Category: comedy

The Condition Part 2

Continued from … The Condition Part 1

“Hi, you have reached the voicemail of Judith, please leave a message and I will certainly get back to you”

“Ah sorry you said what? Judiiiithhh noooo I I I was meant to talk to my nephew Joseph. <beep> Since I’m here I might as well say “that’s the most sexiest voice universe has ever made. Since you didn’t say ‘Mrs’ I wouldn’t be faulted for leaving my number. 0772934811 please do cal.. <beep><beep>

“Oh I heard the beep in my phone my money, I have run out of airtime but I wouldn’t min….

The phone was off way earlier than anticipated and he was just going on and on by himself. He cursed. He was about to say his name and his mind. Could she have got the message. Would she phone. Was she a Miss or Mrs. It was worth trying. 

“For all those boarding flight UM232 from Vic Falls to Harare, please proceed to Gate 1 we are now boarding”. The instructions came from a cocky voice and the speakers’ dust matched the voice, just as everyone made a beeline to the plane. Whilst aboard she fastened her seatbelt and was ready to doze off when the flight attendant spoke. 

Thank you for choosing to fly Air Zimbabwe 🇿🇼… “choosing from what when it’s the sole airline servicing the route” she murmured and fell asleep way before the plane was airborne. 

As they touched on Harare International Airport she hurriedly collected her bags and led the way. Obviously the landing woke her up. She wasn’t surprised by the landing but rather annoyed at the repeat by the stewards of their well rehearsed statement. 

Thank you mame, we hope you enjoyed the flight and thank you for choosing to fly with us. Hope to see you soon” she frowned. Why do they keep saying thank you for choosing us, as though there is an alternative. After going through the revolving doors she switched on her cellphone and noted she had voicemail. 

She jotted the number down and did a dummy payment on the mobile application so that she gets the name before she cancels the dummy payment. She gathered her esteem and decided to return the call. After all, the unknown caller had praised her and she thought why not give it a try

Hi my name is Judith, how are you Mr Kusena“. She decided to go formal. She giggled all the way from airport to their Gunhill home. The guy wouldn’t stop talking and he dished quotes faster than anyone she has ever known. As she entered the house she promised to keep in touch. The funny part is Mr Prince charmer wasn’t on Watsapp, hmmm strange 🤔. But she thought some people wouldn’t want the app either. 

“Love makes you blink when you should hold a stare and smile when you shouldn’t care” ~ beauty’s daughter

As days go by she would call him in the morning lunch and evening on way home. She asked what he did for a living and he answered simply. “Just like anyone else, I’m a hustler and I’m vending for a living”. She laughed as she reminded him everyone is always vending and hustling. 

They finally settled for a lunch outing. But he chose First Street Chicken inn. He had the courtesy to say he will be waiting outside by the entrance. 

“It’s impossible,” said pride;
“It’s risky,” said experience;
“It’s pointless,” said reason; 
“Give it a try,” whispered the heart….

As she arrived a little before time, she sat in a corner with her back on the street for fear of being identified. She didn’t see anyone who resembled her Prince Charmer. 

She was served a juice and the clock struck 1pm. ‘Will he be on time or the guys never make it on time’. Typical of public places a man being led by a child walked in. From the setup of holding a white stick and the left hand on the child’s shoulder meant he was blind. A begging bowl in hand meant he needed help. 

The blind man went first to the table where Judith was sitting and the kid pulled a chair for his dad to sit. 

No no no sorry the chair is taken and I don’t have any money please try begging somewhere else“. She pointed with her left hand clearly showing the diamond ring on her finger. 

The blind man and child sat patiently and calmly waiting for her to finish. After a while he cleared his throat and said in a begging voice 

“I am the guest you waiting for. My name is Bernard I did our table reservation as per promise and I was waiting outside by the entrance. When you sat at this table my son told me that you are here. I couldn’t see you neither can I see time, as you can by now tell that I’m blind”

                                                

     -oOo-

Life through the disability lens

NB: Based on a false story

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The Ressurection 

Continued from part 1 Who do you tell when you love ❤️ someone

We all stood there and just the breathing could be heard. Nobody talked. In times like these even the niddle could be so loud if dropped on the floor. 

We were all mind racing. I sat there but the truth is my mind was wondering up and down. My soul paced up and down and my heartbeat didn’t help matters either. 

The Police 👮 Constable seems to enjoy this. His eyes remained fixed on me. He must have carried this precision so many times that he even became used to scaring people with his direct stare. I was going to give him a nasty look, but he already had one. He cleared his throat like a judge who was about to deliver a verdict. 

He began to read the note that lay on his table. The same note that cancelled my wedding, the same note that I was the first to see as it dropped from the dead. Was she dead, I kept asking myself. I was hoping not. In such times, such prayers don’t get answered and you pray that the sky is congestion free, for you need your answers fast. 

Dear …. continued the officer as his eyes scanned through the note

If you are reading this please don’t be angry at me. I have decided to meet my marker. I have loved you since day one.
(The wife frowned) I have shielded all the girls who loved and or wanted you. I thought you were going to realize I never had a boyfriend all in the name of waiting for you. And this is how you repay me. Marrying someone under my watch. 

