Monday, August 25, 2014

Goodbye 28

Happy Birthday girl ...
I walked into 28 with a list of demands, threats and promises

I wanted everything and more

I was not taking NO for an answer

I was pissed off for living half-hearted and shying away from what I wanted

This was going to be the year I demanded everything and more

28 was going to be my redemption, my payback from life

28 owed me and I was collecting

Beautiful 28

When I demanded “28 deliver the love I deserve “

She arrogantly tossed her hair and smiled back

“You are going to have to learn to love yourself first “

I had been there and done that

Heck I was the self-professed Queen of affirmations

But 28 stripped me of the lies I thought where love

Took away the false image I had of myself

Stripped me to an emotional nakedness and told me

“You will stand alone and this year you WILL learn to love yourself “

The beginning

When I shouted,” 28 this year all my dreams MUST come true”

She laughed in my face and with one eyebrow raised said

“Your dreams are answers to the needs of others, answer those and you will have it all”

How could helping someone else, waking up at odd hours plagued by the plight of someone else be the promise?

How did that translate to me having all my dreams come true?

When I took a leap to leave everything and centre my life on that

My dreams came true and with them the answer my spirit longed for

This was the purpose and passion translating into the dream

The Dream

When I stood on top of my emotional mountain and demanded,” 28 I deserve a good love, a strong love, a committed love .I deserve a good man “

She rolled her eyes at me and asked,” Are you everything that you are demanding from a man?”

She turned the tables on me and questioned my intentions for wanting a significant other

She stripped bare my intentions to show how shallow and out of touch I was with love

She showed me that what I thought I had given in the past as love was nothing

Nothing but me losing myself in a bid to become what I thought was needed of me

 The person I was had to become what was needed of me

She showed me behaviour I had enabled in past relationships

Then she asked me, “Would you have married him, him or him?”

Then I realized I wouldn’t have married none of them

She told me,” Now begin to become what you demand of the man in your life “

Becoming what I desire most

I told 28,” Promise me this year my heart won’t break “

She told me,” This year your spirit will break until you become dependent on GOD more than anyone“

In truth I broke and began to live for more than myself

I began to feel stretched when I didn’t want to be stretched

I began to be pushed to patience and forgiveness when I didn’t feel I was to blame

My spirit let go of who I thought I was and became GOD’s

Spotlights where brightly turned on, on how empty I was spiritually

How I often judged others when I was doing the exact same thing

Seeds of the fruit of the Spirit where planted in me

As GOD pruned and cut and showed me how to grow

In those moments repentance and conviction hit me

My spirit broke
Broken to be made whole


With big puppy dog eyes I begged, “Please let me become a better person “

She hugged me and smiled, “You are already on your way to that “

In seasons of heartache my smile came from my heart

In seasons of bareness my refuge became real and I became whole

In seasons of emptiness GOD reminded me that what I needed I already had

In seasons of wanting more I remembered that it all came with responsibility

When I cast an envious eye on the lives of others I remembered

The script is always different, my script is what I am living now

Living the script


As we sit 28 and I , bittersweet, wishing I could stay here a little longer

This felt right, this felt real, and this felt like the life I should live

I am scared of what lies ahead

I don’t know if I will grow or regress into what I was

She whispers to,” It’s going to get even better “

I wish I could be as confident as she is

I wish I could be jumping up and down with glee

With hands held we whisper

“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters wherever you may call me “

Goodbye 28 ~ you have been more than good to me ……
My prayer .....




Tuesday, August 5, 2014

These are MY CURVES I am what they say I am

Welcome to the club

Welcome to the world of the blessed and cursed life of the owner of curves. It takes a special kind of woman to own them, embrace them and love them. I have met many such women , way before the "curvy was in revolution" when we had no socially acceptable words like curvy , well endowed , curvaceous or plus size .  When the only word that described us was FAT meaning overweight, lumpy and excessively heavy. Now we are curvy, plus size, healthy and leading a love revolution. However we still stand blessed and cursed.

