cape of knowlegdeLet them celebrate the seemingly little achievements, the ‘small’ victories in their lives. You have no idea how they got here and what they went through to achieve these seemingly small victories.

This month can be literally be dubbed the month of graduations. From ECD to PHDs and Confirmations into Professorship. Social media is awash with pictures of the black and red gowns, people holding certificates, people celebrating graduations from various institutions.

Last week a friend on Facebook uploaded their graduation pic, she had graduated with an honors degree in Psychology from a local university. I liked the picture and felt so proud because I know how much patience, discipline and hard work is needed for one to complete a four-year course in Zimbabwe. Browsing through the comment section I came across this comment

“ These days everyone is graduating with an honors degree, its no longer worthy to be celebrated.. call me here when you get your Masters hunnae…hakuna mabasa”

Sounds polite and encouraging doesn’t it?

Well I don’t really think so, I can sense a little jealousy, a little mockery, a little aggression and who knows a little “ gara pasi hauna zvawaita”

That drove me crazy and made me want to write this article.

Now I am thinking how many people look at people who are celebrating something, a wedding, a graduation, buying a new car, buying a new phone, travelling to a new place, meeting new people, eating something they have never eaten, finally getting the book /son/ film that they were looking for, a nomination, an award, a recognition, mention , getting that story published, or anything really , and think

“Really now, that’s so common, everyone has it”

How many times have you felt like what someone is celebrating is not worth celebrating?

How many times have you felt like what someone has posted on their WhatsApp status, Facebook, Instagram, snap chat, Twitter or any social media is not worth sharing?

God forbid, I chasten you today… who are you to think that, to want to decide what’s worthy and what’s not worthy to be celebrated in someone’s life?

It might not be a Masters degree but it is a diploma and that person spent three years studying for it, maybe struggled with the fees to pay for the studies, talk about the dire economic situation in our country, maybe they lost a parent or a loved one like me (my father passed away whilst I was doing my second year) or a classmate, maybe they failed some courses and had to repeat, maybe they fell ill,

I can go on and on mentioning the various hardships faced by students while studying for that qualification they are celebrating, no matter how small it is let them celebrate it… you have no idea what they had to put up with to achieve it.

This goes even to small victories in life, travelling, a new job, a new car, a new place to stay, a drivers license, admission to university or your dream school, a marriage, a friendversary, a relationship, the birth of a new child. Everything really, that you feel is worth celebrating.

I believe life is full of battles and every other day you get through is a victory, its worth celebrating.

Ooops!, I almost forgot, some say nay we are Africans, don’t put it out there the jealous relatives will bewitch you… Well they work in magic isn’t it… they probably know it before you even send it on social media so if they want to bewitch you, they will; whether you have celebrated or not. I’d rather celebrate and enjoy and get bewitched than to hide my happiness and still get bewitched.

Remember there is a very thin line between CELEBRATION and SHOW OFF…. guard the edges jealously.

To everyone out there… go ahead spread some love, celebrate with those celebrating if you cant, let them celebrate their achievements, support those who need your support and celebrate you seemingly little achievements.

Above all

Give thanks unto the lord for His blessings on you.

Meet the Zimbabwean Film makers

He dreamt of engineering but he ended up making films, so what do we call him?

By Mercy Mangwana Mubayiwa

As a young boy growing up in Uzumba Maramba Pfungwe Shem Zemura dreamt of becoming an aerodynamics engineer like his cousin in the U.K who always brought home goodies once a year.


However, as fate would have it , he ended up behind a camera calling shots
He went to Chidau, Zengeza and Machekera primary schools, for secondary he went to Magunje High School and then Glen View High 1 and St Alberts for his A’levels.
“ I went on to do a financial accounting course before I studied for an accounting degree (UNISA) later on I did a certificate in Film and Television Production”, said Shem Zemura.

