Thrift shopping ...Yay or Nay? Tips 101

I would change Shakespeare's quote in "Twelfth Night" to become "If fashion be the food of life play on....give me excess of it...." I am an avid slave to fashion and its no secret. However, trying to keep up with the latest trends can prove to be expensive and honestly, my sisters can attest to the fact that in Zimbabwe most of our shops and so called boutiques are heavy laden with chinese fake originals and downright poor quality clothes. As if thats not enough, these boutiques duplicate each other and refuse to branch out and order clothes that dare to be different .They prefer to play it safe. This is detrimental to their business because what they have to offer to us fresh faced youths is just plain boring like dishwater. Anyway their business acumen is not any of my business. My main concern is that i crave diversity and trendy clothes of acceptable quality. I refuse to go around clothed in something that will have me believe that i have enrolled in the same school of fashion with half of the population. 1 refuse to have a style stance that is common or ends up looking like a school uniform because we are too many dawning the same clothing items.

Style is never about copying to  a tee fashion trends we see overseas but it is all about being able to manipulate that trend and make it your own. The need to be trendy has always been my ultimate goal. As a result i decided to thrift shop and boy did i find some pieces that have people green with envy. It has never been my wish to partake in second hand clothing or 'Vintage " as they call it. My first concern has always been the health hazards associated with buying second hand clothing. In Zimbabwe thrift shopping is popularly termed visiting 'khothama boutique'. Its all because of the bending down technique associated with the process of retrieving the wares.So i would like to impart some knowledge on how to thrift shop effectively. And to give you methods that will guarantee you being able to retrieve the most precious gold or pieces that are to die for.

The dawn of a colourful palate of churches. Is our search for God justified?

A generation marred with alcohol and drug abuse. Our School goers are they on a path of self destruction?

Unveiling of the myth that is "Circumcision"

In Genesis  17 verse 11 God spoke to Abraham and said "And you shall be circumcised in the flesh of your foreskin, and it shall be the sign of the covenant between me and you." This is a command God made between him and his people to seal the covenant between them. The removal of the foreskin symbolized how God as a covenant keeping God wanted to make a special covenant with his people who were so dear to his heart. Biologically,

School children and ICT's. Recipe for disaster or progressive move?

Child marriages on a high as economy systematically pulmates.

A child nurturing  a child is the norm in the new Zimbabwe. Everywhere your neck has the privilege to turn has you bombarded with the sight of young girls backing newborns. What has the future of the vulnerable girl child come to? Whom have these children left the custody of their books to? Have they given up on the life that was before the nation started facing these economic woes?So many questions and yet so few answers.

Chapter One -Maidei's Canvas

CHAPTER ONE

The mail has come…I can see my fellow schoolmates tethering in excited chatter in which I refuse to partake. My lack thereof of that feeling I can see beaming on their faces is because I never got letters. Boarding school in primary school demands that thread tying you to your home to remain untouched, untempered with and intact. However, mine has been severed to smithereens since I am the forgotten one. The child people only remember when they see. As long as I am not in their line of vision I am a foreign city. A foreign city that is only remembered when one is forced to go on vacation there. Some see it as only a letter but that little package would bridge the gap between me and my distant parents. Something I always anticipated but was always disappointed to the point of having no expectations.

Disappointment mounting upon disappointment seemed to the story of her life. Anga aneta nekubaiwa nehupenyu kunge tsono dzinohoreswa.Sometimes she felt as though she couldn't take any more of it since there was no more room for it in her disappointment immersed life. All that was left was for her to scream ‘I AM DISSAPOINTED OUT!!’ She should have drowned a while back from it but it took even her by surprise how she was still alive and how she kept on surviving through that horrid feeling. It was yet still a wonder to her how she still got up…she had not a single pinch of hope left in her body that reeked with the stench of disappointment. Ndicharamba ndichishungurudzika kusvika kupi ko nhai veduwe? How much more could she take? She quizzed the powers that be desperately. The question hung like a pendulum swaying to and fro in the dead of an empty neglected room. Resounding over and over again like the tik tok of the grandfather clock in the deserted corridors of a convent.

Sei? Baba’s death from that disease everyone in our society spoke about in harsh whispers and frowned upon, fore ran that of mama whose death had not prepared me for a sense of loss I knew I could never recover from. We had been taught in bible knowledge class about the story of John the Baptist and him being the fore runner of Jesus Christ. There seemed to be a resemblance with the deaths of my parents the difference being john was paving the way for the coming messiah whilst baba’s death had not paved the path for mama’s death in any way instead the grief I felt was so heavy my shoulders ached….