Welcome to the Curvy Revolution

For as long as I can remember it has been called upon for young black women to cover up. Now covering up when demanded by our parents I assume was a safety net for their budding adolescent daughter who has no idea how much havoc her pre-teen developing curves cause riot on the streets of life. It’s with wonder, excitement and fear that as a woman grows she discovers just how much arsenal her body carries. Some parts you will grow to love and some you will loathe. From not giving a damn about the shell that carried your spirit for 10 years it suddenly becomes this thing – this body that seems to have a mind of its own and with the curves and hips we usher in a whole new world.
Like any other humble – cover your body good girl that I am, I spent at least 4 years of my pre-teen life covering everything up. Me and this body where enemies. I wanted to blend into the walls like the wall flower I wanted to be but it had other ideas. Breasts, hips and a butt grew out of nowhere. Suddenly I couldn’t go and buy bread, tomatoes or vegetables in peace. The moment I got to the local shops you could swear somebody rang a bell and every man within a 5km radius thought it their prerogative to stare. How dear men that leering, glazed eye stare is the scariest thing you can ever expose a teenage girl to, it’s like a hungry dog looking at a juicy piece of steak. 

You can look but don't stare ...

Of course I grew through it and as I loathed my body more and learnt to hide it well in baggy skirts and over sized t-shirts, I learnt to embrace it. Suddenly pencil skirts and A-line dresses became my favorite friend and I realized that I owned something other women wanted – CURVES. Now curves are a dangerous, beautiful, pain the neck thing to own. They dictate your life. They determine what you wear, what sports you participate it,you can't decide to just break into a sprint whenever you like , the places you may or may not attend and they make you feel like you are being judged by everyone who walks past you. Lo and behold I think they breed eternal fear in your parents and if not addressed well you come across a lot of curvy teenagers with very low self-esteem. While trying to understand them you realize they have a very loud voice of their own that has people labeling and judging you. That is until you meet someone that loves them.

So they say ...

Until well after my 20’s I cursed Mother Nature, my genes and every heavenly being I could think of for giving me these things. Why couldn’t I be thin and rake like? Why did I have to whisper my bra size to shop attendants when I was out shopping? Why did I have to pay an arm , leg and whole cow for a decent well supporting bra?  Why did I have to buy pass the cool clothes for a size bigger clothes? Why did I have to walk very fast when I passed a group of boys because this body just drew attention to me? So suddenly I became this angry “I hate shopping girl “. I was content with this role until I met my first boyfriend in college. My bubbly, colorful personality plus monthly studies of Cosmopolitan helped, in college I was loud, fun and a better dresser than my teenage years. When I first met Mr College # 1 I was struck but how ridiculously handsome this boy was plus he was a gym maniac and the muscles on him had this younger me in hysterics. The day he asked out for a cup of coffee is the day my perception of my curves changed.

Learning to dress those curves

Now any girl will tell you we suspiciously eye any guy who shows interest though deep down we are dying for you to say something. So we are hostile and cheeky just because we like you. The more pronounced this behavior the more we like you. So I often argued with Mr College #1 but the day he told me he thought I was beautiful silenced me. At first I laughed and pointed out how chubby I was and often resembled a baby hippo. He let me ramble on then silenced me and began to explain that my curves where my silent voice to the world. I sat in silence for 30 minutes as he spoke of the way he saw my curves and more so how borderline obsessed he was with them. From that moment I changed. I held my head high, I walked with pride and I fell in love with my body. My dressing changed, my confidence levels shot through the roof all based on a 30 minute conversation that had me dating Mr College #1 at the end of it.

*le blissful sigh *

You see it takes a special kind of man or to introduce you to yourself .To flip the mirror and show you how the world sees you. I am an eternal feminist but on this one I give it to the brothers, they win hands down on this skill. Bless your cotton socks if he is poetic because then my darling he just weaves word into a kind of magic that will paint a new picture and introduce your curves to you. For the duration of our relationship Mr College #1 never stopped telling me how much he appreciated my body and the soul it carried , he never stopped boosting my confidence in outfit choices and slowly but surely I got rid of my over-sized clothing and began to dress like the woman I had become.

The brother asked a question .....