Now a 27 year old director, producer and a dad, Shem aka Quashburg (a name taken from his grandad Makwasha who always carried a funny bag where ever he went) , has realized that dreams can change and has done well as a filmmaker.
He recently directed and produced a feature film “Kushata Kwemoyo” which he plans to premier later this month(end of December 2017)
Over the years Shem has worked on various projects. His first film project was with LoveWorld Sat, he did an episode called the Prodigal Son in South Africa.
In 2013, he came back home and partnered with his brother Nick Zemura and they did My lady a feature film which was nominated thrice in the National Arts Merit Awards but, never won an award.
This was to become a very strong partnership as they worked together and produced Muchaneta a popular series, a sitcom which was a hit in the Zimbabwean small screen and Award winning Muzita Rababa a drama series which explored socio-religio-economic issues in Zimbabwe.
Shem Directed the two shows which aired on ZBC Tv, a short film Departed for the 60 hour film challenge.
As noted above Shem never dreamt of becoming a film maker it just happened to him.
“I joined the traditional dance club when I was in grade 3, directed my first stage drama when I was in grad six, trust me, there I aborted all the engineering nonsense, I fell in love with the arts and started dreaming of seeing my name and face on television I didn’t know how but I knew I would one day…”, said Shem.
“ I am my own inspiration . I am driven by the desire to change African Cinema and to eduatain the worlsd about the beauty of our continent”, he said.
His current production Kushata Kwemoyo is a film set in both urban and rural Zimbabwe which explores delicate issues of abuse, hatred, revenge, back stabbing, regret, love, forbidden love amongst other things.
It boasts of a rich cast starring Charles Mzemba, Gamu Dube, Kudzai Musungo , Elijah Madzikatire , Alaika Bhasikolo among others.
It was written by Amanda Ranganawa based on a true life story.
Asked on his achievements so far, Shem noted that he has not yet reached the highlight of his career but, has had some wow moments.
“ I have not seen the highlight of my career . Yea, I have done great productions, but I have not reached a quarter of my full potential. That great moment is still to come maybe in 2018.

“However my first achievement was when I co directed a stage play for the Inner City Drama Festival in South Africa, the play scooped 13 awards. Besides that my greatest achievement so far is being able to put up and lead the best Film production in Zimbabwe. They say chara chimwe hachitsvanyi inda– it takes a dedicaterd , strongly skilled and motivated team to create award winning content” he said.
Shem believes the Zimbabwean entertainment industry is still a baby that is still learning to walk .
“ Each toe is a production house, all toes work together for the baby to balance properly, but no matter how strong these toes are, the baby needs a mother to steer her in the right direction, we need the support of the government and the corporate sector to stand firm and start making huge confident leaps” said Shem.

He pointed out that to make the industry viable and profitable there is need for better skills development structure and policies. The local universities do not have proper infrastructure and machinery to support film and television departments.

“There is need to import knowledge through exchange programs with foreign Universities through government scholarships,” he said.
Shem argues that the training institutions are trying their best despite the challenges.

“Film is more of a practical subject, which requires industry equipment and tutors with industry experience. There is need to have more independent training institutions”.

In five years Shem believes the industry would have grown into a successful and profitable one.

“I foresee supportive local markets, a profitable industry, thousands of players, support from the corporate world, our own Zimbabwean box office, collaborations and competitive productions being made.

On family life Shem, is as prod Dad to a bubbly daughter Iris, he says she is the love of his life.

“In my experience it has not been easy to spend time with my daughter. The long hours put into the productions take most of the time meant for family time, but I think this is what every starting entrepreneur goes through in all industry sectors not art,”he said.

Parting words

Be yourself, dare to be different, keep doing what you are doing and break the rules… film of cause.


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Kwese Iflix launches and as a Zimbabwean I feel proud


Econet has again proved to be a pioneer in Zimbabwe by launching the Kwese Iflix VOD app which basically is like Netflix and Showmax. Personally I feel proud as a Zimbabwean who is obsessed with VOD apps because I am a tv addict.

Kwese Iflix offers a vast lineup of programs from Africa and beyond, I am currently subscribed for a month and I must say I am impressed. The program width might be limited for now but the up side its paid via Ecocash, I mean the hustle I used to go through to subscribe for my Lifetime Movie Club and my Alt Balaji app I had to find someone with a mastercard but now it as easy as *119#

Better yet Kwese Iflix has Live tv as well with our ZBC available for free, Econet has just made Zimbabwe accessible to the world. My favourite feature is also…

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I don’t know why Munga married me.