If it shall please you, please note I’m 4 months pregnant 🤰 

What? 😮. Me and the newly wedded wife managed to say in unison. “But… no it can’t be”. I said out aloud. But the loudness of my voice was interrupted by an even louder slap on my cheek from the wife. Even the Police officer frowned with envy that he too hasn’t slapped anyone with such mighty. I fell on the ground. What in boxing they call tko technical knockout. 

The doctor entered the Charge Office to give her side of the story, as she is the one who attended to T1. The friend of mine who shot herself at my wedding and we had to cut the wedding short. After all I was being arrested and charged on my wedding day. My wedding was what the British call a “dog’s breakfast”.

As she entered to deliver the news, she was shocked to see me lying on the floor. She didn’t know what to do. To deliver the news or attend to my bleeding mouth. I stood up in a clear sign of solidarity. I don’t mind dirty water but I do mind drowning.

“T1 is alive”. Said Mrs Devedzo, the doctor 

I leaped in air with that killer punch celebration.  I was celebrating my freedom for I won’t be charged for murder of T1. Even though I knew her survival might mean a whole lot more distraction as I’m now answerable to the wife. 

The officer said I was free to go. Just as I was about to walk out of the police station, I asked the officer if he could finish reading the note. 

Fast forward to today, 5 months later, in the dusty rural areas of Dotito, we are in a Roman Catholic Church for a funeral wake. T1 eventually passed away in her sleep due to complications at birth. She delivered a healthy baby girl who I named Tamiranashe but unfortunately she couldn’t make it. Doctors gave a laundry list of explanations none that I could believe. Father Raymond the local Priest was running late. The church was filled to capacity to pay the last respect to T1. 

Beautiful girls in mini skirts so short that left everyone to their imagining best sat on the front row. Even the married man shifted uneasily whilst their wives frowned, and the bachelors couldn’t stop peeping. As people sang waiting for the Priest to arrive I remember how as kids we used to interpret the drum beat and we coined a song “Fata murungu, Fata murungu” loosely translated to mean the Priest is a whiteman. 

The announcement came that Father Raymond wasn’t going to make it so Father Hebert would preside over the funeral. As he entered the church, by virtue of his name, everyone was stone cold to see and notice that Father Hebert was a blackman 😮. So why Hebert when he is black. Even the rural folklore whispered the rains would come late this year. Hazvisi zvega izvi. The last words I recall from the Priest was

“Life is pleasant 
Death is peaceful 
It’s the transition that’s troublesome” 

The ‘dust to dust’ hymn was the final song as her coffin was lowered into the grave. Wakabva kuivhu uchadzokera kuivhu. (Ashes to ashes)

There was a loud bang, popping sound that shattered the ears, those of nervous hearts fell down whilst some of us with military action took cover, only to realize it was a 3 man gun salute in honor of their departed comrade. Who was she really? 🤔

This was the resurrection that never was. The song faded away as I rubbed myself up, knees first for my only remaining suit. Last one standing after a nusty divorce. 

‘Fata murungu, Fata murungu Fata murungu’ I hummed 

                                        oOo

NB. Based on a false story

Who do you tell when you love someone

Those eyes that stare at you and you end up changing your opening line. As short as she was, she wasn’t short of superlatives to describe her.

She was the guy’s woman. Every guy would dream of dating her, many even tried their luck but failed. As beautiful as the words might describe her, she never dated, wasn’t dating and showed no sign of dating. Strange but who cared, we were the best of friends, she was my financial advisor. Used to wonder where the acumen sat in that small round head of hers.

Going out was fun, she would giggle and showed that she enjoyed her comfort. We would walk hand in hand to the braii stands and she called me darling, every gal nowadays says that. Nothing strange there. She used to say “I speak my mind. I never mind what I speak“.

She was born accurate, everything was inch perfect 👌. She would ask what you wearing so as to match your clothing. She had the nerve to tell you that you improperly dressed and would drive you back and select clothes for you. She despised us wearing coloured clothes like a crèche durawall.

Born slightly after independence in the 80s her big behind contradicted her small round baby face. The kind of woman who made other women jealousy. She was a true African, a traditional believer who never wore any trousers. Her Shona name was Tione but we christened her T1.

Her intelligence was amazing so was her structure, and eye for quality. We called her our FBI (Finance and Business Intelligence) and rumor was that her intelligence was infact from the Federals.

In one of our Nyanga business trips, the Eastern highlands of the country, where it was now obviously our get away place to refresh, she pointed out that a certain lady who was a neighbor was eyeing me for some time. I didn’t notice neither did I care. I was there to refresh my mind.

As we went to bed, we kissed goodbye (as has become the custom) and went to our different rooms. It amazed quite a lot of people as we seemed a couple, always together, arm in arm but slept different bedrooms. The worst was Victoria Falls, Ilala Lodge. We shared the same bed as it was fully booked, but we were friends so what’s the fuss.