Mama wrote me letters only when I found a way to twist her arm about it. I wanted her to remember me without the unnecessary cohesion. Disappointingly, this remained a far fetched dream that would never blossom into reality. Like man being able to land on the sun...a dream no one attempted to buy. Question me one day to explain to you how a mother is able to forget her own child like she didn't birth her in those harrowing moments of labor. Worse yet why she had not opted for the quick cowardly way out that would have blotted me from existence without me having set foot into the world of human existence. In response to your question, it still was a riddled mystery how a mother could do that to her own flesh…her own colt that needed her milk till it was off age and independent enough. I cannot answer your question because I refuse to answer for her sins. She should answer, mama should surely answer.  The platform is there for her to do so adequately. Unfortunately, she is belly up and most probably weaving her tales and giving those much needed answers to the lifeless bodies in the city council cemetery. Of what use is that to me? This is one of the moments where I wish I could trade places with one of those corpses and get my much needed answers.

I’m being worse than the word foolish in this moment but that is as far as honest about my feelings as I can go. I know you wonder how I could wish to be dead at this point in time when those corpses would give whatever valuables they had in this lifetime to have a second go at life. Life and death, far apart but yet so close. You could swear the two were walking hand in hand depending on those involved. Maybe life and death could be companions one day. It would be my deepest wish so that I could talk to mama.  Finally put her on the stand. If this chronic case of nostalgia could bring her back, she is already here.

Many questions …no answers. Whom is to blame nhai amai?  

happy thursday selfie

I couldn't resist the urge to take a few selfies today. Quote of the day "God sees the depths our hearts and loves us just the same.

"

short hair diaries

I decided one day to cut my hair and start all over. I looked up african young women who had tried and tessted that path like Nnandi Ngoma from South Africa and Tariro NeGitare who hails rights here in Zimbabwe .Upon having done the damned i began to realise that the struggle became real.

Yeah, short hair is good at the beginning ,what withe fresh faced look and youthfulness that comes with it. But when i started to grow out my hair,this bliss just took a left and turned into a nightmare. I was now fast running out of ideas on how best to style myself up. Plus with shorter hair it is a fashion crime to bare faced. With no make up you look like you got off the last chicken bus from my native Buhera. I couldn't risk going out there in public without my best face forward anyway, it means i would have to put on make up every other day. And that burns an illicit hole in your pocket i am  telling you. What with the well known brands of foundations and powders  costing a hefty catch, it did not make things any better. Mind you, one tip i dish out for free is that ...buy your cosmetics be it lipstick, foundation and powder from well renowned and established brand houses like Edgars, Truworths and of course you can trust pharmarcies. Chances of bumping it a fake or fong kong in those shops is nil.

Anyway back to the hair, i regretted it as soon as the barber had put down his machine. But contrary to what i believed most of the feedback i got from onlookers was that it suited me and i looked younger. What i couldn't grasp was why i felt far from confident with my natural short hair. It then dawned upon me like a light bulb that i had been socialized in such a way that short hair wasn't to be put in the same sentence with a woman. In Zimbabwe people now associate strutting with short hair as maybe being a sign that things are not going too well for you financially. Your financial disposition should be seen with the human hair or Brazilian or Peruvian  or Indian hair  plaited in your hair. 

The longer the hair ,the fatter your wallet ,so they say. Apparently, this hair gets expensive by the inch. So i have been putting on weaves since i was 19 years old and it had been close to ten years without having made a visit to the barber. It had slipped from me that an African woman could actually carry her crown proudly without any additives. Inasmuch as i was uncomfortable i had little choice but to bear the brunt of my not so clearly thought out decision. The English have an old adage that says " you make your bed, be prepared to lay in it" . This was now me laying in my bed so to speak.