Iphani’s pregnancy is showing now. She Iooks tired. I went alone to the fields yesterday

The weeds were too much but I tilled half the patch yesterday. I am so tired I will finish, not tomorrow or next week but when I can. When I have rested enough I get so tired these days.

Iphani woke me up at two am the other day. She thought her waters had broken. It amazed me even though we both were not sure how long her pregnancy was but I’m sure it is not yet due. She came to Bulawayo 8months ago. Nevertheless I examined her, when I did, I discovered that she was bleeding.

I could not think of anything except waking up Munga

He went to check on Iphani who was sleeping in the kitchen

While I prepared the pregnancy concoction….I was panicking so it took longer to prepare.

Munga calmed Iphani down and prayed for her

When I brought the concoction Iphani was calm and all cleaned up. She drank the concoction but you could tell she was in pain. For a second the thought of taking her to the hospital terrorized me  but I quickly discarded it remembering vividly what happened the last time I sought medical attention, the beating. Well I knew Munga would say “oh ye of little faith…sometimes I wonder why I married you.

Honestly I don’t know why Munga married me.

I think he married me because he didn’t have much to do but, I don’t want to think about the events surrounding my marriage today maybe some other day.

Munga has never really told me he loves me. He never expresses his good feelings even if he is happy he doesn’t show.

I have never really enjoyed the mating. Munga and I just do it. My body betrays me a lot, I hate it when it gives in. Once I heard this other woman Maria from church, Maria who speaks too much and Maria who giggles at church all the time (She is always reciting apology prayers), I heard her say she enjoyed sex.

One day while we were at a women’s conference she asked us if we had fun in the bedroom, everyone looked down embarrassed. The leader Madzimai Ruth told us that our duty is to make sure our men are satisfied in bed. After church other women went up to her myself included, I did not say anything I was listening as they asked her what she meant.

She told us about reaching an orgasm, going down amongst many embarrassing things. I was more embarrassed because she talked about things I have never heard of. So I tried asking Munga if we could try something new in bed that evening he said I was becoming a whore. In his words “ If I want to try something new I will marry another wife stick to your routine woman”.

That was the end of my fantasy.

I did not go to my mother’s burial… I only know his angry side. Even when I gave birth to our first child he just looked at the child and said…”He has big eyes like you”, well my eyes are just that, big.

The man from that supermarket looked at me like I had killed someone. The other day I met him at Egodini (Taxi Rank), he greeted me and mentioned that he remembered me from the supermarket and that there was something with my eyes. In his words “when you looked at me the other day at the supermarket I felt like you could see through me, like all my sins have been exposed”

Iphani was is pain…

We kept giving her the concoction. On the third day Munga declared an absolute fast hebana, don’t get me wrong I fast when there is need but I felt fasting for a or pregnancy was too much, three days was a lot but well I fasted, we fasted, prayed and Munga told me that Iphani had done something and she needed to confess. We both resolved to ask her.

When we did finally ask her on the 7th day since she had fallen sick, Munga was his usual calm self Munga nudged me to speak first.

I cleared my throat. I didn’t know what to ask, how to say it but Munga looked on determined to let me be the one asking.

So I asked her “Mtase this pain will not go away on its own, you need to confess’’, Well that was not a question it was a statement. Munga inched closer and said to her “Mainini the spirit showed me everything, now we don’t have all day, confess to your sister here what you did and you will be free of this sickness and deliver properly…” Iphani stared at us scared. She began to say something but stopped mid-sentence, she looked at both of us like we had leprosy, rolled her eyes and turned her back on us. I was shocked as I turned to check Munga’s reaction, I saw him emerge from the bedroom holding his famous Mboma (cow hide whip). I knew what that meant and I panicked.  There was no stopping him.  I knew if I tried I would get a thorough one for getting in the way of divine punishment.

Iphani had asked for it. You don’t roll your eyes at Munga and get away with it. Munga looked at me, his eyes glassy with tears and said “You understand why I have to do it right?”

I nodded slowly.

