Category: perception

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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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 Part 2

Care to read Part 1 here

Continued …

It was exactly 2 years after the tragic death of my son, some unruly over-speeding guy who knocked off my son and he died on the spot. The police blamed me for negligence. I blamed the council for not putting speed humps on the road and more directly the driver for a speed too much in a residential area. 

As I came out of the shops I saw kids laughing and pointing to a corner. Curiosity got the best of me. I went there only to discover that there was a child being mocked and bullied. People shouted at her. Moreso nobody wanted to touch him. I asked for the parents and was directed to a house in the middle of the neighborhood. 

The mother of the child was in a temper. Step mom to be exact. She didn’t want to hear anything to do with the kid. I offered to take care of the kid for her, after narrating my odeal. She looked stern then smiled. A deal was sealed. 

The rumor mill began circulating again. How on earth could I adopt a child. Everyone called me cursed. Moreso with the condition of the child, everyone felt it was taboo to have such a child. It was unheard off. An abomination in this part of the world. If only they knew better. Muhammad Ali once said “Hating people because of their color is wrong. And it doesn’t matter which color does the hating. It’s just plain wrong.”

I took great care of my newly adopted son like he was my own. He was now my own. His relatives had denied him. They had cast him away. My teachings tells me that “Our true nationality is mankind”

Enrolling him into school was a nightmare. The headmaster only agreed after reaching an agreement that he would sit on his own desk. 

If I thought raising a child out of wedlock was a nightmare then try raising a child who has been condemned by the society. It didn’t help matters as I too, was condemned by the same society for promiscuity, giving birth at 17 to what I still boldly declare was out of love than anything else. 

My begging routine increased. I did all the work that was available to cloth this boy. To feed him and to educate him. He is one boy who had a hobo of nicknames. When he came home one day looking pale, I was worried. After he had told me that he fancied a girl and proposed to her but was rejected because of his condition I felt a lump on my throat. I was angry. 

He never did sports at school. I remember too well that when he was a soccer team goalkeeper the other schools boycotted the match altogether unless if he was removed from the team. His only ability that no one could dispute was his intelligence. He always excelled in school and thus earned him a few friends. Friends at school only, all because he had left for Harvard where he graduated with a degree in Medicine. 

It was only 8 years later when he came back treating an outbreak disease. The disease had wiped out homes and continued to do so. After a lengthy telephone conversation he had sort donations from #CDC and #WHO, he led the team of doctors to eradicate the disease. He chose his home area first since it was marginalized. 

As people waited in the hall for the Doctors from America to arrive and cure their kids, people were chatting noisily and some trying to out do others in speaking. The first 5 doctors walked in and people applauded, then he walked in last and there was stone silence. Everyone couldn’t believe their eyes, others mouth opened, others half smiling and some frozen half way when they clapped. 

“But he is an Albino”, the elderly gentleman pointed to him with his cane. “Our society does not allow Albinos, that’s why we have too much rains. It’s taboo. It’s a tell tale sign”

Sensing tension the Health minister said “I present to you one of the best doctors the country has ever produced, your own kinsman and the leader of the team. Please let’s not be racist and give him a round of applause”

His opening remark was simple but loaded with message. “Mindsets play strange tricks on us,” he said. “We see things the way our minds have instructed our eyes to see…

At the corner of the Hall I just thought to myself “It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.”

No human race is superior; no religious faith is inferior. All collective judgments are wrong. Only racists make them

                                                   oOo

NB. Written in solidarity with Albinos world over who are subjected by their society. 

*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 

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 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

image

                                …….. 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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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..

Love at first sight

“I don’t believe in love at first sight. It lacks hindsight,  its lust. No such thing exists and its failure of judgement. One needs to think straight and learn to study the person before you even think of believing in love”.

“How can you love someone before you even know the person. This is what we used to call in primary school ‘it can’t’, when asked by the maths teacher 2 – 3. Its just impossible and will implode in the so near future”.

“It would be mainly out of greed rather than anything  else. To me its more of lust than love”.

These are some of the various reaponses i got from asking a number of people, unfortunately women. Fortunately all guys i asked they said they believe in love at first sight. Can you blame them.

My own version.
I do believe in love at first sight. It is that magnetic instant feeling you have when you first saw him/her. That sudden blood rush, adrenaline pumping. That caricature at the back of your mind.