Back on the Nyanga trip, nature’s call gripped me. I slipped into my pyjamas and went to look for what would quench my desire. I knocked firmly on one of the neighboring doors. No details needs to be said on what transpired later on that night.

All I remember was being told 2 months later that you are going to be a father. T1 remained calm to my surprise. But she was often like that and took things seriously and professionally.

Being African I was swift to marry before everyone noticed that there was a bun in the oven. A wedding followed 2 months  later.

There was something weird and something was wrong. The atmosphere was tense. But what could possibly go wrong. On a day like this, “This is the day the Lord has made and I will rejoice in it“, I comforted myself.

The Priest said a mouthful of things from behavior to sex, and I’m thinking “Why should we take advice on sex from the Priest? If he knows anything about it, he shouldn’t!”  He continued his sermon, “Care is to Express, Not to Impress; When Care is expressed truly, people get impressed naturally…, With the powers vested in me I do hereby pronounce you … there was a scream so loud to ignore. Someone yelled “call 911“.

But what would 911 and me have in common, so common to disturb my wedding. Just as I turned to face the Pastor so as to proceed with my wedding someone said it’s T1 who need an ambulance.

I didn’t think. I rushed to the car park only to see her body lying in a pool of blood. She had a pistol in her hand. But where did she get the gun. ‘Maybe she was the real FBI after all’, I thought to myself. She took her life. But why.

It was the note that lay beside her addressed to me that made me numb.

IMG_0606

oOo

*Based on a false story

Story of my life 

Having met Shadreck mid high school, a wealthy businessman’s son, life was rosy. He spoiled me with all that I wanted. I was the only girl in my rural area who could wear designer sporting attire. All thanks to him. As fate would have it,we did it, yes, for fear of losing him to other girls. 

Competition was stiff on him, so I was told. They advised me to give him all so as to contain him. I wasn’t amenable, infact I was iconoclastic. I resisted but later on submitted. Just like the deadly sniper, it was just that one shot and enough to bear a child Brandon. I had to drop from Tenth grade (Form 3) to nurse our son with the promise that once he has finished his Advanced Level we were going to marry. 

Fast forward to today, he doesn’t want anything to do with the child. Let alone me. He tells me in no printable words that I was a whore and how would I open my legs when I was only 16. Where had I seen that before. It’s all my fault now. What about the promise?. He asks me for where he signed this ( mou ) memorandum of understanding as evidence. What a highbrow. 

Things that education can do to people. I just sob in my sincerity. I never thought he would change. Was it because of education or the lights of the big city. Was it because I was not educated like him or because I never wore any trousers, perfumes, mini skirts that resembled more of a belt than a skirt. I wonder. 🤔

Now, in the society, I’m a disdain . In church people nolonger want to sit next to me. I’m the good example for wrong reasons. All verses seem to point to promiscuity. All he preaching tells people to be morally uptight. Even when the Preacher said “if you don’t meet the devil in your life it means you are hearding in the same direction“. Everyone looked at me

                      
In communities, the women shout so loud to each other about their daughters having passed with high flying colors at university. Is it because I never saw the front of a university let alone finish my ordinary level. 

The father of my son has since married and went for a pencil slim girl. She has long hair that almost reach her bums. Long nails and trims her eyebrows. Yet I’m short or chubby much closer to the ground, round face and the so called hard Mashona type of hair. (Kinky hair). They say history is for the victors and some will be remembered whilst others are forgotten, but facts can never be changed.

I have to do part time work to feed my son. Wherever I go they ask for educational certificates which I don’t have. Even as a maid they tell me I might be bad influence to their kids. If I did it how would I stop their children from doing it. Even those that have toddlers they tell me they would rather have someone without a kid. For they fear their food might fast disappear as I feed mine too from their pantry. Maybe they are right for “Sanity is not statistical” and “The consequences of every act are included in the act itself.”

As I sit by the road side with my baby at my back. Too tired to continue with the water bucket that I have to carry on my head from the water well. Maybe too tired because it’s been days since I ate a proper meal. Too tired after long nights trying to join pieces of cloth together to make clothes for my son. Too tired of thinking the if and buts or whys. 


With my palm around my right cheek, my head tilted and being supported by the hand, I see scholars in their uniforms coming from high school. Done with their day’s business. Among them I see pairs or boys and girls arm in arm. Love in the air. Some with their hands on their lovers waist. Obviously the hands for boys being a little lower than the waist. 

Tears rolled down my cheek. 

I was taken back to the real world by a loud scream and a sudden screeching of brakes. Dust rose so rapidly and I was choking. This is when reality struck….

To be continued

                                         – oOo

*Based on a false story 

Societal values

“I’m feeling bored, what are you up to”, she asked him, as she always does.

“Nothing much, just whiling up time feeding the animals”, he responded casually. “Let’s go out”.

To those who have an urban setup going out means a lot, considering the various options available.

In their case it was hearding to the river, sitting on a stone on the river bank and enjoying the crimson sunset.  This was their usual place. A secret spot. Looking down the river and at times peeping to those taking a bath in the river.

But not on this particular day. It started to drizzle, the ‘raining cats and dogs‘ type and the warmth of their bodies could be felt as they cuddled.