 I have dated over the past decade and bless some of them have never been poetic or good with words but on days that I pinch and scowl at my reflection in the mirror I remember Mr College #1’s smile as I sashayed down the passage or when we walked past other guys and he firmly placed his hand around my waist or when he held my hand and told me I was beautiful .That same confidence bubbles to the top and sister girl walks like the world is her runway. As I accepted my curves I met guys who joined my fan club, “The we LOVE THOSE CURVES “club. With threats of breakups if I lost a few kilos or shrunk is size I have become that girl that laughs and proudly love this body.

You may never meet a Mr College #1 like I did and you maybe way past you pre-teens and still not love your body let me let into a simple secret , the day you love that body something amazing happens. You blossom and you bloom and when a guy checks you out – you blatantly stare back with a knowing look that says “Yes these are my curves I am what they say I am. If I was you trust me boo I would be checking them out too “

Love those curves and they will love you back

Long live curvy girls and the brothers that love them .You stay winning any day and every day. You have birthed a breed of confident women that are not dictated by their size. 

Friday, January 24, 2014

After 11 years it’s time for the curtain call

Time for the curtain call....

In the past few weeks I have been quizzed, interrogated and questioned at length on why I have chosen to pack up my bags and move back to Zimbabwe. There has been disbelief and queries of how I will survive after living in South Africa for so long .However what most of these people do not realize is that the fat lady has sung and it’s time for the curtain call.

The truth is that the diaspora is a beautiful and ugly place. It will entice you , love you , use you , make you question so much , allow you to grow and bring you into yourself . Moving to a new country with not very many people to depend on taught me to be tough and the few nights I slept with very little in my stomach strengthened my resolve to be a successful diasporan.  I remember moving in with a girl I met in church, into a 2 bedroom flat with 8 people .It was in Yeoville .The glasses were shattered and the main door would not close. I remember thinking if my mother ever saw this place she would demand I pack up and move back home .However being the child of the high road I stuck it out. Lesson number one, you will grow or die.

The diaspora taught me to dream. As I sat in early morning traffic on my way to work in Sandton , I would often dream of these fancy places , the homes and beautifully made up women and wonder what it was like to live that well. I remember hearing one lady describe Fourways and from that day I decided I wanted to live in Fourways. A dream was born, it seems fickle but the thought of my own space in a townhouse seemed far-fetched but lesson number two was in session. If you hold onto a dream it will come to pass and true to form I lived in Fourways , in Lonehill for two years.
I often thought fitting into the South African society would be easy. Of course the Zimbabwean community is large but almost divided in tiers. South Africa taught me I was a foreigner / kwere kwere.Being light skinned I would often pass for Sotho or Xhosa but the language barrier would often reveal my status as a Zimbabwean. At first it was not an issue then I decided to make a life of myself. When I tried to apply to study they requested 10% deposit because I was a foreigner. When I tried to buy furniture they requested a 20% deposit because I was a foreigner. Roadblocks and walls came up when I proudly produced my green passport with a valid permit. I would apply for jobs and qualify until they asked if I was South African upon my answer ,”No”, they would politely  tell me they could not hire me.  I remember crying on the phone to my mother about how unfair this all was and that is when the diaspora had taught me my third lesson – you are a foreigner .Kusina amai hakuendwi.

In the midst of doors shutting and feeling gloomy I found GOD. My relationship with GOD became very real. HE became a provider .HE became a healer. HE became a friend.  My faith matured and in the midst of the worst situation I would be found on my knees in prayer. When my fridge was empty , you bet I would be on my knees , when I was sick and had no one to look after me I would be on my knees. I survived a chickenpox outbreak with nothing but GOD and calamine lotion. I survived two accidents that could have taken my life but GOD was faithful. In my life to this day GOD is GOD, through the storms and the fire and life, HE has remained the constant.  The diaspora taught me to pray and start a relationship with GOD.

My biggest regret is the sleepless nights I gave my mother as she worried about my well-being. Of course people believe in the land of no rules and you being the king of your castle life is easier. For some maybe but for me my mother has always been my rock. So when I felt down or sad I would phone her and she being the tough cookie that she is , she would often encourage me to be strong but in her voice I would hear the worry. When the xenophobia attacks began I was lucky to be very far from the affected areas but my mother would call daily and ask if I got home safe .When I was sick my mother would call every day to find out if I had taken medication. When I was in the accidents she would call every few hours to ask about the pain and if I felt better. When I cried about my problems and being bullied at work she would read me bible verses.  The diaspora taught me that my mother’s love was enough band aid, painkillers and warmth to get me through anything.