 So i had to to do the best that i could with the little resources i had. Funny enough i embraced my new look in no time and everywhere i went people would be like "wow...how do you afford to be so confident without a single weft of a weave in your hair?" this gave my self confidence a boisterous boost and i became addicted to always trimming it up so that it looked phresh all the time. I was a barbers machine addict for a good four months straight and was loving it. however, i have decided to try and grow it out and maybe start plaiting it again. Not because i got negative feedback but because by nature i like to try out new things and am  a slave to change. Hence, my short hair era has sadly come to an end. But who knows... who is to say that maybe it will hit a comeback when i set my eyes on that barbers machine and the journey will begin...again. Nothing is set on stone except for the  Ten Commandments.

she relents

up and down my soul has wandered
looking for ease where there's none
yet i want to be your one
and only child
whose soul will relent
in pursuit of the deep things
only you inhuman can comprehend

i am in am out
who knows and who cares
they see me restless but are rest at ease
my restlessness will relent
like God's child will repent

nights and noons gone by still i will relent
my soul wonders in awe at your patience
you are not like they
who are rest at east when i relent
because you are my God who loves that i have repented

Prologue- MAIDEI'S CANVAS

PROLOGUE

Maidei was her name.

And still is her name because I almost choke from her pungent existence around me despite her body lying in nature’s own decay. I still hold on that it is still her name because my spirit is holding on to her relentlessly and will not let her go. The grip of my spirit resembles the iron fist that of a gladiator readying himself for his last chance to fight for his life. Yes, physically to others, mother, you are no more but to me your daughter I refuse to just write you off from this world that easily.

I want you here… Why are you not here? Did this world finally stifle the hopelessness too that you had in life? A hopelessness you were so sly to hide from prying eyes. Even if other pairs of eyes where ignorant to it mine were privy to it all. That robust flame that once used to light up your face and my world…put out …leaving in its place eyes so vacant I could drown in their hollowness. Mama… come back! I want to tap off the livelihood that once lit up your face. To dance in the flicker of emotions that transcended like a kaleidoscope of beautiful emotions…from joy…to mischief…awe...to wonder…admiration and to hope.

I am coming out in the open about my addiction today after my whole life of using… my drug of choice being the fire in your eyes. I am afraid that the withdrawal symptoms will devour me to irretrievable shreds when I do not get my next fix.   Those symptoms will leave me bleeding to my death in the hope that I join you and award me the reunion I so crave to my core. I know that I have already lost a battle unfought. That my defeat is inevitable. I will not labor to put up a fight because the outcome will be the same. Shameful defeat…

So many questions left unanswered…will her ghost answer them and give me the peace I so deserve? The long relentless pursuit ceases here in this narrow bed of a grave and I cannot help but feel cheated of my right to know why she left us and never looked back. Leaving behind girl children without a mothers touch …girl children now shells of women …and worse still in their emptiness their last skeleton of hope has been diminished into nothing.   They shall never know the truth.

Violation of the right to education of every minor as per the Constitution

The right to education as articulated in Section 75(1)-(4) of the Constitution of Zimbabwe is vague and embarrassing. This is because the provisions therein fail to stipulate the environment in which this right can be exercised or enforced by the holder of that right. As a result it begs the question that how can a right holder be guaranteed of enforcing their right without fear of being deprived unlawfully of such exercise merely because of a triviality.

Students in Zimbabwe at the moment are in examination mode and are hoping to reap what they have sown. Of particular interest is the story of the male student from Bocha village, precisely Mutsvene High School, who was barred from sitting for two examination papers merely because he was not putting of any shoes.

What pulls at your heartstrings in this matter that was published by the Herald newspaper last week Thursday, is that he is not the first or nor shall he be the last to write his examinations without shoes. So many affluent businessmen and influential persons today in our country walked and mirrored that path because their families where impoverished and couldn’t afford shoes let alone the school uniform. They however were not barred from writing these exams barefoot….but look at where they are today. They are who they are because their poor backgrounds acted as a motivating factor for them to rise above their circumstances. They proved that it is not as if the shoes do the writing for you in the examination but steely determination supersedes all else.

This school is situated in the depths of the rural areas and the majority of students enrolled there hail from poverty stricken homes. Their families can barely afford putting a single meal on the table a day let alone can they afford to buy shoes. They cannot afford to exercise their basic right to food, as a result, having shoes on their feet becomes a luxury that is farfetched.

However, there is some solace and comfort in knowing that the same Constitution in Section 81(2) safeguards the best interests of the child. The best interests of a child below the age of majority are paramount in every matter concerning that child.

This provision in relation to the story mandated the Headmasters’ wife to make an educated evaluation of whether it was in the students’ best interests to turn him away from writing these examinations merely because of such a triviality. Really??? She played God the moment she did that and means there are consequences that she has to face without question. The Constitution is the supreme law of the land as per Section 2 of the Constitution. Her actions are a gross violation and disregard of the provisions thereto and this desperately calls for the Zimbabwe Human Rights Lawyers Association to act pronto. This behaviour cannot go unpunished and this student would need to be compensated with damages in a variety of forms.

