Feminism shmeminism!

Sometimes I'm not sure where to begin with a post. After its been a while I feel like I have all these thoughts in my head and I'm about to explode! It must be the writer's equivalent of blue balls I think.

Speaking of thinking, I'm thinking right now of where in the world to begin. Aha! I've got it. I'll rant That's what I'll do. After all according to the stereotypical outline of a black African woman it comes oh so naturally..right? Or am I wrong? I digress. I'm ranting supposed but about by the way...oh! yes the ludicrous amounts of Woman and girl child human rights abuses happening right now, yes even NOW as you mouth this very syllable. A woman is being raped. A child is being forced into things the most debauched  of minds would find abominable. Even a woman is being humiliated and dehumanized through battery which without a doubt leads murder, the most brutal kind.

I ask this sincerely:
Why are we as a society allowing this madness of sorts to repeatedly manifest behind the closed doors of our closest neighbours?
Our not as distant as assumed relatives?
Our very flesh and bone as the oppressed and / or the oppressor through traditionalist misdemeanour's?

We live in a world were leaders as an addition to followers of Religious fanatics, manics and radicals are enraged at the very idea of a woman being educated. EDUCATION! for the love of all things - EDUCATION. One of the most basic of rights. A right that enables young girls to see beyond the dowry. A right that permits the exploration of some mental diamonds in the rough so they too can have their moment to shine and yet alas a 'man' shall say no to such empowerment.
Don't they get it? Do you? Has it never occurred to the most aggressive of misogynists that in the words of Caiphus Semenya "a woman has a right to be".
Not because we want to rule the world or rid the universe of the male species or even erase the value and purpose of men in society; at least those men that show up when they ought to.
NO!
We, and I say this subjectively want to clothe our families! We want help others in similar predicaments laced in the memories of our very own pasts so that they too can be enabled towards better lives.
Lives that are not dependent, not just on men but on anyone else as a whole.
We as women need more than anything to be equipped beyond our circumstances.
To feel safe because when push comes to shove we can deal with any upheaval that materializes.

You may attribute the rarity of this blatancy to denial, arrogance, fear or the pop culture that now surrounds feminism. But let's be uncouthly honest for a moment:

Women need men's support not their adversity.  

This post is not about me burning my bra and screaming from the top of the RBZ building. For one, I don't think they would let me up there and two, I quite like this bra so NO! I'm not one of 'those' feminists. I'm am me , airing out my rants for the search engines to stumble upon.
Hoping that somehow some way I too have been heard and understood. That some how,  some way through these words the pain and heartache I feel for those beautiful little Chibok girls is understood.
The anguish I feel for the numerous young women in India that have been raped and hung.
how forlorn I am that even back home within the confines of matrimony itself a woman still is treated as though her sexuality is not her own.

#TSKC

Ramblings about Pain on a Toilet Seat

Today I thought I would try something different… a different ‘creative’ environment if you must.

I’m in the toilet with my laptop on a stool (oh my, pun NOT intended) as I listen to Tinashe Makura’s ‘Love and Laughter’.
As comic as my position may seem; I’m not laughing. I have the worst case of food poisoning which sends me to the bathroom more often in an hour than I’d like to count.

 So, in light of the liquid condition of the contents of my guts (Euww that’s really crude Steph!)… I’ve made myself rather comfortable in the loo...