It was not all doom and gloom ,that lesson in dreams birthed Pearls, Heels n Dreams. I would often admire the work other young people where doing via social media and I would want to do something .Then the dream began and was birthed. Through this dream I made amazing friends, met wonderful people and created relationships that feed me to this day. The diaspora taught me that it was about how much I wanted it and how hard I was willing to work for it.It taught me to innovate and step out of my comfort zone. It taught me that a dream is enough to propel you forward.

I learnt to hold onto my morals. It’s easy to get caught up in wanting the next best car or weave or clothes. The thing about your desires in the diaspora is that there is always someone willing to bankroll them, for a price. If you are willing to trade off with the devil then you must be willing to pay the price. I saw a lot of young women lose their dignity and freedom because of this. Offers are made but your morals can be the only thing that keeps you from wanting it all. The diaspora taught me that who I am is not defined by what I have.

I missed out on family celebrations, achievements and the little things. I cannot make up for the time lost but I look forward to other things. Opening the gate when my mother comes home from work , laughing and chatting with my sisters , sitting in the sunshine with my granny as she explains something to me , attending HIFA and going to the Book CafĂ© , making time for friends and most importantly growing this beautiful dream called Pearls ,Heels ‘n’ Dreams.

So after 11 years allow me to step out of my comfort zone and begin a new chapter. The lessons I have learnt are endless but as I look back I realize I am stronger, wiser and have grown into a better person. As I pack my bags and sell my furniture I’ve been asked about the friends I leave behind and the relationships I have made .I may miss them and I will cherish them but growth means moving and as the curtain closes on this chapter , I bid the diaspora farewell. After 11 years the fat lady has sung and with my one way ticket in hand, it’s time.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Ride or Die

Now this is not a rant or me man bashing anybody. This is to all those brothers playing good women and treating them like fools. Yes I’m talking to you Mr Mood Swings, Mr I’m Going through stuff, Mr I need a break, Mr I’m dealing with stuff and Mr I put a wall up when I’m not ok .Can all you fools convene a meeting and hear me loud and clear .Stop with this nonsenses and stop making good women jump through cartwheels to make you happy. Dammit! Stop messing up good women and playing with their emotions till they are so messed up they can’t love right and they think you are the best there is.Wake up call the angels do not break out in song when you speak .You are a douche bag !!!

Welcome to reality

I know good women like great women. Women who have gone hard in their careers , who love GOD , are passionate ,heck they can do all sorts of amazing things behind closed doors , they are beautiful creatures , full of confidence and everything any man would find appealing. I mean the proof is in the number of suitors they often get. Now all is well and good until they meet the douche bags I have mentioned above. As a woman I know how some women love. We love hard, we give it 100%, we spare no expense to see you become the best you can be, we pray for you, we cook for you and we give all we have to prove we are in this for the long haul. We are the ride, end up in jail and die for your ass kind of women. Now when your man is going through stuff it hurts you I mean to say it better in Shona “zvinokushungurudza mumoyo kukushayisa hope “ .This is the human being you have said you will stick by till the bitter end so even if your own family needs something they can wait because your boo is in a bad space.

When I am your woman , you will know it , feel it and never doubt it

We are often prescribed behaviour of what makes a good woman .Let me share mine that I have heard and been often told I should become:

·         Be supportive (if he wants to fly to the moon mira naye)

·         Be patient ( he may not be Mr Perfect stand naye )

·         Be loving

·         Give him his space

·         Pray for him

·         Stand by him (through everything like EVERTHING if his favourite football team loses mariro chemawo)

·         Allow him to make the decisions (no matter how Miss Independent you are bite your tongue)

·         Be a good cook (Gordon Ramsey plus Tete vako’s mabhonzo ne sadza nemuriwo wenyemba)

·         Be amazing in bed (Karma Sutra meets chikapa meets porn star)

·         Keep fit and look fine (perpetual diets)

·         Commit him to GOD in his plans

·         Want him around but don’t be needy (baffles me to this day how to do this )

Now I have often heard these when I’m with my girls, from older women and at bridal showers. Funny enough I have never come across and extensive list of what makes a good man .So with this trusty list on hand we go hard in the relationship, we put everything we have into this relationship to make it work. Everything means my credit card – you can use that , my car – you can drive that , my house – mi sucasa your sucasa , my body – it’s all yours baby and on top of that I will cook and wash your clothes . We have all done that but you know what? In the midst if you being the ideal ride or die to hell and back chick the brother flips on you.