The heat arising from the stone as it evaporated in exchange of the coldness descending gave them comfort. In their comfort of happiness, the joys of their hearts , they both fell asleep. Hopefully dreaming of each other as they lay cuddled. It has always been his pleasure, cuddling her from behind.

It was late when they woke up and like all people in love they were inconsiderate of time and saw no need to rush. They began their journey back to the homestead. Short as she was, she always led and with the tall grass surrounding them, they couldn’t see far until they got to a clearing, the clearing being the pole and dagga welcome feature (what the modern now call durawall) of their homes.

They entered the compound arm in arm, swinging, (she had forgotten to remove the trousers and lipstick, a taboo in their village) only to be met by a dozen eyes staring at them, some ready to blow a gasket, some struck dump, some jaw dropped, some in amazement and some in straight forward faces that could have been the best caption for a national ID foto. A no smile, serious business type of face.

A search team had already been called for by the headman. People had gathered up from the village with their dogs, torches and anything that resembled a helping tool in the search of a rescue mission.

A kangaroo court was immediately setup to determine the fate of these two lovebirds. The headman sat on an elevated wooden log, wooden rod in his right hand, a big sun hat even though it was way after dusk. Their sitting arrangements resembled a cow horn formation with all village men on his right and women on his left. The accused sat in the middle and the verdict was unanimous.

~!~

This is how they ended up husband and wife. They didn’t plan for it. The society did.

oOo

She was responding to her grandchildren who had asked how she got married and why she was happy in their marriage as they celebrated their 48th anniversary

Joy is not in the clothes or location…. joy comes from God”

Disclaimer: Fiction. Not based on a true story but a dedication to those in true love.

The Condition

He picked up the Horizon magazine, browsed through it as he waited for his final Literature lesson. Days were flying and only a few weeks before he sits for his A’level exams. 

He smiled. Something caught his eye. He thought of trying it. What’s there to lose. Despite him being bright he had never had friends let alone a girlfriend. Some conditions let you be the laggard in everything. Some conditions doesn’t allow. Some conditions are conditional. He wished if they were seasonal than perennial or is it eternal. 

The advert came when he was doing his lower 6. He was tired of waiting. He had given up. Never cared more or less.              

I am a young man aged 18 looking for female friends aged between 16 and 18 who share a common vision regardless of condition(s). I promise to reply all letters. If interested please write to PO Box 11 Mutorashanga.

He smiled again. He was no longer 18. A year older now. A week later letters began to pour in and he ferociously replied to each and every one of them. Before long he was interested in Pelagia. She was short, curvy, round faced and dimpled. Beauty at its best, as always been the norm with short people.   The friendship was cemented and they started exchanging more photos. 

Can you find a soulmate through pen pals advert? Well to her he was handsome ‘according to the half photo she was holding’. His artistic way of writing letters just blew her mind away. He was different to the guys she had dated. To him she was simple. She said ‘I love you‘ too often and he believed it instantly. After all it’s been the first ‘I love you‘ he had answered. Correctly put its the first ‘I love you‘ he had been given. 

Upon completion of his high school, he passed with flying colours and won a scholarship to the United States. He went on to study medicine and graduated top of his class. He wrote every week for the 7 years he was in America. From hard copy letters till technology revolutionised Africa to emails then WhatsApp. 

From phoning via call boxes (telephone booth) to receiving calls at her neighbour’s landline till the coming of cellphones, from Skype videos to IMO video calls. Even Pelagia’s parents began to appreciate him as he sent money (ever increasing small rise), for her Olevels till college. It was a match made in heaven. All from a pen pals advert. 

During their Skype video calls he was so much in love that he proposed. She accepted and as norm people in love never think twice. It never clicked to them that they have never met. It was just photos of him always seated and she never saw anything unusual. She sent photos to him too. At first in longer dresses and with time the dresses became shorter revealing her drumsticks. I’m sexy and I know it type. 

When he finally landed at Harare International Airport it was 3am and she couldn’t be there to welcome him. He understood as he always does. Via Watsapp messaging they decided to meet at the local hotel where he was supposed to give a speech. Even the organisers of the event had come to know Pelagia and she was part of consultations. 

Someone had hinted to her that his man wanted to propose to her on the very night to make it official. He had sent money for her to be elegant. She was stunning in that black dress that shaped her so well that even the ladies afforded to look back when she walked past them. 

She came right on time but slightly late according to him.She was directed to his table. He was already sitted. A sly glance at him, her heart shouted ‘thank you Lord‘. Had there been dim lights she would have kissed him. His perfume did the trick. His attire resembled Mr Right. 

 As his name was announced, time for him to deliver his speech, the Doctor from United States , everyone stood to give a big applause 👏 

Pelagia stood too, trying to outdo everyone in clapping. Broad smile, she bent and gave him a kiss on his cheek. It was more of marking her territory kind of kiss. The applause was long. 

As everyone stood, He didn’t,  instead he wheeled towards the podium for the speech. Upon realisation Pelagia gave a wild screaming that was so louder than the cheering of 500 guests before she fainted. 