He went to Iphani’s frame on the floor and hurled his first stroke. I cringed.


I did not go to my mother’s burial…

Girls not brides

…children not brides.

I got married at 17 and l had my second child at 20.

I Will not get to the details of the circumstances which led to my marriage, l mean child marriage stories are everywhere and too painful to relate. At 22 l discovered family planning. When l tried to talk my husband into it l got a beating of my life instead. The beating left me nursing a swollen eye,cracked lip,broken rib and a broken spirit. Munga my husband did not care. I had to lie to the doctor and say l fell into the well for me to get treatment. It will be insensitive for me to report him. I believed l deserved the beating because l had tried to make him give in to morden medicine against our principles and the doctrine of our church.

 So yeah, l lied and we let that pass,he forgave me and l had to fast for seven days to get Gods forgiveness and for the church to accept me. Munga forgave me. He could not stay mad at the mother of his kids or could he?

I assumed he was okay. Munga had money,he was rich. He was a prophet and he made them pay. He gave people water and stones saying they were prayers meant to fix their problems. With him being a prophet we always had visitors at our tiny two roomed cottage in Makokoba. I had to be pleasant always . I had to be nice,ready to listen and welcoming. Munga would always remind me to be pleasant with a stinging slap if l forgot.

My marriage was just, that a marriage to a prophet of God. When my mother died last year Munga had warned us that her sister had joined satanism. So she used her as a sacrifice. He tried to stop it but then he said the ancestors had allowed it. Munga said l could not go to the funeral because the Satanists will be there to drink mama’s blood. I cried and he said my tears were a sign of weakness. I sobbed to bed…when he slid into the worn out linen on the bed next to me l faked sleep. Munga shook me, the way he does whenever he wants to enjoy his conjugal rights. I ignored him and he got mad. He forced himself on me. I love my husband but l could not get the picture of my mother lying in state ,cold and dead waiting to be buried tomorrow, out of my mind. I could not enjoy being Munga’s wife while people were gathered to mourn my mother! I tried to protest and he slapped me and told me he had paid enough brideprice for me to please him in bed whenever he needs me to. So l complied. It was fast rough and clumsy. Thank heaven, l know how to make him get his release real quick. After 7 mins he was groaning with satisfaction and l sobbed some more and he thought l liked it. I didn’t.

Afterwards l lied next to his snoring self and sobbed all night. I felt alone and scared. I wanted to go home but l could not. My husband had said no.

 I did not attend my mother’s burial. I went home a week after she was buried. When l got home l found Iphani and Nina my young sisters home alone. The relatives had gone back to their homes. They cried and Iphani the oldest narrated how mama died. She told me how people gossipped at the funeral about how poor we were. Some said l had died in the city and others said l was heartless. Nevertheless l stayed for two days following Munga’s directive. I could not stay longer. Iphani cried and asked to go with me to Bulawayo. For the first time eversince l got married l made a decision without Munga’s approval. I could not leave my siblings suffering alone in the rural areas.

I went back with them and when we arrived Munga just said “it is fine they can stay with us, since you my wife decided they should”,l was happy and l hugged and kissed him thanking him for his good heart. We stayed together.

Six months down the line Iphani is pregnant. She is 15 and she is carrying Munga’s child,I think its a son. When l asked Munga why he just said “Iphani did not fight me so why not?”, l was angry but now l am okay. I am giving Iphani tips on how to be a good mom. I would rather be co wives with my sister than have a strange woman come and share a husband with me. At least l have help ,Munga no longer bothers me. I wonder though what Iphani thinks,she is always quiet we do not talk much. Nina plays with my daughters when l go to the small field at the edge of Makokoba.

My mealies are growing…


We all have breaking points

….Let it out, it’s good for you.

So today as I was busy working on my project at work. I was so engrossed and focused until my boss asked me to clarify something. I did, he kept asking and poking as usual.

I maintained my cool and explained.

He kept asking and saying stuff, the more he asked the more the pressure mounted on me. I tried explaining to him what the whole thing was about, but he would not budge until I completely lost it.  I shouted and told him to stop treating me like a baby.

Let it all out baby!