*the ultimate side eye * What part of the script is this behavior ???

Yes love changes, if there was no change there would be no growth .So when the brother starts acting up we raise an eyebrow but give you your “YOU TIME” .Now there is acting up and acting a fool. Somebody explain to me besides the whole male pride  , I am king of the castle cave man mentality ; what part of a normal , adult relationship condones one party shutting the other off because they are going through stuff , are upset , are pissed off or are angry ? Which relationship expert said that was ok? So you retreat to the inner confines of your manly mind and do whatever it is that you do there and I must sit and wait (no period prescribed here it could be a week , a month or however long ) and upon your return throw on my sexy negligee and welcome you back into the confines of our relationship ? Kumusha kure ! Grow up. Once you retreat Mr I need space, stay knowing on your return I will be gone. The phrase man up does not apply to these douche bags they feel the need to man down and you are suddenly both a man and woman.

You turned your back ~ I suggest you keep walking because I have turned mine


Enough is flippin enough. Too many good women have had their hearts broken by some douche bag who took all the good qualities for granted and broke a perfectly good woman. Here is the fact no matter how strong a woman is when you put her through such emotional turmoil you break her. You break her confidence, her resilience, her get up and go attitude and her ability to love. I will stand there and tell you go to hell but the scars you leave are deep. It makes you wonder how you went wrong, if you are worth being loved, if you will ever be good enough and if any man will ever love you. So you enter the next relationship with baggage (now no matter what one says men also have baggage) and you give 30% of yourself and the moment something goes wrong, you run.

Now my dear sisters, love is an amazing thing but love is not a form of slavery .Love is a choice and you have the power to do just that. If you have loved a man on that ride or die tip I know you look at every brother who likes you with a hint of suspicion. Hold up, not every man is a douche bag and not every man must pay for the sins of another. However in the same breath let’s wake up .If a man goes AWOL for 48hrs if he is not in hospital, dead on his back or in a coma , reality check where was he and who was he with. You need to learn to ask the hard questions and sometimes rock that fairy-tale boat .He cannot waltz in and out of your life like it’s a public toilet pa Mbare . No if he has not communicated then an explanation is needed and if the explanation is silly e.g.:

·         I got robbed and was held hostage by aliens

·         My uncle’s wife’s cousins brother borrowed my car and my phone was inside and he ended up in Mpumalanga and I had no way to contact you so I thought rather he comes back and I use my phone to call you.

·         My pastor told me I should cease all communication with you for 48hrs to prove my commitment to GOD

Then you have on your hands a douche bag. Now you have a choice; forgive him and welcome him back into the confines of relationship bliss or show him the door. You are not desperate .You need to be respected and half the time if you are not requiring it trust me the brother will not give it.  Someone once said, “Men give what is required of them”. So if you like attention please don’t say you don’t because you will be frustrated and nag the poor man to death. Be real .Be you and stop riding and dying for everything that presents itself as a picture of love.  

Be honest enough to define the love you can give and deserve

Don’t be so thirsty for love that you allow abuse to take the place of a healthy relationship. Love yourself enough to know that you a damn good woman (don’t be vain), you are a good partner and you deserve a man who will give his time and respect to you. Too many good women are acting like fools because they take stupid excuses from men who think they have the upper hand. It’s not a game, it’s not a bet, it’s a relationship and you are both human. Stay if you want to, are committed to and desire to make it work. Get out if you are unsatisfied, selfish and cannot function in an adult relationship. Enough is enough. You are all too grown to be acting like this! No one signs up for a heart break and too many good people are missing out on love because one fool decided to be a fool. If all else fails ride and die for Jesus, your dreams and your passion. You deserve happiness sha , no matter what happened you deserve a real love , a good love and real chance at happiness.
You deserve to be loved and be happy and that "me and my boo " pic


*drops the mic and exits left *