Her boyfriend is a cheater!!! I am a bystander

Ever met your girlfriend’s personal person with their side dish or probably its their main chick and that makes your friend the other woman? Im on it this time around, stay tuned.

After a couple of conversations with myself, l assured myself that l am not going to mess up someone’s daughter’s idea of a fairytale kinda like relationship because l saw her boyfriend in a questionable position. l am neither ready nor young enough for the unnecessary drama that will follow after playing the “concerned friend” role. I know its a story that my girlfriend wouldn’t want to hear late alone believe.

Her boyfriend is a cheat and l simply watch him playing the game.

Lets lay the cards on the table and trade carefully.

1.Who wants to be labelled a boyfriend snatcher

No one, right and not me either.

I definitely crush on people’s people (in a good way) sometimes but snatching people’s boyfriends is not my cup of coffe and l am not even willing to go the lengths, the heights or the lows of being labelled one. For the sake of my integrity and self respect. I am too young to feature on H-Metro’s front page and for that l will spare myself the drama.

2.Who wants to look like a fool?
You definitely don’t want to look like one and that’s my que too.

If you know Zvemoyo by Takura and Kana wazofunga by Qounfused ft Pah Chihera you will totally understand where l am coming from. At the end of the day when two people who share the world called ‘love‘ patch up their torn garments and find their way to each other’s arms, they will refer you as a traitor. I know ‘Mr Cheater’ will go by, “She is envious of our relationship babe, she wants to snatch away what we have“, and ‘Miss Manipulated’ will warm up with, “l know babe, she is jealous, l think she doesn’t like you“. At the end of the day l look like a damn fool with an Honors Degree in Breaking Relationships. No way, l am not up for that crap.

3.Who wants to sound bitter?
I see you don’t want to be part of the team and l wont tag along too.

In a world were single women are sometimes tagged angry and bitter, l don’t want to affirm that stupidity by sounding like l am bitter and angry too. Remember the weird face she gave you when you told her truth about his bae, remember how she fought you tooth and nail, remember how she defended her like you are the one who persisted to see him for who he is. You were left dumbstruck by how she didn’t hesitate to say, “you are mistaken, you probably have a problem with him l know nothing about and l can’t let you ruin our relationship to fancy your crazy ego”, she even added a rough accent to that. So tell me why should be part of this, l know for a fact that l can’t.

Sounds offensive? I know and l am sticking to that.

Side note: Dear girlfriend, l love you but l am always conquered by how people who are blindly in love can be easily manipulated by their partners to turn against those who want nothing but the best for them as way of covering up their dirty games. If you fail to read the signs, then you have to read in between the lines.

Own your space

Dear gourgeous you, yes you.
Own your space.
Circular, small or shapeless.
Who cares, no one right?
So, learn to own your space.
Not only with the defense of your words, Make your actions count too.
Know how, where and when to direct your energy.
Your can’t vibe with every soul that comes your way.
Protect and diligently guard your peace.

It took every part of your being to become healed, whole and live again.
Limbing your way to healing was not a walk in the park.
Being vulnerable in the face of a stranger was once a nightmare for you.
You took time counting the stars until you could narrate your story without being emotional.
The same goes for those that seek solace in your embeace, direct them into the path of healing.
They deserve the bitter truth that say, “Before you approach me, let your wounds heal first”.

Don’t allow there emotions of pain to trick you into becoming an enemy of your own heart again.
Don’t let the sweet tounge they inherited from there forefathers place you back to that dark hole you couldn’t escape.
You can’t allow people to bleed all over the place you tirelessly cleansed with your sweat.
You can’t be fooled into drawing back to the pages you flipped over.
Never let your hands soothe their broken hearts in the name of love.
Remember what they say, hurt people hurt people.

Your hands are not mearnt to unpack people’s baggage, therapy is.
Your heart is not a home for broken hearts, the therapist’s office is.
Your love language will not mend their messed up life, self love can.
Your arms can never embrace their insecurities but their need for healing can.
Own your space, yes that tiny little space you created for yourself.
Fill that space with self love and deeply nourish it with your love language.

The Virtue Of Respecting Women

I feel that the culture of respecting women and most importantly their space and bodies is slowing slipping out of our tiny fingers in the same way Ubuntu is walking down the memory lane. I have to admit for a fact that disrespect is one of the underlying factors leading to sexual harassment in the public spaces. You can never be charged guilty of harrasing a woman unless you disrespect the nature of womanhood. As l was reflecting on the 16 days of activism against Gender Based Violence and what these days means to me as a woman and as a women’s rights activist in particular, l discovered that sometimes abuse is perpetuated in the most subtle ways that society typically embodies as a social norm. It is the things that we deem small or irrelevant that contributes to the decay of our social values and principles as people. I even realized that what happens in public spaces is nothing less than a reflection of what transpires in private spaces. 