In my view this teacher has to be made into an example for other teachers to desist from such unwarranted behaviour. We are well are that the job comes with it some frustrations but this job should not be a means to earn a living but a calling. If it were a calling she would have tried to understand the boys’ predicament and would not in any uncertain terms turned him away. This is the rising problem in our country where people apply for jobs not because of the natural push from within them to serve their communities but instead because it’s a means to an end and they couldn’t care less of the casualties along the way. This is because this action touches on so many aspects of that boys’ life some of which cannot be compensated. The damage is a challenge to quantify in monetary terms. This leaves this situation difficult in determining the outcome.

Inasmuch as the headmaster volunteered to pay for the boy in June 2016 for the examinations he missed, how shall he compensate him for time and energy wasted preparing for these examinations? Furthermore, he must have been studying with others,they shall proceed to the next stage and he shall remain behind, who shall assist him? To add on the set back on time and the fact that he shall have two sittings instead of one. Many jobs nowadays insist that the applicant should have one sitting for their ordinary level examinations and have one certificate as a requirement. How shall that be recompensed? The emotional and psychological trauma cannot be ignored, how shall that be dealt with? Whoever his is guardian has been trying to suffer through the preparatory stages for the examinations by buying books and stationary and food, how shall that be compensated? Is it a crime to be poor, does one choose to be poor or you are born into it and you strive to leave that life behind through full utilisation of opportunities presented? In this case this boys’ one shot at breaking away from a background of poverty has been shattered to many irretrievable pieces. How will this opportunity be pieced back together? This is a mission school, how does the Roman Catholic Church seek to return to status quo this situation?

So many questions and yet so few answers. It is a gross injustice that will be a mammoth’s task to rectify. Yet it could have been avoided in the first place. The teacher responsible for what transpired may be disciplined according to the code of conduct of teachers and may be stripped of her duties and yet still  fired….but does that bring restitution to the boy in question? Food for thought indeed.

Yellow bone ...the new definition of beauty?

YELLOW BONE… THE NEW DEFINITION OF BEAUTY?

It’s amazing the great lengths at which some people would leap all in the name of vanity. Or is it vanity or the mounting pressure to fit in the bracket of the new definition of beauty. As I walk in the streets of Harare CBD I realize that most of the ladies are looking radiant and glowing as ever. I wonder what the magic recipe behind this beauty is so that I may partake in it. Most ladies seem to have stumbled upon the fountain of youth because as a woman trust me its far from easy to admit that our fellow gender mates are looking amazing. So I must admit, everywhere I go and where my head has the privilege to turn to I encounter a full course meal of the eyes, embodied by one woman. Vakadzi vanaka mhani! And I need to know the secret behind this phenomenon.

Upon a general survey with my ever curious eyes I have reached the conclusion that in every four women, three are light skinned. Is it just a mere coincidence or there’s a reason behind this man made status quo? I will speak for myself, I’m not light skinned or even medium toned but I dapple between a darker medium tone and the dark skin tone. Right before I proceed, I need to tell you a little history about myself.

Growing up I was the sibling to one older sister and she was the epitome of beauty for me. I looked up to her in all things because she was well liked and seemed to get attention of males constantly. I always looked at myself and thought there was something horribly wrong with my family. That maybe my mother was handed the wrong baby at the hospital in the form of myself. So you can imagine how much of a shadow I felt in comparison with my sister. Anyway, fast forward, I’m sure you have guessed correctly that my sister was and is what they now call ‘Yellow bone’ or ‘Yellow Bonzo’.

People seem to have run away from the old adage that the “darker the berry the sweeter the juice” and have instead run with the saying that “the lighter skinned lady the luckier the man who wins her heart”. Any way the pressure has mounted on women to either conform or lose out. And most have chosen to conform for fear of remaining on the sidewalk whilst other women have a place on the tarmac. My question would be, where is this pressure coming from?

Firstly, men have now taken the liberty to define the new dimension of beauty. They have seen that have a darker skinned woman means that you are no valiant enough or man enough. They have seen that they want their egos to be massaged by fellow men in their circles because they have a “trophy” girlfriend or wife on their arm. Hanzi simbi yamdhara. Men no longer measure the value of a woman through her virtues but instead through the color of her skin and how appealing she looks in the crowd. It has gone so far as some husbands telling their dark skinned wives to bleach their skin or ship out. Or adversely, they decide to have extra marital affairs with these so called beautiful women to the extent that they throw in the towel to their marriages. The security of a dark skinned woman in her marriage has been left to dangle on a worn out shoelace. Thus, some give in to the tide and ride along with the situation. I mean there’s even an old saying that says “if you can’t beat them join them.”