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Pain…at most it’s an indescribable gnawing nuisance. When my mum asks “ko chii ko nhai Hamu?” for the life of me I want to explain. To tell her I’m paralysed with pain. That I don’t want to move because sometimes I think the little bitch (pain and definitely NOT my mum) waits until there a sanctimonious nano-moment of relief and like a heartless ninja her dagger strikes again.
 I forget she’s been at this life game a whole lot longer than I have (My mum this time)... I forget that though I can only signal my feelings she not only feels it with me then…she’s felt it countless times before.
But it’s not easy is it?
To know that you are not the only victim of life…to know that  you have no excuse …that you can’t play the helpless damsel of distress because many have come before you felt this and even greater excruciations; overcome them and didn’t have the time to be arsed long enough to even to tell the tale. And I sit here on a toilet seat … thinking “hey it could be worse” and how comfortable it is in here.
 It’s a funny little thing this big thing named life. #TSKC

Talking Registration, Diasporan Voters &Western Handouts with ZEC’s Laetitia Kazembe

Hey guys! I caught up with one of the Zimbabwe Electoral Commission’s Chairpersons’ or better put; I spoke the very sassy, religiously Catholic, well spoken Laetitia Kazembe who’s been doing this Electoral stuff for a good 12years(i.e. since the dark ages, in a good way though!).

Ironically in light of the virtual and actual chit chat about the elections I asked her some questions in an effort to make her the least bit comfortable, which she sailed through without a batting of her well mascara-d eyelid dodging the typical political mix and matching as she went. Long and short of the conversation here’s stuff you may or may not know, that is to sa if you know it vaguely good on you! If you don’t even better! If you do, read it anyway!

As we conversed about the Electoral elephants in the room, Mrs Kazembe was adamant the younger cool, or un-cool kids (younger generation(s)) were excited and more proactive in the voting process than most think, myself included. She noted this was clear in the nature of turnout and age groups coming to the Registration Centres littered around the country. However she did throw us some punches, pointing out the ‘youths’ tendency for taking the Right to Vote for granted; citing pure ignorance of the struggles experienced by our liberator’s as the cause, that and a lack of Civic Education, which the ZEC intends to include in school curriculums (OH OH! Looks like we skipped a few classes, too many!).  

For what it is worth I have always thought many of us Zimbabweans have tendencies of maintaining passive aggressive states of mind: a WHOLE lot to complain about, thorough social, economic and political observations and yet minimum hands-on solution provision. (That’s just me Steph-ing out loud)

In that light, Mrs Kazembe further pointed out the responsibility we each had to exercise Zimbabwean rights to Register and to Vote rather than sit on our...hands, moaning and groaning about everything, which (I repeat), we can really be good at!

   

Naturally, the issue of limited funding was raised; Mrs. Kazembe stressed ZEC’s intent to meet its immense list of tasks however the financial aspect has been a strong barrier. Thanks to the UNDP’s facilitation and the government’s permission however and other organisations such as SIDA (Swedish International Development Agency) and the Dutch Embassy that have been awfully generous; ZEC has managed to get up and running.  Even the EU has helped out people, “they are really interested that the election process becomes free fair and credible” said Mrs Kazembe. (They and we included!)

When I questioned the independence and possible conflict of interest between ZEC and its ‘donors’; she made it clear that the donations were based on a ‘no strings attached’ basis and ZEC’s independence is rooted in the constitution, citing that there would be ‘no deal’ once lines between donations and political influence were blurred.

On the subject of Registration she emphasized our options for the sticky ‘Proof of Registration’ issue:

v Bring either your old lady or man with a random utility Bill of your choice

v Bring your landlord along

v Ask one of your better organized mates to write you a letter proving you’re not a country hopping gypsy

v Fill in an affidavit at a Registration Centre of your choice, stating where you live then swear on it!

To be honest this sounded a whole easier than I thought it was!

Bad news for the Diasporans I’m afraid, Madam Laetitia made it crystal that zero provision had been made for them seeing as their condition is errm... NOT covered in the Constitution unless of course you’re an Ambassador’s something, a soldier, an officer of the etc. on State business then hey you can just mail your vote! (psssh! Simple!)

For information about everything ZEC related check out their website here, there you can find a snazzy list of the Registration centres (If you are like me yet to register!). If not don’t be a cheap skate buy a Newspaper its (ZEC) all over them. Register and Vote guys, while you’re at it try not carry machetes, throw rocks or chant insults; ‘One Love’. #TSKC