                            …oOo…

The real question is ‘Will she marry the man now that she has found he is disabled. Was it the reason why he always sent photos seated. Was it the condition he had spelled out in his advert that she clearly didn’t understand what it meant. Was her love conditional? With all the monies he had sent since high school till she graduated and now an accountant what will she do? The condition is real. 

Can you drop someone because he or she is disabled. 


Life through the disability lens

NB. Based on a false story. 

The love of …

“….easy like Sunday morning 🎶… ” I finished the song with a whistle as I entered Pizza Slice 🍕 food outlet in town. 

Yes it was Sunday mid morning and clad in my 3/4 shorts, they were looking at my hairy legs. But who cares, it’s a Sunday morning. Taking it easy just like the song. On a Sunday morning. I whistled again. 

I ordered my pizza. The new chicken flavored, is my favorite. Order number 82. I wondered if they had sold 81 pizzas in that morning or it was a carry over figure from yesterday. 

I decided to sit in a corner  where I could notice everyone. Psychological right. My definition of a psychologist is a guy who looks at people’s faces and reactions when a beautiful girl enters a room

It didn’t take me long to see this short lady sitting a couple of tables away.  She was well built and those are the types I would say … ok never mind me I’m here for pizza. 

She kept looking to her side. I followed her eyes and landed on this guy who was on the phone. Keys on the table. I presumed he drives an Altezza. Who cares I’m here for pizza. 

Order number 79“, the lady shouts. I counted my fingers. How many more to my order, number 82. Anyway back to the lady. I watched her as she smilingly kept looking towards this Altezza guy. As he lift his head or looks at the direction of the lady,she would look aside shyly. 

Ok, I was begging to enjoy this. Like in a tennis match I would look left and look right. Look left, look right. What’s only missing was clapping hands when one hits an ace. But there was no ace here. 

Order number 80.

Look left, look right, I continued to enjoy my match,affording to smile intermittently. Then I decided to go for an ace.  Pulled out my pen wrote a note on the back of the only paper on table. Swiftly moved towards the lady, note in hand nicely folded once. 

Order number 81

I approached her, whispered in her ear and gave her the note. I pointed to the direction of the Altezza guy. I headed for the exit with a smile on my face. I had scored an ace. As I was near the doorway I looked back and the lady was beside theAltezza  guy pointing at me. 

 Order number 82.

 👀  oops 🙊 I wrote that note at the back of the order slip. Oh dear. There is nowhere I’m going back there. I pinched myself. 

Would the lady collect my pizza after realizing what I did. Maybe she left the note on the table of the guy. Maybe he did collect it on my behalf. Or maybe I should be a gentleman enough to go back and face the guy and ask for my order number. 

Maybe I can do explain to the sales lady over the counter that the pizza do belong to me but I somehow lost my order number slip. Not so easy on a Sunday morning, right!

What a match. I ended up the loser
                            –  oOo  –         

         

NB: To the Harare Pizza Slice Management. Now that I have done a free marketing for you, may I please have my pizza 🍕 back. 😉 

The Catalyst 

In the African setup when someone has been very ill for long they are transferred to the rural areas. The living will have surrendered you and they prepare for your funeral. 

They are cutting costs as compared to transporting the dead. 

If the City is the place for all medications surely the rate of survival once you are transferred to the rural areas is next to nothing. Majority are pronounced dead on arrival. Those who made decisions to transfer you are said and viewed as the master planners. The internal for seers. The kind of genius who could tell that life is next to it’s end. 

Have you ever chauffeur driven your family to a distance of more than 200km. Majority sleep along the way. What more going to kumusha/ekhaya (rural areas).  

Ask them why they fell asleep 😴 they will tell you it’s tiresome to just sit there and watch trees going the opposite direction. 

It’s tiresome to be made to shake by the bumpy roads as you keep composure. What more someone who is sick. Someone who you are transferring to the rural areas. If the healthy arrive asleep then the sick will definitely “reach dead”. 

Picture this. When your kid is crying you put her on your back. Take a towel and secure her firmly to your back. Then you start doing those dances to no song like a mad man. Dancing to a tune only you can understand. Without the baby 👶 on your back everyone will call you mad 😡 or insane. 

The baby definitely sleeps due to this rhythmic shaking. The lullaby. That patting continuously on its butt. This has become the trend eventually. If you want the baby to sleep. By the same token transferring the ailing has become trend. 

Now unlike the baby ,the jumps and bumps of the gravel road does the patting on the whole body of the sick. More so how many people get transferred to rural   arrears on a bed, comfortable bed in this case. Is it a coincidence that ambulances have beds and belts to secure you. 


Our African setup you are either at the back seat alone or at the back of the truck. Either way you aren’t secured so those dances forced upon you by the truck will make you go to sleep. 

In this case, sleeping forever

                             〰

NB: In the event I get sick and you transfer me to my rural area, if I recover, please run 🏃 for cover 😂

Inequality 

Women always have to prove their point in life. In school if a girl is in the top 10 its always a great achievement. For boys it’s regarded as normal.

In companies to have a lady boss is regarded as a milestone for her. As gentleman as I am, I believe “To be born a woman is to win first prize in the lottery of life“.