It was a hectic session, well I will not get into the gory  details of the whole encounter, but rest assured that I am not in trouble. My boss is a reasonable guy and yes he let it go, I managed to get out of the sticky situation without a written warning (My worst fear).

As I am reflecting on the incident now, I realise that I was wrong and he was right, for today at least. I just got upset and lost it not because of what he said today but about all the previous incidents that I swept under the carpet.

As I was shouting I mentioned how belittled and unappreciated I felt…. Now note that you do not just wake up and feel like that, not even under the circumstances of the incident I am relating. Feelings and emotions develop over time, incidents and happenstances influence them. They do not just grow overnight like mushroom. The emotions build up over time, each incident is a block that builds up into one big emotion. We all have breaking points. Every bubble has a bursting point.

Every word uttered is recorded in the system and the emotions build up on these. One day when something silly happens, it becomes a tip of an iceberg and everything will come out as raw as it is and there is no way of stopping that self-damaging poison from getting out of your mouth once it starts. Today I learnt that I should not bottle things up. When I do not like something I should just say it as it is. I should not wait for the best opportunity or pretend it never happened.

It is so difficult I know and I am still learning to master how to take situations as they come. I grew up a little reserved child. My family was never big on these “talk outs”, I never really had the chance to express myself. Even at school. I learnt expressing myself through writing. I used to write letters and poems when angry, upset or just hurt. Sometimes addressed to the person whom the anger was directed to (Not that they got to read the long emotional letters). Though I remember one incident when my aunt and I had a fall out. I wrote my uncle a letter, I was just venting, I never meant to give him the letter but somehow my aunt found the letter in my diary and took it straight to my uncle. Don’t ask me what happened thereafter, its bad history because you do not really want to know. Let’s just say he did not like it…I regret that letter daily. Sometimes these angry letters were directed to my diary, my confidante or sometimes to God. I never let anyone read them, but there was always that risk that what if someone goes through my stuff and reads the emotional letter?

Today I have resolved to fix it there and then. Let it out baby, It is good for your, for your health and for your relations. Being open about your feelings is the best gift you can ever give to you. It reduces your risk of getting I High high (High blood pressure) and Depression.

How to

Listen, be sure how you feel…breathe out and calm down then address the issue calmly, no need to shout, cry or scream. Just remember to be kind always shouting wastes your energy and leaves you feeling crappy afterwards…You do not need to shout to be heard

So do yourself a favor and let it all out to live a stress free life!

My Journey to Understand Cancer

Cancer, No, Not Again!

By Mercy Mangwana Mubayiwa
“MERCY BABA VEDU VASHAIKA!”,(MERCY OUR FATHER HAS PASSED AWAY),said my brother last Friday morning.
For a moment I did not get what he was trying to say. I asked him, “What do you mean?”, and he then explained:
“Tete vaya vanga vachirwara vashaika nhasi makuseni, I just got the news”.(Our aunt who was ill passed away this morning)
In my culture my father’s sister is as good as my FATHER.
I froze for a moment, this was the person I had talked to on the phone the other day, This was the same person who had came by our place and gone for some tests , she looked fine when I saw her, she was always cheerful and then it struck me, Cancer had taken yet another member of my family and there was nothing much I could really do about it.
She had stomach cancer.
I was distraught.
The doctor had promised that she will be fine because he had detected it at an early stage until he operated on her and discovered that the cells had spread rapidly to other organs.
He suggested chemotherapy and we welcomed it hoping it would heal her.
We had believed in the doctor and my aunt had hoped that she was going to survive, all this was in vain.
I cried, remembering the resources invested in seeking medical attention, I cried thinking bout the time spent hoping from hospital to hospital, doctor to doctor, town to town seeking varied opinions.
I cried because I had lost a blood relative, I cried because one of my closest cousins had lost a mom, a bread winner, I cried thinking of the prayers and fasting, oh my!, the list goes on.
It brought back the thoughts of my Mbuya, my Muroora, my brother, my sister and my cousin, who are battling with different types of cancers.
I cried for many others who had lost their relatives due to cancer, I cried, I cried and I cried.
And then it struck me, I did not even understand what cancer is all about and maybe there are many others who have no idea what it is, yet it is one of the deadly diseases of our time.
I went on a journey to discover what cancer is.
So this is a series of writings in my journey to discover what cancer is, it’s types, treatment and all. I am no doctor so I will be quoting experts.
Cancer, also called malignancy, is an abnormal growth of cells. There are more than 100 types of cancer, including breast cancer, skin cancer, lung cancer, colon cancer, prostate cancer, and lymphoma. Symptoms vary depending on the type. Cancer treatment may include chemotherapy, radiation, and/or surgery. This is an overview of Cancer.
In this article,let’s define cancer.
CANCER is the name given to a collection of related diseases. In all types of cancer, some of the body’s cells begin to divide without stopping and spread into surrounding tissues.
Note that Cancer can start almost anywhere in the human body, which is made up of trillions of cells.
Normally, human cells grow and divide to form new cells as the body needs them.
When cells grow old or become damaged, they die, and new cells take their place.
When cancer develops, however, this orderly process of division,growth,damage and all breaks down, cells become more and more abnormal, old or damaged cells survive when they should die, and new cells form when they are not needed.
These extra cells can divide without stopping and may form growths called tumors.