The means to the end is the one I question. Every street corner is laden with skin lightening creams of various assortments from as far as Zambia and Angola. They have even realized that these creams do not go skin deep and have introduced pills and injections that do the trick faster and with less effort. From what I have heard from a well-established dermatologist, these creams have some side effects that some people are unaware of or have decided to ignore. She mentioned that these creams have the deadly chemical “hydro quinine” which erodes the skin cells and kill the functions of the skin cells to heal and repair themselves. Furthermore, when exposed to harsh weather conditions like extreme heat or cold the skin ceases to protect itself but instead is left exposed to such brutalities. Ultimately, the skin becomes an addict to the cream and when one attempts to stop using it suffers from severe withdrawal symptoms like unstoppable skin rush and acne and the acute darkening of the skin.

Another source of this pressure to look beautiful and fit in is the programmes we watch on TV.  We see celebrities and singers looking so radiant in their lighter skin and thus are nudged to conform. An example is in the Nigerian movies where most women are light skinned.

Why take the risk and what cost? All I can say is I want to be a part of the remaining nearly to be extinct breed of dark skinned women who are comfortable in their own skin. I want to be that woman in a photograph where people will be in awe and say ‘wow do such women still exist?’ Yes, because being dark does not rule you out as being ‘ugly’ . Look at Alek Wek , Olivia Davis and Lupita Ny’oongo just to mention a few. Women of color who are not afraid to flaunt their darkness in a bold way and say, ‘look if Hollywood doesn't want this they can jump ship because this ship is going places’. Being proudly African and patriotic to how God carved us to be is the strength of the African woman. She refuses to be defined by ever changing trends but is constant in her belief that in her darkness she turns heads.

Published by TawanaTariro

Child beggars...who is to blame?

When the word child comes to mind, it’s usually associated with a lot of play, fun, school and laughter. These are the activities they indulge in as part of their growth process. However, we have seen a breed of children in the streets of Harare or any other urban city taking to work through begging. Who is to blame for this predicament?

The Constitution defines a child as “any boy or girl who is below the age of 18”. A child as a minor is incapable of making any decisions that affect his or her life hence the need for a major through a parent or guardian above the age of majority to stand as its custodian. In exercising their representative capacity for the child, the parent or guardian is expected to safeguard the best interests of that child over and above all things. This provision is enshrined in the Constitution. Is it in the child’s best interest to be deprived of education, play and fun by parents who use their child as a mode of survival in begging?

A child is entitled to play and learning as part of the socialization process and growth. But it would appear as though there is an increased number of children who beg for a living or after school beg, in the process being deprived of both and much more. A stolen childhood is the end result.

What pulls at your heartstrings even the more is these innocent children most barely in their teens are roped into this lifestyle by their own parents who are supposed to be their custodians. A child of the streets who has been born to a begging parent is being used as a front to manipulate generous givers. The parent has seen that the only way the general populace can be over generous or nudged to be generous is if they are ensnared by the pitiful faces of these children asking for donations especially money.

Most of these have not reached teenage hood. Their parents rely on the notion that the younger the child begging the more generous the loot. These parents actually sit in the peripheries or out of plain sight whilst monitoring the movements of their begging children. For those who beg after school, the children are given a target of how much to bring home after “a day’s work”. Failure to do so has some dire consequences like in the form of deprivation of food.

 What I greatly doubt is how much they benefit directly from whatever they acquire in a day’s work? Or maybe their “employers” just take the spoils without reimbursing the one who worked for it.

Surely, who is to blame? Has the economic dwindle failed our children and influenced them to turn to begging as a way of survival yet in turn robbing them of the childhood they deserve? Or have their own parents failed them much more through being the force behind a child begging? Some parents, upon being quizzed actually say they have no choice but to use their child so as to sustain the family.

 I believe that in as much as the situation is dire, as the custodian of that child and the major in the situation, as a parent and naturer you have a choice. A choice to let your child be a child. Let that child enjoy its childhood without interference from anything or anyone. Show only love for your child by working hard and doing the begging yourself to sustain your family.

Published by TawanaTariro