Going about Africa Day

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25 May is Africa day. In most African it is an actual public holiday as it should be in all African countries. It marks or rather celebrates the founding of the Organisation of African Unity which lay the foundation of the now African Union.

Back in high school, the importance of Africa day were emphasized year after year without fail and honestly most of us did not appreciate it nearly enough. I do not think you can ever appreciate routine until you start freelancing in the enormous adult world where you can actually forget your birthday, later on Africa day.

I am however grateful for forgetting Africa day a few times because it has made me sit down with my African self and carefully prioritize events I ought to celebrate and their meaning. I did some reading and honestly the magnitude of the forming of the OAU is downplayed a bit, because you have to understand the continent then, not all countries were free from colonial rule in 1963. And yet brave wise men and women saw the need to unite Africa, the free to assist those facing their former struggles, that is Pan African ideology at its best.

So what to do on Africa Day? I would advise you do the most African thing you can do, be yourself and celebrate this beautiful continent, that is if you aren’t like me who does it a little by the day. Better yet, some take this as an opportunity to highlight our current problems, which is commendable.

This year’s Africa Day theme is ‘harnessing the demographic dividend through investments in youth’. It may sound like a mouthful or political jargon but if you break it down further it is a solution to many of the problems my beautiful continent is facing. Fact is human resource is one of the best assets Africa has, propaganda usually paints it as over population, but a optimistic Demographer in the making as myself would say it is an untapped resource. If the youth are invested in primarily by educating them, providing jobs or the creative space to allow them to take Africa to the next level, whilst making the most of the bulge the youthful population might create.

Happy Africa day, whether you are dancing the day away, or reading up on your fellow brothers and sisters across the continent( I am reading Reality Bites by G.Esplund, J.Strudsholm, E. Miller) or taking the opportunity to highlight ways to take Africa ahead, have fun and thank you for recognizing the importance of this day.

Be inquisitive

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Ever since I can remember I have always been that one kid who is always asking too many questions, to the point where my own mother would be too exhausted to entertain me. Once out of juice she would refer me to my school teachers and the library. I found more answers in the library than I did anywhere else.

I do not really have any new year resolutions but I did charge myself to be more inquisitive this year. I am naturally inquisitive of course but I want to find a way to bring it to my blog and reward all the precious people who follow my blog. With its approaching three year anniversary, Fadziville needs to make a stand of sort. So bear with me and lets question everything and anything.

Bhudhi Simba!!!

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If you have been following my blog then you have  hopefully read my poem Sisi P.Well where there is a Sisi P, there is a bhudhi Simba. True story hey, my mum and dad raised me to never call my elder siblings by their first name, its a sign of great disrespect, there always has to be a Sisi (if it is your elder sister) before their name, or a bhudhi(if it is your elder brother). Now that you have learnt of some African culture you are welcome.

I love my brother! Twenty one year old version of myself can say that, not sure about previous years. For as long as I could remember my brother was this looming presence that I shared a mother, sister and home with. I did not care much about his life until he left for boarding school and I was the television queen again.I do remember Pokemon and marble games here and there but his dark presence out weighs those, as far as my childhood is concerned.img-20151222-wa0029

The last day before the school term was to end, whenever I would make a left turn into our home street, I would be greeted by loud DMX or Eminem music, a symbolic sign of his return. No more cartoons, would be the first thought, but that was not the worst part of it.I could never do anything right, cleaning, preparing breakfast, I mean he even criticized the way I talked. Most may dismiss it as classic sibling interaction, whatever it was, it caused me to deeply loathe him. Almost every day of the school holidays I was assured i would cry, if not this then that. To be frank I hated him and never understood why he was such a miserable man.

In my second year of high school my brother left for University. Before he did he took the time to visit me in boarding school, which was out of anyone’s way. I knew it was by his own will because you can never get him to do something he does not want, ever. I was astonished and did not know what to say or do. It was an awkward interaction to say the least and the whole time I thought I liked it better when he belittled me, because that I was used to.