My journey to understanding cancer can be yours too!
Many cancers form solid tumors, which are masses of tissue. Cancers of the blood, such as leukemias, generally do not form solid tumors.
Cancerous tumors are malignant, which means they can spread into, or invade, nearby tissues. In addition, as these tumors grow, some cancer cells can break off and travel to distant places in the body through the blood or the lymph system and form new tumors far from the original tumor.
Unlike malignant tumors, benign tumors do not spread into, or invade, nearby tissues. Benign tumors can sometimes be quite large, however.
When removed, they usually don’t grow back, whereas malignant tumors sometimes do.
Unlike most benign tumors elsewhere in the body, benign brain tumors can be life threatening.
Look out for the next article where we discuss HOW CANCER ARISES AND THE DRIVERS OF CANCER.

Back to 2008

History repeats itself

Viral pictures of recently printed  bondnotes circulating in the black market 

So today l write, in pains of witnessing one of the sad experiences repeating itself to me.
I am writing at a personal note because this has become personal. I feel l am being affected as an individual before l am together with my family  and collectively as Zimbabweans.
So today, the sad 23rd day of September 2017 the Zimbabwean market was flooded with bond notes.
Apparently someone decided to buy all the foreign currency in the market specifically United States dollars.
I remember chatting to a good friend of mine Baba Kundai the day before yesterday about it.
He felt that we will be reliving the damned 2008 experience soon.
When we were talking l thought it was far fetched.
I thought he was heing paranoid.
I felt the same way l felt when people tried to reject bondnotes as a solution to our problem as a nation.
I felt he was being too analytical and judgemental only to wake up to the predicted sad reality a day after.
I am at pains.
Note that l am not going to analyse any economic factors, lm not going to bore you with math, lm no economist or accountant or anything close to that.
I am an ordinary 22 year old Zimbabwean girl who last did math in form 4 and a bit if media economics at university level.
I am not qualified to talk about market forces or predictions or what. But, since l am an invovled party in this ‘mess’ we have created for ourselves l shall speak.
Later on in the day l was at home touching base with family like someone who soends the whole week away and comes home on a Friday, l find people strategising how to survive under this situation.
Yes my family is scared, l am scared, people are scared. We are slowly going back there again.
The long bank queues soon will be long food queues.
Basic comodities are slowly dissapearing from supermarkets, l mean our own Zimgold cooking oil seems to be in short supply these days.
People are now networking on Twitter on the availability of fuel at certain garages, prices of basic comodities have almost doubled.
The situation is despondent.
The future is so uncertain.
People are angry.
People are scared.
I am worried.
I dont know if l will survive this, l am not sure if they will survive this, honestly l have no idea how we are going to live with this as a nation.
I could not sleep. I saw online pictures that have gone viral, thanks to the silly runners who are awed by the sight of so much money. So yes l was amazed after seeing the pictures of fresh, new, and crisp bondnotes in car back seats, people were carrying them in satchels today at roadport in Harare  and other money vending areas.
Since l couldn’t sleep worrying about the sudden turnaround, l wonder how someone sleeps at night knowing that they engineered this whole thing, knowing that they are the reason why we are in this deep kak as a nation.
I wonder how someone sleeps at night knowing that they are the reason why someone sleeps  on a bank queue?  How does one sleep knowing they are the reason why prices have doubled?
How does one sleep when they are the reason why l am failing to sleep?
How will it be resolved?