 I surely thought by this century, men would have evolved and would have dropped this banal issue and inequality will be a thing of the past.

I was wrong. Still wrong and might eternally be wrong.
When a woman gives birth,  people sends their congrats and the sequence is always the same to those that pay visits at the hospital or do visit the newly  born at home. “Oh congratulations on your baby. Is it a boy or girl. What’s the name”?

Inequality begins at birth.
“It’s a boy, oh that’s really nice. The father will be very happy. You have cemented your place in the relationship”.

“It’s a girl, don’t worry keep trying, you will eventually get a boy. All shall be well”

Traditionally for a girl to go to school, it needed more convincing to the parents as compared to boys. For a girl to advance her education lots of questions needed answers.

Fast forward to today, In relationships, it’s easy for a husband to say “this is Yvonne or Vhuvu, she is my friend. We have known each other for days. She was talking about her husband going on holiday. She invited us, we are joining them”, he chronicles.

All she(wife) has to do is nod her head in unison.

Reverse the situation. Can or may a wife come home to say “daddy this is my friend Beaton. We are workmates. They are going on holiday with his wife and we have been invited. We are joining them. Will be drinking lots of coffee together”.

There will be a funeral, either for the male friend or his wife, if not both.

Even on phones, men prefer doing settings on their wife’s or galfriends phones. Going through the phone books and chat history. Nothing wrong with themselves,so they say. If the wife does the same, its a different ball game.

Girls have even imitated the wearing of trousers to equal men. Some men still have problems with that. I wonder if there are women who have a problem with men wearing a skirt.

But then again. Some men have gone to behave like Susan. Painting nails and “swinging”, is it still in the name of equality? 

Now, I’m confused.

Equality
Very soon food will be equated

The Apple … continued

image

Snippets from part 1

The two let go each other, and stared at the current husband.

I’m still wondering who the wife stood next to or even who she sat next to. I really don’t know what happened next.

What I know for sure is the two gentleman are wondering who got the first call amongst them. A conundrum

 

…. continued … from part 1

They all couldn’t stand the silence so the husband decided to speak first,  but he too doubted the outcome of his thoughts and arguments.

“Excuse me nurse”, he finally said to a passing nurse.

“I have a question, not medically related but something I need your opinion on”,
Would you go back to your ex hubby in the name of reconciliation if he extended a hand to you?

Faces around went white, as white as the nurse’s uniform , scarlet if we may describe it, in other words. The nurse was shocked too. Nurses, in general, are more prepared to answer questions relating to someone’s health or giving directions to lost patients

“No, i wouldn’t. I got lots of pride and wouldn’t stoop so low.  Never ever. Mwana wani iyeye nguva yaakatambisa. No. Nix. Bodo ndaramba.” she declared rather than answered

“Excuse me Sis’er, let me ask what you normally encounter in your day to day livelihood,  if a child gets sick is it right to let the father of the child know?” Asked Shaddy the father of the child, not willing to be outdone as he was fast trading on soft ground

“Yes of course what’s wrong with that because …
“Sorry to inject you nurse but even if the parents are separated is it still the duty of the father know the condition of his child.”

“Of cause the father has the right to his child, regardless of the situation” answered Matilda, as prescribed on the badge slightly above her breast on her ‘once’ white uniform.

She quickly walked away fearing her answers might be used as bait and diving into waters that might be too shallow to swim.

To the 3 seated on the bench, regardless of their sitting arrangements, issue is, The nurse scored for both sides. Scored for both teams. Scored for both opponents.

Question is. Would you go back to your ex? Some say ex is short for example

Question is, does the mother has a right to call the child’s father even midnight regardless that they are now divorced. How will her (the current) husband take it. How will the recipient’s wife take it?

Decision making is a gift and it’s not everyone who is gifted. To those who turned back for reconciliation and things didn’t work out, you too by now know they have no kind words. It suffer continue

To those who heeded the call for reconciliation and things turned out best, they walk with a spring in their step. Right move. Right decision. Life is good. Second thoughts are the best, right?

Let me get back to the trio on the bench and find out how the drama unfolded.

 

The End is near

What is Love. Part 1

“Excuse me,  do you know where I can find  Barbours Departmental store?”

He swang around. Instead of answering he spent his time admiring what was in front of him. She scared the daylights out of him

“Oh yes , yah, yes” he found himself saying.

Wat are you saying, she asked in astonishment. ?

“I mean Barbours is just around the corner,  along First Street, you wouldn’t miss it. But may I please have your number”. He finished the sentence in a half shout, as she had walked away. “I’m James by the way,” he shouted

She looked back , tilted her head downwards so as to look from the top of her sunshades with that smile  expression of “loser” written all over her face.

She was swinging, black mini skirt, so short that even women turned around to admire the great feature behind her.  High heals and dangling car keys, Merc keys. She had an 8 figure shaped body. Her eyes made men shy away. She had dimples.
All that he could do was swallow saliva, as he couldn’t even blink. Neither could he walk. Even though he swallowed, nothing went down. The throat was dry.

