Zimbabwean lives matter!!!

365 militant I said I’d be
The time came, a few you could see
To silence us they took only three
We shouted, SET THEM FREE!!!
Birthed by a she
From this outrage, brother, sister; will you still flee
No longer the time to get on your knee
The women’s tears shall cover thee
The Lord almighty has given this decree
Stand with me; this is my plea
All else we shall come back and see
Let it not take years to find jubilee
Our liberators’ wildest dream, siyimbokodo
Our strength they could not forsee!

My hands trembled as I held my phone in hand, the narration of their ordeal sent shivers down my spine. To say I was afraid would be an understatement, petrified ; that’s more like it. My soul wept but the tears would not fall. How could someone treat a human, worse still a woman this way? I imagined what they must have gone through and what might have been going on in their minds.

“How long is it going to last?”

“How many times are they going to rape us?”

“Is anyone looking for us?”

“Are our families safe?”

“Will the people see why we had to rise up?”

“Are we going to die?”

Until a few days ago, I honestly did not know them, but they knew me and they knew you, fellow Zimbabwean, for you they rose up, they knew of our plight which have always been afraid to bring to light out of fear that this very atrocity could befall us. Cowardice has crippled us into not realizing the strength in our numbers, this has gone on for far too long and we have taken it silently. Not silently per se but we haven’t been loud enough in voicing our truths.

A fellow writer and friend has always been loud, clear and consistent in letting us know that only a revolution can save us. Well known for her hashtag, #zanupfmustgo, which she uses in every conversation even in conversations one would think it is irrelevant, but finally I realize how important and relevant her mantra is, we may talk of everything and anything but let us not forget that there is an enemy we should be rising up against, and until we do, all else is frivolous. Mamo, I’ve been listening but it is only now that I am finally hearing you.

We are way past the, “bazayenza abanye/vachaita vamwe/others will do”, and in the words of advocate Mahere, if you are not outraged by what is going on in Zimbabwe then you are not paying attention. To Cecilia, Joanna and Netsai, we thank you and applaud you for your valour, until we are free from this bondage, the fight shall go on!

I wrote this article over 2 months ago but I never got the courage to post it, I found myself looking at the “publish” button and instead of hitting it I simply shut my laptop and my mouth as well. I gave it to my husband to read and he said this is our sad reality, but remember our son is is not even 6 months old, he needs you here and if anything happens to you we won’t be able to recover from it. , I argued that I was of no significance in this country for them to come after me for a simple blog post. On the 31st of July people were meant to take to the streets in peaceful protests but a number of us chose to stay at home and protest online out of fear of what may befall us especially with the arrest of journalists in the days leading up to the protests.

Today I woke up to the timeline awash with the #zimbabweanlivesmatter and after the things that took place these past couple of weeks and especially 31 July I am glad to see a number of people speaking up against all of the injustices that we as a nation face. There are no doctors or nurses in hospitals, there’s no medication or equipment for them to use in the midst of this pandemic. Just last week seven out of 8 babies died at Harare hospital because of the deteriorating state of our health care system, or maybe I should just call a spade a spade and say our non existent health care system.

A number of people were arrested this past weekend and some were abducted, the narrations of their ordeals is heart wrenching. The pictures online continue to make me cry and to have me wonder, until when will this be our narrative as a country?

I was born
The problem is that I was born a woman
Forced to carry the burdens of this world
For my womb birthed the ones who burden the world
My hands groomed these burdens
So whatever it be
Nature versus nurture
The blame I will forever carry

I was born
The problems is that I was born Black
My melanin they inwardly envied
Whilst they outwardly belittled

I was born
The problem is that I was born a Zimbabwean
Not even a speck of dust did I resemble to the world
My plight to them was frivolous
But how could I blame them when my own family
The African Union
Looked on at all these atrocities and said
ALL IS WELL!

I was born
The problem is that i was born a creative
Found ways to live with the scars
In my pages I was screaming; HELP
On the stage they cheered on; ART
So not to die, I wrote on to live on
Bleeding daily onto these pages
To free myself from the pain.

It’s 9:00am, I hope today I get the courage to share my thoughts, but if I don’t, I pray I live to see the day when I can share my thoughts without fear of what may befall my family and I.