Growing up l was always taught about the value of respecting people’s personal space, whether it is my best friend, my sibling, my cousin or my colleague. My grandmother in her cultural capacity and awareness used to tell me about the importance of respecting my body and being bold enough to call out those who makes me feel uncomfortable. My grade 7 teacher who based her teachings on our African values, told me about the significance of maintaining distance and boundaries especially when engaging with my male counterparts. Do you still remember the ‘1m apart rule’, well if you forgot then l am here to remind you. Fast forward into university my social psychology lecturer taught me about proxemics that is based on spacial relationships in which he articulated the importance of maintaining public distance, social distance and and personal distance. The women’s rights fraternity later enlightened me on a subject called consent. All this was mearnt to protect me from vulnerability as a girl and as a young woman as well respecting my personal space. However, despite all these lessons, the value of respecting women seem to have get drenched by a sequence of cyclones that we experienced over the years.

I have always shared my hostile feelings about how l hate the invasion of my personal space with a couple of ladies in my circle and this conversation always emerged as one of those issues that intrigues a package of emotions. I remember one of my friends telling me about  how close she was to bash someone who had misbehaved with her in public. So you probably get to the rank and a random person grabs your hand and forces you to board a kombi that will not even reach your destination. You get on the streets and someone who doesn’t even know your last name or your grandmother’s address for that matter, gathers the audicity to touch your shoulder. And when you react to such annoying moves the same stranger come to you guns blazing with nasty comments of how lowly you behaviour or how ugly you are as if their attitude holds a cup of beauty or as if there us even a slice of humanity in their character. At 22, the idea of being at Mbare musika even at 12 pm shakes me to the core, passing through fourth street has become my greatest nightmare and l can’t even imagine myself standing at Mbudzi.

In all this, should l blame my society for failing to teach its sons the virtue of respect? Can l condemn our mothers for failing to nurture sincere and noble human beings ?Should l crucify the offsprings of this land for failing to contextualize the socialization that was channeled to bring the best out of them? Maybe l should question the accountability and transparency of the justice system in cases of sexual harassment? In quest of these answers l keep moving in circles. I can’t even point fingers on the school system for failing to mentor boys into men because for the same reason they still conduct the guidance and counseling sessions. To block my mind from being exploded by a dozen of unanswered questions l would like to believe that these perpetrators are the same guys who missed the essence of being a gentleman because they mocked the Toastmasters club and l guess they might be the same group of boys who skipped the social etiquette lessons.

The most disturbing part of this issue is that when such incidents occur no one seems to be bothered, everyone pretend to be too busy minding their own business. Whether it is the women in the market place, passengers in a bus or random people in the streets no one seems to care. If people manage to pay attention they will chant the behavior of the perpetrator or pass nasty comments towards the victim for being overactive and failing to cooperate with her abuser. In case the victim tries to raise her voice she becomes unfit to be called a woman because to society a woman should treasure silence as gold. It has become clear that rape culture is instigated by the behaviour of embracing social injustice that happens right in front of us. When we let these culprits get away with the offense of stripping our women’s dignity in commuter omni buses, at the bus terminus or in the main streets, how can we possibly hold them to account when they violate our rights in the closet. When we silence victims from calling out sexual harrasment, we are raising a generation of people who will never understand the virtue of respecting women.

The virtue of respecting women is a culture that should be inclusive of condoning violence, amplifying voices and teaching these boys how real men should behave with women.

The Art of Healing

Have you ever reached the breaking point? Have you ever drown in a pity party? When you feel that you can’t bottle your emotions even for another second? You let your tears gush out along with a bunch of mixed emotions soaked in bloody red. You hear the growing voices of your insecurities silently killing your hopes, dreams and aspirations. That moment when you allow the ‘strong woman’ in you to crumble into small little pieces. You allow your emotions to taunt your soul and let those feelings of despair get the best of you. Your denial for reality starts to blur and every dark color becomes more clear and vibrant. 

When life tends to be nightmare, you curse destiny for being unfair to you and you alone in a world full of billion souls. You blame yourself for stupidly falling in love with a jerk that never considered  the depth of your affection. You regret the days when you got betrayed and fooled by the people you thought would cross oceans for you. You hate yourself for being a woman, a woman that society does not spare a second to look back at. You fail to forgive yourself for the mistakes that you did because you were both young and naive. 

But guess what hun, it is in those moments that you realize the part that says happiness is you and its fruits lie in the hands of the person staring in the mirror. It is in those tough days, that you begin to understand the fact that apologies do not bring closure; it is the forgiveness that you extend towards those who never asked for it, that makes you whole again. It is the self love you nurture that allows you to become free from the burden of self hate. It is in that heart breaking moments when the bitter truths of having the sole responsibility to nurse your wounds with the same longing you have for closure and healing starts to hit you. 

That’s the art of healing and the journey of becoming a better you is deeply inscribed in the same art. With time you will start to share your story with same amount of tears you dropped when you broken and defeated, but in this case the tears will be beautifully decorated with color and glitters. The art of healing allows you to open up on issues you never dared to disclose even in your craziest moments. You start to own the journey and whether you crawl, walk or run what matters the most is the healing it brings. Let the showers of healing roll over your heart, tackle one issue at a time, nurse one heartbreak each season and allow your soul to embrace all your flaws as you walk through the journey of becoming a healthy soul.