                          * * *
“Will all those going to Mutorashanga please board, this is the last kombi (commuter omnibus ) for the day”.

“Driver my money is tallying, please stop the bus. Vabereki someone didn’t pay me”, shouted the conductor

“It’s me who didn’t pay”, said a soft frail voice on the front seat. She looked as though she was sick and her mind wasn’t anywhere nearby.

Everyone stared at her.
“Do I know you? Have we met before?”, asked the driver. She raised her face to meet the eyes of the driver

“Ah I remember you. The girl I directed to Barbours, black mini skirt , Merc keys in hand, you remember me, It’s James. “What happened to the Merc and all that glamour?”

“Conductor don’t worry she is staff. No need for her to pay”.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She sobbed. The place she was hearding isn’t the kindof place where people give you a tissue to wipe your tears. They all expect to use your palms.

“It all began 2months ago…”, she began

“Tafara 1 bus stop”, I shouted as I saw my drop off point, as she began her story, I too was curious to know what transpired to this former great cat walker

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                                …….. to be continued

But … why???

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Women come in all shapes and sizes. There are the pencil slim, who have since found their way into modelling. I still think if it blows a little heavier some might easily be blown away. They are good in modelling though in the real world fuller women take center stage for attraction.

Then there are the abnormal load one. You know the giant popeye after eating spinach look alike. Big at the top and slim as you go down.  We used to call these the improper fraction.

There comes the isosceles triangle. Small at the top and huge at the base. These are plenty and outnumber the slim ones or the improper fraction ones.

Im not sure is 8 is a digit or shape,  but these are the crowd pullers. Whenever they walk,  majority look back. Even women look back and I’m yet to find out why women look back  at other women. Clothes suit them. Better if they are short. Portable size. From shoe size to dress or skirt. It’s all equal proportions.

Even in a mini its a marvel to watch. Music to the eyes. I wish I could put photos here. That would put me in hospital at a faster rate though.  These people, forget the good shape, they got temper. Dynamites  come in small packages and its true of them.

Finally we got those who look like a sterilised milk bottle. Or an orange crush bottle. If 8 is not a shape then we have to agree that round is a shape. They are so round that when they trip over they just roll forward.

With such fine women of our generation that make the human flowers of our day to day life, one will never get enough superlatives to describe them. They are a marvel to watch regardless of shape and size.

Then you hear someone saying he is Gay.

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Honest men marry soon, wise men …

What is the right age to marry. Would you want a scenario whereby you visit your kid at school on consultation day and the students or teachers call your son and say your grandfather is here to see you?

But again that is if you had married in the first place. Majority of guys have resorted to buying an Altezza Audi or BMW rather than marry. I don’t blame them. Choices do differ, so are priorities.  So they say

What does the Bible say

Genesis 2:18
And the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him.”

So where are my fellow brothers missing it. It’s clearly written. This is the generation that is so clever at defending what’s wrong than whats right. The blame-game-generation. Its never wrong on their life. Someone has to take the bullet for them. (focus is on guys for now. Next article on girls, but the article has to be clearly worded as most girls listen to reply rather than listen to understand)

The bible didn’t just stop there. It went on to say

Proverbs 18:22
He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtain favour from the LORD”.

“Awana mukadzi awana chinhu chakanaka” in my local translation. For the world is so full of beauty and honestly one can’t give an excuse of not finding the perfect one. After all why go for perfect. Perfect what you get.
  
Go yee therefore and marry. Go and find your good thing as it is not good to be alone.

Hold on. It’s not all of us who read the bible. Not everyone is a Christian

Honest men marry soon, Wise men not at all. I rest my case

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The Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Do you take this girl to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in this holy state of matrimony;  to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part”.

He cleared his throat as though in doubt then softly said “I do“, it came as a whisper. Was it stage fright or tell tale signs?

“If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

“By the powers vested in me under the constitution as your marriage officer I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now …..”

Fast forward to 5years,  the two love birds nolonger see eye to eye. The guy was about to remarry and the wife was said to have relocated to Mozambique. They had 2 sons. The contentious issue was custody. As always.

Divorce is never a way to settle scores and now that he is marrying again, this spells the end to mother’s love for the children. Not that the incoming mother is bad but the moment parents seperate so many blame games come to play.

How does a wife treat a scenario whereby the mother of the kids(ex wife) pays a visit to see her two sons (as enshrined by the law), seeing the 2 former talking and possibly sharing a joke?

How does the husband feel when her ex (former husband) visit the kids. As you grab your newspaper and sit outside trying not to listen or be bothered by the two in the lounge, you hear them sharing jokes and clearly enjoying themselves.

Does love really disappear for and or from someone you share kids with. When the kid falls sick you need to contact the father (in this case Ex hubby) and he comes rushing.

So, they met again at the hospital. After the doctor had explained the condition it was nothing “really” serious. They strolled out of the ward towards the visitors bench. As they sat, nothing to talk about except weather and bar talk

“You gave gained weight, seems things are pretty well your side hey?” was his opening line

For the first time that night she smiled, turned to look him in the eye and responded “you don’t look too bad yourself, though that shirt would have done better with a blue tie”

“Oh really, you are still fashion conscious, I have since stopped being particular of what I wear” he said

“Why isn’t she taking good care of you”, it came as an attack than a question. The two just looked at each other just as the Doctor appeared. They all stood up.

