The funeral

You sat there wondering what your funeral would look like. Obviously, nothing like Davidzo’s as he had chosen the most untoward part. Internally many parts of you were fuming, at yourself and at Davidzo. You hated yourself for not fully grasping why he had chosen to end himself, especially the way he did. The humming and light singing punctuated by sobs did nothing to help you process your thoughts and emotions. This was the part you would be planning to give the best friend’s speech, in any normal funeral proceeding. But this, this wasn’t normal, and they treated it as such.

You stood there; hands tightened into fists a futile attempt at holding in your emotions. All while recalling the things you would have wanted to say if they weren’t rushing to throw Davidzo away. Before the talking got monotonous, or tears cut you halfway you wanted to make sure everyone knew he was not a coward. If only they knew how much of a good fight he had tried so hard to fight, they would do things differently. You wondered if there was a way to tweak culture and tradition a bit, this one time so that he could receive a dignified burial. There wasn’t anyone you could ask. Besides, it was a known fact that anyone who died by suicide would be thrown away like trash. He knew, and you had talked about it on occasion. The remainder of the old patriarchs in the family stood supported by their weathered but shining walking sticks, stern faced watching the proceedings. Sekuru Gutu, in his white beard and checkered suit, was the one rushing the program. You had met him on occasion as he used to show up at Davidzo’s home every month as he would come to collect his rentals. He was the oldest brother in his mother’s family, and seemingly the only one well versed with funeral rites and traditions as he detailed the dos and don’ts.

He had been the one to lead the dare a few hours after you had found Davidzo on the floor, hands clutching his tummy as if he had been writhingly in pain. No suicide note, just a bottle of Rattol and plans for the evening that would never be. You desperately wanted to know why he chose such a violent ending; you wondered if there weren’t any methods less painful but equally effective. Close to midnight on the very same Tuesday Davidzo committed suicide, Sekuru Gutu called the dare, typically Davidzo’s father or his brothers would have been the ones to do so as Davidzo belonged to them, but he was too shaken to do so, and his brothers on the other hand were fuming. Bamunini Josphat, the youngest caused scenes two days in a row.

“Hakuna mhofu inozviuraya, maiguru taurayi kuti mwana uyu ndewekupi.” He roared drunk and barely able to stand on his feet.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered under your mask as they pulled the casket out of the hearse and the wailing increased. You only hoped none of the women would take this as a dress rehearsal for Shakespeare and throw themselves to the ground wailing. Davidzo hated that part of funerals with a passion.

You stood there, barely holding up, readying to carry what remained of your best friend to his final resting place. Perhaps, his first resting place. You scanned the compound for his mother and spotted her head down, guarded by her youngest brother and two women in church uniforms. Again, Davidzo wouldn’t have wanted this to be a church funeral, but he wasn’t one to decide at this point.

“Vakomana, takurai bhokisi munoisa pamusoro pemusha. Tendererai nekuseri kwemusha uko mweya usapinda mumusha. (Boys, carry the casket and place it on top of the grave. Circle around the compound so that the spirit of the deceased does not infiltrate the compound.” Sekuru Gutu commanded.

You chuckled helplessly as you realized how all things Davidzo were lost right in this moment. Yes, he had “killed himself”, but did that really mean he couldn’t be afforded the decency of a night in his mother’s living room? Heck a simple moment of body viewing even?

Mental health, PTSD and suicide prevention. Post-traumatic stress disorder concept

“He did not kill himself” you thought to yourself. But then how were you going to explain this to the people who believed he was a coward who took the easy way out? How were you going to explain that he was so sick he couldn’t live with himself anymore? How would you explain the way you chose to understand it, that maybe the depression, anxiety and panic attacks had eaten him from the inside and he saw this as the best he could do for himself in that moment?

“Fuck!” you muttered under your breathe, partly because the casket was heavy and mostly because you couldn’t bear hearing his mother sob and scream uncontrollably. A few more people followed behind with all his belongings, ironically, he went to the grave with everything he owned. She would have wanted there to be a body viewing, she had even asked with you backing her, but Sekuru Gutu was adamant it was against tradition and that Davidzo had committed one of the greatest sins. You wondered how you were going to believe. Perhaps seeing his face in there would have made it real for you. His mother asked how she would know that was really her son, maybe they changed bodies after she had left the funeral parlor. No one cared to listen to the words of a woman possibly running amok because of grief. You complied and followed the funeral proceedings, after all you were an outsider. At least they placed flowers on the mound of red earth under which they buried him.

two carnations lie on a marble tombstone.

