not that I’m anxious over the possibility of Zimbabwe witnessing an un-feya feya election but because I’m unable to participate in a very crucial national process.

Crucial in that elections play a key role in reaffirming the right of the people to self- determination and provide an opportunity for the people to decide who governs them - a decision which will impact on their lived realities.

Together with hundreds of thousands of Zimbabweans in the so called ‘diaspora’, I am  forced to be a hapless spectator. I’m forced to ponder on the question: “Where do I stand in shaping my country’s future?”  

I am 100 percent Zimbabwean, a Manyika from Tanda in Rusape.

Honourable Elton Mangoma is my outgoing Member of Parliament while Chief Makoni is my traditional leader.

My totem is Shumba (lion) ‘maSibanda’.  I was born and bred in the capital of the Midlands Province, Gweru, educated at Cecil John Rhodes Primary School then St Dominics Chishawasha then Thornhill High School and finally the Midlands State University.

I’m fluent in Shona and speak a bit of Ndebele.

I am Zimbabwean - fully fledged.

Fortunately or unfortunately (it depends on how you look at it), I am betrothed to an Angolan. I find myself attempting to fit into a society which is so different from mine. They drive on the right side of the road, use left hand cars, speak Portuguese, consider lunch their main meal, eat cassava meal instead of maize meal (sadza in my mother language) and have no problem buying meat from what we call flea markets back home.

The differences are so many. I am called ‘estrangeira’ (foreigner in Portuguese).

Yet, for some reason my government chooses to ignore these facts labelling me an ‘enemy’ and virtually excluding me from any electoral processes.

Anyone living outside Zimbabwe will tell you that it is not easy assimilating into a new culture but the lure of money and escape from poverty drive one to accept the painful transition. I have met Zimbabwean men and women who travel from Zambia in open trucks, through the rain and sunny weather and once in Angola, move along the streets with large bags of wares. They do not receive much, but they get enough for subsistence and to send back home. On any given day, these people will trade anything to return home because life in these foreign lands gets so lonely and sometimes so difficult to bear.

The only reason why they continue slaving away, earning minimum wages is because there are very few opportunities back home mainly due to a man-made economic disaster. But does this make them less Zimbabwean?

It’s simple.

Regardless of where one stays - Angola, South Africa, the United Kingdom, China or with Santa Claus in the North Pole, they remain citizens of our beloved country.

Am I not Zimbabwean?

Regardless of where I am domiciled I still carry a green passport engraved with the court of arms and boldly inscribed ZIMBABWE.

I still have to renew my residency every year and I still can’t vote in Angola. Bottom line is, national identity is something which no one can decide to take away at the snap of their fingers (although it seems the current establishment has tried so hard to do so).

Not everyone is privileged enough to travel back home in order to participate in the election. It is my belief that a government’s job is not to make life difficult for its citizens but rather to facilitate unrestricted citizen involvement and engagement in key processes regardless of where they are.

What is the role of Zimbabwe’s foreign missions?

Participating in an election is a RIGHT and not a privilege which can only be enjoyed by a select few. The notion that those who work at embassies are the only ones entitled to vote is erroneous and is a reinforcement of the segregation and deprivation of rights which our forefathers fought against.

A government is tasked with putting in place economic, social and political policies which have an effect on every citizen regardless of their place of residence.

Most Zimbabweans abroad have economic interests in the country and have persistently supported the economy since 2008, the era of hyperinflation and empty supermarket shelves. Some are business owners, others own assets and whichever government gets into power can either protect or destroy their investments.

In addition, lessons learnt from the past when the government changed the citizenship laws show how much policies affect the ‘diaspora’. So why not allow them to vote?

At this juncture, there is nothing, I or any other person can do or say to give me back the right which the government has brutally taken away from me but I hope that whichever government assumes power, in August or September or even October (with ZEC you never know when the results will come out), will address the challenges faced by Zimbabweans living outside the country.

My prayer is that the government will rethink the decision to treat the ‘Diaspora’ as enemies but as ‘vana vevhu’ (children of the soil).

As for now, like a foreigner, I find myself watching the progress (or lack of it) of the electoral process on ENews, Al Jazeera and any other news channel I can access.

I’m forced to cross my fingers and hope that the decisions my family and friends make regarding the leader of our country will reflect my views and positively influence my future and the future of my children.

Can my family and friends vote on my behalf?

From a distance, I continue to watch, to wait and to hope. At the same time I continuously find myself asking - Do I really have the right to parade my green passport and claim that I am Zimbabwean?

Where do I stand?

Deliver us from evil!

'No woman should die while giving life'

On the eve of my birthday, the 17^th of May 2013, I attended a funeral and burial at the local cemetery in ‘the Diamond City’, Saurimo in Angola. The ceremony was painful. Anna, a 28 year old woman, full of life and potential died of complications during childbirth. They say that the child was too big for natural delivery thus, she needed a caesarean section. Nurses at the hospital realised this too late. Both her and the baby died.

The anguished cries of her family are still imprinted in my mind. The pain written on their faces can never be described or quantified. No one saw it coming, her death was sudden, a life unexpectedly and ruthlessly cut short. It was a needless death because something could have been done. 