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Looking back now I think that was the ice breaker, we talked more after that. His repulsive comments turned  more into constructive criticism, a building block for my creativity. Fast forward to now, I can confidently say he is the best brother ever, I always feel that he is the one person who will listen to my melodramatic rants no prejudice. I sometimes forget there was a time I could not bump into him later on hug or embrace him without serious consequence. My brother is a very significant part of my life and he brings with him insight and genuine concern among other contributions.

Why the rant? Well his birthday is around the corner, so I am easing into the best sister of the year vibes, lol. To be honest, it is that time when people actually put in some effort at trying to be better people, new year new me kind of stuff. Maybe my little story will inspire you to reconcile or try harder to connect with your family. Family is very important and you might find it is what you have been missing to make you worlds better than your 2016 self. Happy new year and happy birthday Big Bro.

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Bhudhi Simba, Sis P and I.

I never had a picture

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This coming April will make it three years since I last saw you. I remember I was doing my lower six and I only had four points to my name that term. I prepared myself for a lecture of a lifetime, mainly because I knew you knew I knew that it was you that deposited my fees just in time for me to get an A-Level place. Instead you just shrugged and pointed out that I was intelligent and things would get better in time. You had no doubt I would pass my exams when it mattered. I had no idea that was the last time I would see you, three years and counting ain’t a joke hey. I do not know if you will even recognise me in a crowd. When mother visited me in boarding school she always brought with her news bout you, like when you brought over your new car, how you went with your then girlfriend to visit Gogo. I always bragged about you to my friends, my brother, the university graduate and more in the making, but I never had a picture to show for it.

Remember that time when I was still by St Dominic’s and the term had just ended, you came to our drop off spot in 4th street to give me money because it was Mother’s intention that I sleep over by Babamukuru’s home in Waterfalls. I begged and pleaded with you not to send me there, even though it was mother’s explicit instruction, you snicked me into your university hostel, made me supper and later on you sent me over to the girl’s hostel to spend the night. The next morning you took me to get a bus get home, I was so grateful, but yet again I do not have a picture to show for it.

Almost every holiday towards the end of it, you wired me some tuck money, sometimes without me asking, even when I knew things weren’t going all that great for you; you ensured I always went to school with the essentials. I always knew you were a phone call away. Remember towards my final exams and I told you I was stressed out and you told me that you knew I would figure out a way out of the dark space. Throughout the years I have thought that the day will come when I could repay you; but you still make sacrifices for me, so unfortunately I do not see that chance rising in the horizon. Maybe one day you will need a kidney or something, I will be a phone call away, with a camera ready so that the moment is never lost. You may think I have forgotten but I would not be here without your big heart. And yes I still do brag about you to my friends.

Chasing our dreams has played its fair share in separating us, I was in school during your graduation ceremony, worst part being when I missed your wedding. To witness you finally get the happiness you deserve. I saw the wedding pictures and videos and I finally have a picture to show just how great life turned out for one of my heroes. Live life and do not hold back, you deserve all the joys ahead of you.


 

 

Dear Mr too-busy-to- feel

I was the only one she trusted with this message to you. She told me the essentials so do not worry too much about your reputation. Sorry for being so harsh from time to time but I cant help myself, I loved her and she loved you. I could still see it in her eyes as she lay next to the empty pill bottle; lifeless. I wish she were stronger than what she let define her, honestly look at you: degree in the making, good family, good money, good heart. Just wasn’t meant for her I guess, but why say you love her, but not listen to her ache and pains. She tried so hard to understand but we both know you could have tried harder. I still don’t understand why she said I should tell you about her pain in my own words.You were the reason she felt it was okay for her to be herself, because she found love in her weirdness. You were the heartbeat of her being, the muse behind her art. Then it was pretty roses and prolonged sunsets, you just had to go and ruin it. Why Mr, why? She emailed me the conversations you had, the one heart-sided conversations always replied by the usual busy tone, why not explain it why it was happening, like school was getting hectic and stuff, she just was not going to assume, you owed her that much. Excuse my crudeness, I am grief stricken. Why, because i had to bury myself yesterday, I had to watch them pile shovels of sand over and over again, like seriously, why? I just think you could have said more of the less you felt. She would have taken it better than the silent lies. To be honest I feel that you did hand her the rope she hung herself with.