I think of my faithful civil servant lmother based at her rural school, how will she cope come monthend when she gets into town to get her pay?
At least plastic money will come through for her but untill when?
Then l think of my pensioned sekuru kumusha uko, he is waiting for monthend to go ku town to get his meagre $40 from the bank… Vachaiwana here?
Kana vaiwana vanotengei nayo?
The solution now is to buy the basic comodities in bulk, my sister said as we were deliberating on a solution.
We all agree, but how since the swipe system is slowly becoming unpopular.
I do not know much but l understand with unmatched sobriety where we are going. The future is bleak.
I wonder where are the prophets who prophecied an economic boom for Zimbabwe?
Where are the economists who assured us that bond notes will never lose value?
Where are the custodians of our economy, our trusted ones where are they when this is happening to us?
I think of my cousins back in the ghetto, things were already hard, how hard will they be in light of this?
How much more bad will they become?
Will we end up not seeing bread in the shops, will we miss the fully packed shop shelves like what happened in 2008?
I pray no one dies of hunger, neglect or poor medical service.
I pray for a miracle because that is exactly what we need to pull through.
Shame on those who are celebrating this situation, those engineering and aiding it. Shame on you for you have no conscience.
I pity the runners who have no idea that their little actions will be the reason why there will be fuel shortages, long queues for everything, higher crime rate and even extremes of people dying of hunger.
If only they knew they would not give in to ripping the economy for a few dollars in return.
They would cough out the nanes of the people sending them to do this abomination.
They would give them away and refuse to be used…
I sigh. I am worried, l have never been d wortied for myself and everyone else.
How will it end?


Get a new pair of SHORTS!

By Mercy Mangwana Mubayiwa

I remember how frustrated I was when I realised that my blue shorts were not fitting anymore.

After a good three months at Tongwe High School a boarding school in the heart of Beitbridge rural areas. After a good three months of wearing the maroon tracksuits, brown tunics, beige shirts, blazers and scotched summer uniforms amongst other things I was excited to finally come home and wear my blue shorts.

I tried them, sucked in my stomach, worked my chest, tucked and all but the zipper would not go past half and the button would not close. I tried, tears welled in my eyes. I swallowed hard and let them slide down my legs in defeat.  I sat on my bed and started sobbing softly. Note that l was not crying because of the blue shorts only. This trend of outgrowing my clothes every holiday was beginning to get to me.You know dear reader, l did not understand why every holiday my clothes seemed smaller or bigger.

Still trying to figure out what to wear, my father honked the hooter, it was time to leave.  I sobbed even more because l knew l was not yet ready and my dad being a sucker of time would not wait longer.

My mom Cee(we call her that. I can call her mama or mhai or something , she has always been Mam Cee) came onto my room.

She asked “Meme awukaqedi”(Meme aren’t you done).


She went on to say “uyihlo uyatshinga phandle, uthi liphuzile ukuvuka,manje selimphuzisa. Ule meeting lo Mohadi e Town”

(your dad is mad at you he says you guys woke up late and you are going to delay him  he has a meeting with Minister Mohadi).

I looked at her and cried.

She stood there and asked me what the matter was. I relayed to her my problem.“Mam Cee, izigqoko zami zonke azisakwani. Ishort eyiblu iyala ukuzipha”

(Mam Ceemy clothes are a size smaller they don’t fit anymore. My blue shorts ain’t zipping up).

Now, note that l use Isindebele whenever I talk to my mom, even though l am Shona. I am a product of a mixed marriage but that is a story for another day.She went  out quietly and told my dad to go and she told me not to worry.