Though I never knew the woman, serve for the fact that she was married to my husband’s friend, my heart bled. In my mind, I kept thinking that it could have been me. Being a woman and a mother myself I kept imagining myself in that coffin, my husband, children, family and friends bidding me farewell, all because of my desire to create a new generation of possible leaders. 

She was carrying the future, a promise, a life. She had hopes, dreams, expectations for her child and herself and I am sure she already had a name for the baby and had bought a room full of clothes and toys. As fate would have it, she died before she could even hold her child in her arms leaving behind her four other children. Tragic! 

While all these images of a young life cut short were playing in my mind, I questioned myself on how such a tragedy could occur in a country endowed with vast diamond and oil reserves. Angola’s petroleum industry pumps around 1.78 million barrels of oil a day, according to the Organisation of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) with Bloomberg reporting that the country’s crude oil constituted 2,6% of United States imports in February and 12% of China’s in March. Moreover, the country is the third largest producer of diamonds in Africa and the world’s fifth biggest exporter of the precious mineral. According to Trading Economics, the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) in Angola expanded 7.40 percent in 2012 from 2011. In 2011 the GDP was pegged at USD104.3 billion. The GDP is the total value of the goods and services produced in a country. It thus represents the growth of the economy. 

The above statistics paint a global picture of just how wealthy the Southern African country is yet the wealth on paper has not translated to accelerated human development. Put plainly, while the country is developing economically and surpassing expectations of analysts, its population is not enjoying the fruits of the land. I mean, how else would you explain the fact that the country is ranked 24^th on the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) maternal mortality rate index? How would you explain the fact that of every 100 000 live births, 450 women die? Some people have argued that the ‘human under-development’ is a remnant of the protracted civil war experienced from 1975 to 2002. But my belief is that, Angola, like most African countries has neglected the right to health by paying minimal attention to maternal health issues, compromising the lives of millions of women and neglecting their duty to promote and protect human rights.

'Make every woman and child count'

The 2012 Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) progress report states that although maternal deaths have declined and maternal health has improved, progress towards achieving Goal 5 of the MDGs, ‘To Reduce by three quarters, between 1990 and 2015, the maternal mortality ratio’, remains slow particularly in Sub- Saharan Africa. Despite the fact that over the past 23 years, the maternal mortality rate has halved, achieving the 2015 target remains a pipeline dream. The report notes that in Southern Africa alone, for every 100,000 live births, 500 women die. This is an extremely high figure. There are a myriad of reasons for the high maternal mortality rate including, poverty, early pregnancies and HIV and AIDS. However, my belief is that the root cause of the tragic loss of life lies in the failure by governments to prioritise human development and to create a conducive environment for development of health facilities.

Africa turned 50 on the 25^th of May 2013. Achieving the half century mark presents an opportunity for reflection and self- introspection on the progress made in developing the continent and in promoting African renaissance and unity. This analysis should be broader than just economic prowess and should include progress made towards promoting development particularly maternal health. There is need for greater commitment from the Angolan and generally, African governments and channelling of resources towards improving the quality of health for everyone including and particularly women. Given, the Angolan government has made efforts to increase health facilities in the country but without adequate, professional personnel and medicine, the buildings are nothing more than just big white elephants.

I shudder at the thought of waking up someday to a world where women have declared that they will not bear any children until the maternal health system improves. I shudder at the thought of waking up to an aging unproductive population. It is time that governments particularly in Africa appreciate that the survival of womankind is inextricably connected to the survival of the world. Thus, the protection of women through ensuring adequate health services especially during the three stages of pregnancy is key. There is need for the translation of commitments made at regional and international levels into tangible actions. Wealth is not only measured in terms of monetary value but also in terms of how much a country values, protects and provides for its citizenry.

Do you remain human?

Judgmental, insensitive, unfair, oppressive, patriarchal.  A succinct description of what society is to members of the fairer sex. Some have said that the new Millennium gave birth to a new line of thinking, a society which appreciates and acknowledges the role played by women and sets them at par with their male counterparts. Given, we have made some progress mostly in terms of enacting legislation which protects women and girls. 

However, the undeniable truth is that, society, which often dictates acceptable norms and appropriate behaviour, remains the biggest demon in perpetrating gender based abuse against its own children. Its cancerous nature continues to gnaw at the fundamental rights of women negating them to lives of torment and continual unhappiness. In sociology we were taught that culture is dynamic and changes with time, a situation which is aided by globalisation. Yet, in my opinion, our society remains the same repressive one towards women while it depicts men as a grandiose species which is without fault, if any, they are inherent and should be accepted. 

I remain amazed by the experiences women go through at the hands of their husbands and how, after going through a pool of pain, they still remain in these relationships and hold on to the hope and faith that all will be well. But because of the general perception by society that the crude and untrammeled behavior of most men is normal, natural and thus acceptable, often times the change in men is generally fake, ‘lipstick on a frog’, beautiful outside but damn ugly inside. And often times after the wound of deception has healed, the scar remains visible for the rest of your life. I often wonder, how does one go through harrowing experiences and still remain human? How do you stomach betrayal and disappointment from a person who is ideally supposed to protect and love you? How do you live with yourself and in some instances with him after going through so much?