You are home now.

Ten years. Ten years and home still smelt the same. Tammy looked up, smiled at the clear blue sky, and then took a deep breathe. She pulled her mask up and thought to herself how so far, the only thing that had changed was the name of the airport. She wondered just how many more things had stayed the same from the time she left.

Stock photo of unrecognized afro woman with suitcase using her phone.

A taxi driver pulled up in front of her, and she motioned for her two suitcases and duffle bag that sat on the trolley she was standing next to as she walked to the car. She’d carried four pieces of luggage because she left in a haste, there was literally no time to pack things up, fold clothes, put shoes in one corner and the gifts she’d gathered over the years in another. She had been hesitant on calling Dana to come pick her up, and she had decided that she would stay in a hotel until she was ready to let her family know she was back home. She wasn’t ready for the crying that would take place once she got home, then the singing and ululating, the calls to her relatives that she was home, the nagging as to why she hadn’t told them she was coming earlier.

A few days of peace and quiet was all she needed before she got to see her family once again. A few days of putting things into perspective, crying her tear ducts dry over the death of her father, though long happened and the freshest wound; what could have been with Ola. Ten years, and it was a heartbreak that got her on the next flight to Zimbabwe. She laughed at herself. How could she not? The only consolation this far, was being far away from Ola. Over the next three weeks, she would change to a local phone number, deactivate her socials, just in case he went that far trying to talk to her. But what were the odds he would regret what he had done and reach out asking for forgiveness, asking to her back together again. She swore not to check her email, just in case he wrote there too, and to avoid work messages too. This was the ultimate vacation she needed. 

The taxi driver hopped into his seat, and peeped at her through the view mirror. He greeted her, and asked where she was going. She mumbled Holiday Inn under her breath, and put her shades on. She did not want any weird eye contact or for him to see her tears whenever her heart would give out. She kept playing around with her phone, scrolling through the thousands of pictures. She had spent the past two days deleting Ola and hers pictures, many times stopping to sob. This heartache wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. Her gallery once filled with thousands of beautiful pictures of her Ola, was almost empty. That didn’t matter now, she was in the last place he’d ever come for her. She needed this, she needed to be home. Clear blue skies , fresh air, godly weather later her older sister and mother. Over the years, she’d forgotten just how everything was better with them. How the first time she’d gone through a break up, her mom and sister laughed at her crying and declarations that they would get back together with Lunga. They never did. 

She hoped home was the same place, the sane place. Hoped that it was as joyful as she remembered, love overflowing as it had always done. Then, and now that her father had passed. She hoped that his absence wouldn’t be so loud, and she would not dread being at home as much as she did. Ten years later, she hadn’t processed his death, and avoided home like the plague, but she was back her anyway. Her mother made it easier by not pressuring her to come home. But she did tell her over and over that she how dearly she missed him. Perhaps that was her way of letting her know what grieving was like for her. She wondered if the events of the past week were written in some star, that she’d have to lose the last thing that gave her a morsel of sanity for her to come running back home. To confront her demons, to confront her loss. 

“Do you go as far as the other end of Samora?” she asked the taxi driver and he nodded. 

“Please head to Mount Pleasant then.” to which he nodded again. 

2022; the and

Dear Reader,

Welcome to my blog, if you are new here please catch up on all the fun stuff that has happened over the past two years. If you are an oldie, dive in.

This article is a follow up of sorts to the very first blog I wrote this year prompted “2022, What’s Changed?” Since I opened the year with a blog post, I thought why not close it the same?

2022 has been massive, it has been fun, more laughter less sorrow type of thing. I have enjoyed most of my days here, I think I could order a rerun. When the year started I wrote a 2022 resolutions in my Notes app and there was one bold statement, “To be HAPPY.” I really saw that through.

First things first, I saw Tems in 3D, I have been a staunch believer since then. Each time I hear “Crazy Tings” play, my mind takes me to the moment I stood in the crowds as she performed a few meters away from me. That was really one of my happiest moments, and in that instant I thought life wasn’t really that bad.