She promised to go shopping with me the next day. She said to me, “growing up is like that my baby, now it’s clothes soon it will be people and  a whole lot more. This is just preparing you for later in life.

Now l realise my mom being a teacher,  used the blue shorts incident to illustrate a great lesson . She taught me well. I am passing it on.

Just like clothing, there comes a time in life where you outgrow some things, some people, some behaviors , some practices, some professions, some friends , some relationships and even some gadgets. What hurts is that it is seldom planned. It just happens. You a kilogram gain in weight can make it difficult for you to wear your favourite skirt. Just alike, a day away from a friend , lover can change a lot.At times it is not anyone’s doing, it just happens and we have to live with it.

Never beat yourself up for outgrowing anything. You see dear reader it was not my fault that my blue shorts couldn’t fit anymore. They could not fit because l had simply grown up. Note that l had not grown fat, l had just gained a few good kilos. So yeah it was not my fault at all.

Come to think of it l had not even noticed that l had had that pair of shorts for a very long time, the were beginning to wear out. So it was good for me to outgrow them. It is the same with people and relationships, some of them have been there for far too long such that they have become toxic, draining and bad for one’s health … it is good to outgrow such and get a new pair of shorts!


Please, Sorry and Thank you


By Mercy Mangwana Mubayiwa 

Imagine how many relationships from family, love and friends would be saved if people seasoned their speech with these three special words… Please, sorry and thank you

I was with  a colleague (l will call her Langa) today and we were travelling from town to our place (well not ours really, but that’s another  story altogether). So yah, we boarded a commuter omnibus, it was quite a ride, nothing to write home, oops not write but l’d rather say it was nothing to text home about. It was just a normal ride from town to our place except for the occasional chit chat about how we spent our day( mind you we just met up on our way home  we were therefore not together all day) and lookout for our bus stop. All was well until she called out our stop. Not that it was wrong, indeed we had arrived but just calling out like second street, or boomgate, or right turn… you know our bustops in Harare are just that…but ours has a nice english name to it, its actually the name of a road Powland. Sounds like a civilised and monied area doesn’t it? So yeah Langa just called out ‘Powland’ just like that nothing else , imagine how it sounds in a taxi with 17 passengers who are quiet… l flushed…she nudged me this is us Mercy we gotta go, move it.

She didn’t see anything wrong about. I chastised her. And well l am naturally slow so the Conductor had to shout at me… vana sister burukai ka haikona kuramba makastika, munoti imota yekuden kwenyu here iyi…? He would have gone on and on had we responded to  that. l mean like really dude. Well we got of and l was thinking why are people so unpolite nowadays. I mean for Langa it wouldn’t have hurt to nicely ask ‘my brother may you please drop us off at the next stop’ and if you feel like they might know it you name it ‘ my brother may you please drop us off pana Powland, pa boomgate or whatsoever fancy name’. It wouldn’t have hurt for the conductor to ask us why we were taking so long to get off. I would have said to him ‘my brother l’m sorry but the seat is not folding to pave way  for me to pass. Kindly fix it for us’.  That would be a good conversation.

So many a times we lose the confidence of those people who matter because of our lack of politeness. We lose those tenders, contracts, those opportunities because we are not nice. A little nicety here and there wouldn’t be hurt. I know in  our society things are tough, we are frustrated, things ain’t going the way we planned but don’t take your frustrations on others… its not their fault you didn’t get paid. You would not know maybe they haven’t been paid too so if you are to be impolite to them they will serve you their best of impoliteness and trust me you might end up hurling bad words at each other.

There are beautiful three words to compliment your  speech always, these are please, sorry and thank you. They are my polite cues… they work miracles, they humble you and they earn you respect. The set you and you can never go wrong with one of them… you will be safe from other people’s frustrations and you won’t dump your frustrations to those who have no business dealing with them.

So MaZimbabwe amahle, Madzimbabwe akanaka let’s embrace politeness, live it breathe it, get inspired and moved by it

Let politeness be your bread and butter, your chicken sauce and your main meal ,  it will be your apple pie. You will be making your unique contribution into the world…

Note: l hate it when people shout. Though l am not the most polite person I know… I want to be.