  

Take a cousin of mine, who had a fairy tale wedding (the kind where buses are sent to rural areas to ferry family and friends). Everything was blissful, the perfect virginal bride and the successful young handsome groom .Years passed by, no children. My cousin was in and out of hospital which we all attributed to high stress levels caused by the inability to conceive. eight  years after the wedding, her husband fell ill, was admitted in hospital and within a few hours, the diagnosis spread among family members like a veld fire. HIV positive. The family learnt that mukwasha (son-in law) had omitted this fundamental detail before settling down with her and had knowingly infected my cousin. She only found out almost five years into their marriage but her husband insisted that they keep it a secret. I’m not stigmatising neither am I saying that they should have never wedded. The man did not disclose his status and knowingly infected her with a chronic illness which to date, has no cure. 

Then, enter the in-laws who blamed her for their son’s illness. Yet through all the persecution, she remained faithful to him, nursing him until his mother virtually kidnapped her son from her daughter in law. To this day, she still loves him, still protects him and still makes excuses for his behaviour. She is a God fearing woman and believes in the commitment she made before God to love and cherish this man until the day she dies. But, did he keep his promises to her? Was it love which led him to deliberately deceive her and cause her such pain and misery? If the situation were reversed, would he have accepted it? 

Another example, a woman I know had a serial cheat for a husband. Put plainly, this man couldn’t resist the temptation of skirts. Or as my lecturer at the Midlands State University used to say, even if a female private organ was put on a tree, he would still copulate with it. He went around town having sex with all kinds of women, fat, slim, short, tall, ugly, beautiful, you name it and sired children with two of these women (at least these are the known ones).  And at some point, the wife was threatened at gun point by a soldier whose wife the husband was apparently bedding. This woman contracted syphilis from her husband. To this day, more than 10 years after their divorce, the sexually transmitted disease still bothers her. She stayed for more than 12 years with him, through the illegitimate children, sexually transmitted illnesses and humiliation. When she finally got the guts to leave him, she had lost her innocence and had found comfort in another man’s arms. 

These are not the only two examples of women who’ve been let down. We all read on a daily basis of women who are beaten to pulp by their spouses, others killed, even more raped. Yet they stick around for one reason or the other but often times their decisions are influenced by society, religion, their mothers who tell them that all men are the same and they should hold on or their fathers who are too greedy to return the bride price or other women who share similar experiences and encourage them to put it all in God’s hands. Or in some instances, it is the psychological set of a woman’s mind which is always looking for a way to make it work or fix things. Some turn to religion, some to traditional interventions through love portions and some to fate. 

Three generations of women...

 The point is women have always been enslaved by social norms and the constant desire to do what is right as defined by a repressive society. Despite the callous nature of the men described above, the murderer, the serial cheat, the wife barterer and the rapist, families of these unfortunate women often encourage them to hold on and ‘work for their relationships’. Isn’t that what we are all encouraged to do at kitchen parties, bridal showers and family gatherings? We are told, ‘Shingirira’ (remain steadfast). And because as women brought up by upright, God fearing and traditional families, we sacrifice our own happiness to please the men in our lives. We become sacrificial lambs. We hold on until the last straw breaks. We put everyone else’s interests ahead of our own. We become enslaved in expectations be it from the church or from our own families. We cannot throw in the towel and say, ‘to hell with the garbage, I am leaving’. And often times we are afraid to leave these abusive relationships because we don’t want to end up single, wrinkled and ‘unhappy’. Unhappy in quotes because society has socialised us to believe that true happiness comes from marriage and a woman does not have an honourable status until she is married. But does it really?

What worries or concerns me the most is whether women who go through such experiences leave or remain in the relationships untainted, whether after years of abuse and self sacrifice they can still look themselves in the mirror and love the person they see. Call me unforgiving or stone hearted but I would hate my own image. How does one go through such experiences and remain sane. Surely I would lose my mind, maybe stab someone in his sleep. Can one learn to love again after having spent so many years in perpetual bondage from the man she pledged to love and sacrifice for? How do you face the man who vowed to protect you from the harsh realities of the world, after he has dragged your heart through the dust for a thousand miles? 

Will the new generation of women be bold enough to demand a better 

deal from their spouses?

I respect the women who continue fighting for their relationships because it takes courage and a good heart to swallow abuse whether physical, emotional or financial. But mostly I salute my sisters who, after realising that there is nothing left to fight for, throw in the towel, stamp their feet and with their heads held up high, dispose of the heartbreaker. Surrendering is never easy; perhaps it’s the most difficult action to take. BUT I believe that the most important decisions in life are the hardest to make but once made, they signal the beginning of a totally new and different way of living.  There is no point in spending the rest of your life tolerating a person who might never tolerate you if the situation were reversed. There is no point in changing who you are, turning sweet innocence into brutal culpability because of the bad experiences you encounter. Sometimes it’s better to hit the road before you are scarred for life. Like Adele sang in Someone like You, ‘Sometimes it lasts in love BUT sometimes it hurts instead’.