Reality Slap!

Five days from today I will be in plane headed home after four years of being away. It is a difficult trip with a mixed bag of emotions. So let me pen it out a bit and ease the pressure before I go insane.

See my September has been a rollercoaster of emotions, one minute I am excited and happy I will finally get to see my family and all those beautiful landscapes of my motherland that i have so dearly missed. l will get to sleep in my room again, see my childhood friends have real food, beautiful sunrises, breathtaking sunsets, wildlife etc, the list is endless.

Then the next minute I am shivering and reaching for the blankets afraid to face the misery of it all, the poverty at home, the depreciated infrastructure, the economic hardships, the battered souls, everything and anything l ran from six years ago. Will I cope?

I am afraid of those coming to embrace me with a smile with the hope of me upgrading their lives materialistically even if just for a day. I cannot, I am but just a student.

l am afraid of going back and not being able to fit in no matter how hard I try to camouflage myself. Will my misfit behaviour no longer be labeled as different but arrogant now that I have been away for a while?

I am afraid of being me and voicing out my opinions on some of our cultural practices, and offending family in the process.

I am afraid of so many things…

Anyway, moving on

So last week l decided to escape to England and visit my sister for a bit until my travel dates were near. l had started loosing sleep due to my stress levels. Pulling all strings of my budget tight to allocate as much as I could for the home trip. Getting as much work done as i could to give myself enough time to enjoy the time i will spend home. Studying hard to try to compensate for those 3 weeks i will be away. My planning OCD didn’t help either, see with me everything is always meticulously planned. Everything also means a detailed plan B, C, D and E incase A doesn’t work. So yes l was definitely loosing it, thank God for the England getaway.

While here l have refused to acknowledge or entertain anything and everything reminding me of the trip. The only significant thing i did was to go and get a short tapered haircut ( the naturalista movement girls out there know!). By the way my sister aint very pleased about it, she feels my sophisticated haircut makes me ooze of a gay vibe and the family will be gob smacked and totally fail to recognise me at the airport, I mean this is the first time I have cut my hair in six years. Fail to recognise me? Please!!! I will start world war three single-handedly! Better not try that with me!!!!!

So yea,

it’s not easy being the girl from Bulawayo. On top of that I have to gear myself up for my two different lifestyles I lead when in Zimbabwe. See at home my life is equally divided into two halves, moms family versus dads family and weirdly enough they are the extreme opposites. So in a nutshell half of my holiday will be spent lounging around the different mansions, chilling by the pool going for game drives and just living the life. And the other half will be spent in constant worry, living from hand to mouth, hustling for the next meal and trying to survive. Both of these worlds are me and i have come to accept that at the moment everything is beyond me to bring these two in unison. But hey i am the libra in the family, one day is one day.

Okay so putting all my whining aside, today I got a reality slap. So real so deep I had to observe a minute of silence. One of my brothers, the eldest has up to now not been on social media. So today out of the blue, he appeared on my whatsapp and we had the usual brother sister banter. After the chat, i decided to check his profile picture. By the way i have not seen any image of my brother in six years. We just communicate on the phone, and you can imagine how deep that moment was. That one picture summarized my brothers last six years for me in one phrase. The Zimbabwean Struggle.

Staring back at me was a middle-aged Zimbabwean man, father to five. Skin singing tales of the savannah sun, eyes telling of a bitter truth, a life lived in struggle. But despite all the hardship that was embroidered on that face, the expression was happy.  How do they do that?

That picture was a reality slap for me, it vividly reminded me of how I came to study in Europe and of the cushioned life I have lived ever since. What will i say to him in a few days when i look at him? How do i even look him in the eye? Why is the world such a unlevel playing field? Why is my country in such a mess?

I am bleeding, and I don’t know to handle it. I am at a loss for words, my heart is breaking but I can not cry when i see them now can i. For i know only joy and sound of ululating will await me at the gates. Shall i wear mask while i die a thousand deaths inside? How,? How do you undertake a trip like this?

Oh well, love can only prevail right?

and where there is love there is hope and where there is hope there is a future.

Love will prevail.

Where there is love there is Hope

Where there is Hope there is a Future.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Cries of a Daughter 

My dear African family, just because l am in the diaspora does not mean my life is the yellow of an egg, in fact if l knew what l know now, l would have chosen to pursue my life goals in Bulawayo, a place called home, surrounded by family and friends.
Stop judging my life through the lens of my profile picture, it is but just a picture, taken from the best angle possible with the best lighting possible brushed off with the best filter possible to give the best illusion possible. Did l mention the makeup? Or how about the fake smile or pout l quickly erase as soon as the camera is out of focus.
Lets talk about finance. Just because l currently live in an economically sound country does not necessarily mean that my finances are in order. As a matter of fact l have to work twice as hard to have half of what my peers have. So stop sending the money requests because quite frankly between my bills and l, l have none.
Dear family, when was the last time you genuinely inquired on my being? I can now sing our telephone conversation like a bad jingle, because they are always the same, always. The usual how am l question which l can hardly finish answering before you have fired your next questions. The when am l finally finishing Uni question, or the most loved am l now working alternative. And last but not least, the when are you coming home question which is usually followed up by your amazingly expensive wish list. For starters l do not work at the Santa factory, and if l ever do get employed in the North pole rest assured l will hand deliver your wish list to Santa personally, how about that?
How about a genuine how am l question for once? How about a simple conversation for once with you indulging me in the details of your new finger licking recipe, sharing details on that new dance sending the youngsters on a frenzy, why don´t you tell me about that plan of yours? About that upcoming trip of yours?
Where is the love?
Where is the care?
Where is the Compassion?
Nonetheless, when it’s all said and done, we are still family, l will always love you dearly and put your first.