That instant feeling that makes you rehearse your opening line. Your most precious opening statement. As most guys believe “if you make her laugh you halfway through”.

Im not quite sure if you can lust for something you don’t like. “Friendship at first sight, like love at first sight, is said to be the only truth” – Herman Melville

Example 1
As she pushed her trolley in the supermarket, he prepared his opening line very well.
.
.
“So what do you do?”
She was a Markerting  Executive at this top telecomms company. He said he was a student. He didn’t waste time to say how he felt for her.
Loser the girl thought to herself
Jackpot the guy thought to himself

Example 2
As she pushed her trolley in the supermarket, he prepared his opening line very well.
.
.
“So what do you do?”
He was a Manager at a local hotel. She said she is a student. He didn’t waste time to say how he felt for her.
Jackpot thought the girl to herself
‘Chinamira’ – gold digger thought the guy to himself

Example 3
As she pushed her trolley in the supermarket, he prepared his opening line very well.
.
.
“So what do you do?”
He said he doesn’t work and she said she too was home. Job hunting.He didn’t waste time to say how he felt for her.
I love you too she thought to herself

She picked up the Sunday Mail only to discover that he is infact CEO of a listed company.

The 3 examples best illustrate my answer. They are all the same but with different outcomes. Love is what you feel first time when you are approached. First impressions last. The other examples’ outcomes were determined after the so called “knowing you first”. No one believes in Love at first sight, until that special person comes along and steals your heart.

In conclusion “The only true love is love at first sight, second sight dispels it”, or if you don’t believe in love at first sight, should I walk again

If this was an exam
Do you believe in Love At First Sight [25] marks
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Beauty Reloaded

It’s a Man’s Fault – (IMF)

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The way men have been criticised, scrutinised and knocked left, right and centre makes me wonder.

Are there no gentlemen left in this world? Most blogs, unfortunately by girls, single mothers and devorced (experienced but masters of none), they have gone to the extremes of painting all guys by the same brush.

Tongai Moyo (MHSRIP) once sang :-

Taneta kutukwa kuti varume imbwa
Ndiani akamboona imbwa ichidanana nembudzi
Imbwa inodanana neimbwa

I think it takes two. At times, if not most of the times we should be blaming our choices not men in general. Are we not setting the bar too high. How come the guys that are dumped goes on to marry and the girls married are all smiles. On the other hand the girls dumped or dumper goes on to say the unprintable about the same guy, no kind words and no remorse.

I often joke with this beauty friend of mine(who i now call Prophetess, because of her fake prophesy that all guys are the same). She is gorgeous and i tease her that because of her beauty guys shy away. I tease her that because she is beautiful she will find it tough to marry. Why, because of perception by guys. Another prophesy maybe (Musikana akanaka anonetsa theory )

Are there no happily married women who are bloggers. What do they blog about. Do they attack men as we often see from girls. Or, “If you’ve struck gold, why go in search of brass”.

But again look closely at those casting the first stone. Are they married? Are they in a happy steady relationship. How then do those who aren’t married advise those who are married on how to keep a family?

Ok, nowadays there are professional courses, so let’s give them benefit of a doubt that they studied the subject. Well versed theoretically not practically.

That may well be the case, I believe generalisation is wrong in every context. Your enemy isn’t everyone’s enemy. Your woes are not everyone’s woes. Not all girls are finding it tough. Some are striking gold whilst others play the blaming game.

The Registrar General’s office every year they have stats of marriage certificates being stamped. Is it those cases of Adam and Steve, i doubt, we as Zim are yet to offer that, I’m sure. So that means there are some men out there who are loyal, some men out there who have gone the extra mile from just being a man to husband, some men out there who are capable of treating women in a better way.

Where are these men? Majority of women hate guys because in their dating world they failed to last the distance to marriage. Even the way they comment it’s all the “f” word. Does it mean the language is also from men.

Don’t we have girls who adore their fathers (for the good that they have done). Don’t we have men who adore their daughters ( for they are the perfect examples of great Dad). So are these men also being painted in the same bracket, by the same brush if not by the same hand.

Even though I acknowledge that there are some abusive husbands, abusive boyfriends, on the contrary there are also a darling number of guys, boyfriends, husbands out there. Are there no abusive, cheating women out there?

As always It’s a Man’s Fault. Stop It.

On behalf of the Real Man.

The Last Gentleman standing.