“I have good news”, “and bad news”, said Doctor Ethan, (in an accent), making sure the words sink. His face showed no signs of either news and he seems to enjoy delivering such news. (I’m sure doctors practise this or is it practice )

“Start with the bad news, get on with it Doc, I hardly can’t contain it anymore”;

“Bad news is we going to hospitalise the boy for 2 days”, he paused as though still going on. “Good news is the operation was successful and no complications”

The two former lovebirds turned and hugged each other in celebration, a hug of relief, a hug of comforting each other, a hug that was too close for comfort. They never saw the Doctor walk away and neither did either of them see the husband arrive.

He coughed once, then coughed again twice, a little louder this time, in annoyance, to gain attention with just a hint of melancholy on his face.

The two let go each other, and stared at the current husband.

I’m still wondering who the wife stood next to or even who she sat next to. I really don’t know what happened next.

What I know for sure is the two gentleman are wondering who got the first call amongst them. A conundrum

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To be continued..

Is it worth it

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The pain that people go through in relationships,  and the bearing it has on the children is painful.

Just this Saturday I saw a mother ,  baby on her back and a heavy bag in hand. She was crying, in the middle of town. I lept out of the car wanting to find out why. (Being the gentleman that I am)

I discovered the man, a few paces in front was her husband. He was fuming, shouting the unprintable. He couldn’t even be man enough to carry what looked like a heavy bag from his wife. Honestly men need to be reasonable at times. (Yes I just said that).

As I followed I tried to pick up the conversation, why she was crying, why he was fuming and why go through all this in town. In the middle of the city, of all the places. Why would the husband has the ego to chastise her in the middle of the city.

In the mean time I tried to play detective and avoid detection as I might be labelled a thief and the plot would have suddenly changed. Tried not to be labelled a stalker too.

For closer to a kilometre I was in persuit. What I gathered, was the man was saying he is fed up because the wife isn’t obeying him. The wife was trying in vain to be given another chance. In her defence she mentioned that for all these years she has natured him and now that he has been promoted he nolonger sees her as useful. I’m sure she felt used, stamped upon. Walked over. Melancholy.

She mentioned something to do with the guy’s behaviour when he is drunk. How he is abusive when he comes home drunk, more days a week than not.

Two things define you. Your patience when you have nothing, and your attitude when you have everything

The 4 of us arrived at the bus terminus downtown as they headed for busses going to Kuwadzana. I stopped and realised how men can be so mean. I didn’t have kind words for this guy. How could he. Is this what women are going through in their respective homes. Is it worth it?

He couldn’t even have the courtesy of carrying the bag.

Hang on, I trailed these people for a kilometre and me too, I couldn’t offer to carry the bag.

I’m no different.

NB. Based on a False story

“I’m sexy and i know it”

I need to change my dress first before we go braiing“, said Tsuwie as she drove into her apartment garage.

Come in and have a drink as I change“, she said in a faded shout as she slid into her bedroom whilst I made myself comfortable in her couch.

The apartment was neatly furnished, signs that she was earning a decent living. We have been friends for a few weeks and just like that, we clicked and gelled very well.

Turn on some music, as I have decided to bath first“, she shouted. I grabbed the remote and turn on the home theatre.

Take your time, there is no rush in Africa. Moreso we are 2 hours ahead of London why rush” , I responded with some assuring boldness even though to be honest we were already late. Damn. Effects of not owning a car. I reminded myself.

[Chorus]
Have you ever loved somebody so much
It makes you cry
Have you ever needed something so bad
You can’t sleep at night
Have you ever tried to find the words
But they don’t come out right
Have you ever, have you ever


Umm nice music i thought to myself as i drummed my fingers on the armrest. Was already getting comfortable. Typical African in me.

Next on the playlist was “Heaven Sent”, by Keisha Cole

[CHORUS:]
I wanna be the one who you believe
In your heart is sent from (sent from heaven)
There’s a piece of me who leaves when you gone
Because you’re sent from (sent from heaven)

as she appeared on the doorway in a black and yellow stunning dress that shaped her body. She looked like she was born with it. I wonder if this was a trap, of music I mean.
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She was elegant, intuitive, spontaneous and it didn’t help matters that she is short. Her body in that dress was like an hourglass. She really honesty and truly has curves.

Her eyes were suggestive, shy and her matching shoes told a story that she was fashion conscious.

Don’t just sit there“, said Tsuwie, “I’m sexy and I know it“, and this time her voice matched her dress. I felt numb. The voice was music to my ears. Dynamites really come in small packages.

She took steps towards me, all I could do was admire her. She stopped a few centimetres from me… My lips parted.

I heard a sound and ignored it. Whatever it is it has to wait. It is my time to be sent to heaven in ecstasy.

Then I woke up.

The sound had grown louder as it was my alarm ringing. Time to wake up. Damn.