I existed on a little corner of the internet where i met people with similar interests, thought processes and they came together to build a mini community. For the most part, that was the biggest highlight of my year cause I spent most of my time online. It has been a full circle moment because we are in a place where we forget the rest of the world exists. Echo chambers>>>>. However, the rude awakening is quite rude because in real life you are met with sexism, misogyny, homophobia etc and you’re surprised that people still think like this. Why are all the progressive thinkers internet moots and not in real life moots?

Where I am at the end of this year isn’t something I had ever imagined. Who I am as a person too. I didn’t see much of this coming, there was a point the vision was a blur and I’m glad it was. Even right now, I’m just glad to be here. From having detailed hopes and aspirations to taking life one day, on huddle, one course, one week at a time and not obsess much over the future. Learning that I’m not in control of every single thing has been freeing. I do the best of what I can, and whatever unravels, unravels. While I do have an idea of what I would want the following year(s) to look like, I’ve also become comfortable with discovering as things unfold. The unpredictability of the past two years have come with quite some insights and character development.

I had to get comfortable with doing “nothing” or rather being unproductive as dictated by capitalist standards. While I was making progress as a writer, writing and publishing more on my blog, that wasn’t the case in many other spheres. For many things I had no plan. For my future, even the way the year ended, I had no plan. I did yearn for some normalcy. This period taught me to be ok with not having it all figured out. It taught me to embrace doing nothing, cause sometimes nothing is all you need to be doing. Sometimes you don’t have to get rewards for the things you do, and that was hard for me to acclimatize to cause I’ve always been used to being handed back grades, or get paid or get praises for efforts I put in.

Not a lot of that happened during the first half of this year. Most of my time I spent with friends and family, doing nothing of importance. While seemingly insignificant, those times carried me throughout the year. I was either visiting my friends at UZ, joking around the whole day or watching social soccer (maboozer) with my other friends, or at home with my three year old niece. These were the highlights of the first half. For once, I wasn’t in a race to get somewhere or something. Despite the uncertainty at that time, I loved the pace at which my life was moving.

One thing though, is that I rediscovered some things that I loved. I got the opportunity to play Handball again, even though the memory was short lived, it’s one of the best things that ever happened to me this year. I could feel the warmth radiating from my inner child’s smile.

I am most proud of my writing this year, it was the one thing I consistently put effort into. My blog has been doing good, and so far 2022 has been the best year. I really appreciate everyone who took their time to read the items I write. I also ventured into poetry, because, well- I had a lot of words and time on my hands. I took my writing to the next level and entered two competitions, both of which I did not win, and it felt good to push my writing beyond my usual audience. I look at my first blog article, and the ones coming after that and I can sense the growth in me as a writer.

There was a hint of normalcy in 2022 as it followed the biggest pandemic of our lives. Things slowly started going back to the way they used to be, there were a bit of less disruptions and quite a lot of attuning to the “new normal”. On my end, the year wasn’t as hectic. I was able to catch my breathe after the hectic two years that started March 2020. I’m content with what this year gave, and the things it took.

Now looking at the following calendar change, I look at it as just that. Its another year of doing a bit too much for people existing on a rock floating on water. I have obligations to fulfill and I intend to do everything in my power to see these things through. I still maintain my aspiration to be happy. I intend to continue writing, as it is one of the many things that make me happy. I do hope for a good year, good love, great friendships and the best of what the unknown has to offer.

I want to know

Each night that you lock yourself in the closet when the sun goes down and the moon barely illuminates the sky

cry, tired of confronting demons and all

the heart numb, beating right onto the ribcage, so much their delicate pattern is imprinted on the crimson smithereens

stomach in knots

a bonded chest

so struggling to breath

the only retreat you’ve ever been deserving of is one into your thoughts in the solitude and silence of the night

if they do exist, are they not tired too?

of your snorty nose, silent sobs and hysteria

are they laying there grinning

at the sound of a breaking heart that knows one thing and does it so well the fragments no longer care to come back together.

Introduction to Adulting (a mini rant)

Hello dear reader, welcome to my blog. If you are a regular, thanks for passing by again, and if you are new I hope you like it here. . Well, this is a random article that came to me after a night out with friends (not the Global Citizen Festival where I got to see Temilade and SZA in 3D) . Fun Fact: I’m not really an introduction on blogs person, it makes me feel like a Youtuber so I normally use them as a way to actually start writing an article after a period of writer’s block. They say writing, in any manner and any content helps with writer’s block and I’ve realized this helps too.

