So yesterday I was just browsing and I ended up on this Heelsndreams a blog by two Zimbabwean women, Tino and Norma. I enjoyed it so much and decided to share with you one of the articles that I completely related to, being married and having grown up in the city. Do not get me wrong my husband”s family treat me great but this will come up one way or the other. To my non-Shona readers the poem is about how women who live in rural Zimbabwe view those who grew up in the city, more like the struggle between working and non-working moms.
“AM I NOT A WOMAN …?”
By Tino Hondo
Hanzi “Vakadzi vakadzidza vanonetsa”
Hanzi “…vasikana vekutown ava, masalad. Havana chavanogona nemaoko avo ari soft iwaya” This said with a shaking of the head kunge tiri kumariro and vari kusiririswa indeed by what has transpired! We girls sit there very much alive wondering what all the sorrow is for. Who has died? Womanhood is very much alive inside of me! I sat through a conversation with a group of men from rural Matebeleland, they laughed their sides open when one asked if I stay in the Avenues and if I can carry mugomo uzere mvura on my head without spilling some. Before I even answers yes or no a barrage of other “follow-up” questions came. Unogona kukuya dovi here? Ko kumona sadza? Ko kumona matumbu? Each question was followed by new bursts of laughter. Ironically, I can do all the above mentioned quite well and I DO NOT stay in the Avenues (not that that”s bad itself). After the conversation was done, I was left thinking “…why do I have to defend my womanhood on the basis of what I can do in a rural setting ini muviri wangu uri pano as proof I am woman. Does one even need confirmation? So here goes another rant in rhyme!!!!You ready?
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So what I cant carry a bucket full of water on my head, kudengezera or not? I dont need to, kwandinogara mvura inomhanya mutap If I needed to I could do the required, so am I not a woman? So what my eyes water in your cooking hut, so what kubatidza moto for me involves paraffin, wood and several attempts? Where I live we use electricity, gas, paraffin, coal and only as a lst resort, your wood, My world would perhaps vex you just as much as yours does me So…am I not a woman? Sometimes I wear my tops low and my jeans cut on the low too for whatever reason, My sister in her “zambia” nedhuku is no less a woman than me, just different gear Her womanhood is as much inside her as is mine In our naked glory we shine just as much as we do in any form of clothing So yeah, I speak my English with an accent yet my Mother tongue is perfect in me So no, you cant walk all over me or treat others like crap in my presence and expect silence We aint similar but we are worth the same. Dignity, respect and satisfaction is an expectation here too So yeah, we speak up that much more, expect that much more We haven’t grown balls and are not trying to contest their size with you, we just found our voice. How do you like it? I could cook just as good as any other and clean house and hang laundry and all of that I could birth life just as well, nurture and love a new generation I could out-smart anyone, out-achieve, out-dream nI could be just a help-mate or I could be all that and chase dreams with that man by my side. As a friend once put it, “I aint looking for justification, definition or approval. I am Woman! This is me. Let me define my own womanhood” Don’t define my womanhood but a script that even you can’t write or follow Last I checked I was all woman and much more – a woman you have no idea what I can do… |