I have a lot on my mind but i do not have a “civil” way of saying.

I hope you learn a bit more honesty for the next Mrs too-busy-to-feel. 

Barefoot days

Now that you have mentioned it, I liked it better when all we were was tall, dark and skinny. When we all had browning short hair and Vaseline chiselled faces. We ran barefoot across wet and dry plains, laughing endlessly; running pointlessly. As I lay on the sand and the waves sway  my mind to calm thoughts, its simpler times I succumb to. You remember don’t you?  When riding bicycles was an upgrade; from walking home  to and fro school, I never could remember to pack my raincoat, hence I packed away my school shoes and books in a plastic bag and put it in my bag and walked home barefoot. The shivers of cold icey rain still linger down my spine till this day. I open my eyes; to let the sunshine brighten my that memory somehow. Yes there we go; simplicity in its prime when school was all about getting a couple of stars for patterns you drew effortlessly. When friendship was just a matter of being whoever was in the vicinity, whenever you had a fun idea of how to spend a free afternoon; when all that mattered was if you were done with your chores.

I know you want me to come back, especially now that simplicity has lost its allure to the world. I will come back if you can promise me this: that you will call me from your landline and ask my mother’s permission to come over. When I do get there we will clap hands, sing, dance and most importantly endlessly laugh. That we will hold hands and run across the veld again barefoot. And that when we lay on the green grass to take a breather, nothing will be more important than that moment . Then we will take a ride along the river towards the sunset and share stories of  our time apart as the rays marvel on the river’s reflection. When we get back, your mum will scold us for coming back so dirty and run a bath for us. Can you promise me that the veld still stands, not destroyed by some selfish cause or that the river still runs clean and fresh. If you can then there is a fighting chance I will visit you soon, just to feel alive again. I open my eyes again; I am alive but its not the same as the barefoot days.

To Amai

Dear Mama
I write to you now before human nature overcomes me and I am succumbed to forgetting the hurt that bends my knees almost to raising a white flag.
First and foremost I feel the need to apologise. My deep seeded paranoia has me believing you deserve a better version of me. That maybe what keeps you so faithful to your duties as a mother is clinging to the hope that, maybe, just maybe that woman will soon come to light. That you were not worthy of the fright that came with being called in the middle of the night after I was admitted into hospital numerous times after stress induced summons. Above all I am sorry I am so strong willed and courageous enough to stand up for what I think is right, no matter how small it is or how huge the opposition is. And that those I am standing up to will always bring it back to you. Because they know there no one I love more than you; and that love has grown abundantly over the years as I have watched you work tirelessly for my happiness and well being.

You are in no way responsible for all that ticks anticlockwise in my head. You tried your best but life has a different calling for my character.
To be honest I miss you a lot especially in those moments I fail because it feels like my rebellion is now then an endless and pointless cycle. I feel like running sometimes, just to feel the wind go through my hair; to go and never stop. Instead now just for you, I go to the shoreline to see the waves; listen to them crush against each other, as if in a bid to rescue us from ourselves, through the beauty of death. Sweet innocent waves, gracious waves if only it were that simple, to take that option every time you find yourself round in this square world; it is not an option for me when I have such a phenomenal mother to appreciate the little I have to give.
But I miss you even more when I try my best to be honest and hardworking but the devil still finds agents to stir me away from the few lights that still irradiate along my dark pathway.
Thank you for showing me so much by letting me follow my heart
Hope to see you soon
Your daughter
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