I am at a very weird age, and so are most of the people around me. Its like we are in an Introduction to Adulting 101 course. The way life comes at you so fast never ceases to amaze me. One second ago, I was in kindergaten, building blocks, colouring and napping every afternoon and my life right now is solving equations, writing essays and barely catching an ounce of sleep. The transition is so unreal. Growing up has always been something I have looked forward to. I feel like life is structured such that you are always looking foward to the next day next stage so much mostly because there is some sort of promise of happiness, success; I do not know. It has always been looking foward to high school to looking forward to college to looking forward to working and for some looking forward to marriage. We are here ticking boxes for milestones and going through massive character development as we wait to die. You would even think that at some point a little past or at the end of the teens, theres a switch for the insanity to kick it. But really, thats neither here of there, my point is; I find this pre adulting or trial run of adulting quite intriguing for a good number of reasons.

Pink button with white lettering that says “Adulting is Hard” on white fur background

First things first, these are the years we question most of what we have known, well thats for most. Slowly you discover that you do not really need to have concrete views, or have everything figured out. The dust settles as life goes on, new life experiences open our minds. No lie, it is such a scary experience, questioning in detail all the things that you have been taught life wise because for the most part you can’t argue with Physics formulae much and win. To some extent, the culture we exist in isn’t very accomodating where it concerns questioning beliefs and systems. This business of trying to find your bearing with religion, gender, sexuality, careers etc is way easier if you are taking the conventional path that is mostly sticking to traditional views and methods. Its like trying to make your way out of a very comfortable cacoon and attempting to face life and the world head on. A whole overhaul in perception and is rarely welcome, sometimes by ourselves but mostly by those around us. This is such a significant drawback to growth, and having alternative views and striving to align with them is top two of adulting challenges.

The character development that comes with introduction to adulting is surreal. More and more of our life is shoved right into our hands albeit without our consent. Its like being alive is enough consent. The age comes with more responsibility, for one’s wellbeing, actions and future. You find yourself dealing with the uncertainties of the world, and this time around you’re the one to come up with solutions to the problems. The COVID Era has been one of the heaviest introductions to adulting because the world as we knew and forecasted it has shifted so much these past years. Perhaps more than we would like to admit, even more than we perceive at the moment. That is just one of the jarring introduction to adulting challenges. There is financial responsibility in this messed up capitalist world. On the other end academic pressure does not stop firing. Its also the age of dabbling in dating and relationships; a heartbreak or two here and there. There is resounding failure and so much heartbreak possibly waiting, and somehow we’re supposed to figure things out and like show up as fully functioning adults. I wouldn’t exactly sign me out but I just-

I’m done adulting! Let’s be Unicorn! – shocking pink unicorn saying lettering poster. Funny typography with unicorn quote – card design. Horse with horn character for girls and women. Rainbow colors.

The world is a terribly crazy place to be a part off. Its difficult to wrap my head around how life demands so much from us, circumstances and stuff. The craziest of all crazies being leaving familiar territory. That is literally a core requisite of adulting in most cases, from leaving home towns to different cities to ‘settling’ in wholly different countries and continents. Its a sign of growing up you know, the whole a bird leaving its nest type of thing. Leaving home is exciting, however staying away from home for long periods of time isn’t as dazzling. Sometimes, its circumstances beyond one’s control, moving to whole different countries, navigating time zones, lifestyle and acclimatizing to the change. Thank God for technology because I can only imagine what it was like back in the day when you had to communicate with loved ones through letters, going weeks and months on end not knowing how they are doing. But again, thats neither here nor there. I’m just saying the changes that come with adulting can really be a lot.

This is all just a tip of the iceberg in my introduction to adulting, mostly stuff that I muse over randomly. Its not really as gloomy as it sounds, but when the going gets hard these are the things that remind me how unreal this whole pre-adulting phase is. On random days I remind myself that non of this really matters, and that I don’t really have to have everything figured out, thats literally what the years are for. Anyways, this is me signing of my mini-rant with a quote I saw from Mel; “There are years that ask questions, and the years that answer.” CIAO…………..

All I Know

all I know is that stories like ours end in heartbreak
they never make it to the greatest loves of all time
no matter how passionate or intentional we are
the love simply isn’t enough.

you know when they ask me to write love stories
they always end in tears
that’s all I know
that’s the ultimate outcome.

so pardon me,
for being a coward, and a pessimist
at the very thought of the possibility of our love story
i think of how things will end
all i know is i don’t wish to cry tears on you.