When I was a little girl of just four, I remember the family maid calling me to the spare bedroom to play a game with her. The game, she explained, would entail her lying down on the spring base single bed  and me jumping over her stomach.

Initially, I had concerns that such a game would cause her pain. But, in the way that only four-year olds can be convinced, she reassured me that the game would not hurt her at all and that it would instead be a good workout for her belly.

Somewhere in my mind, I can still hear the sound of those springs squealing as I jumped away to my heart’s content.

Recounting the new game to my mother that evening however,  put an end to it immediately.  It also put an abrupt end to Sisi Anna’s job.

A few months later, we heard that Anna had given birth to a healthy baby girl, thereby bringing unspeakable shame to her family who had already cast her off as a moral felon.

Her crime?

Anna was unmarried and the father of her child, who was apparently the married gardener from a few houses away, was refusing to take responsibility.

I am still filled with abhorrence at the thought of the role that Anna had wished me to play as her abortionist.

But with the passage of the years, I have grown to appreciate what levels of  desperation and despair must have led her to approach a clueless little child to assist her in finding a way out of her predicament.

Make no mistake; I don’t condone the measures that she took, especially since they involved an innocent party, myself. Rather, I am more open to understanding why she took such recourse.

Abortion is a topic that leaves a sour taste on many people’s tongues.

Walk the streets of Harare in Zimbabwe and you will come across many metallic placards featuring messages against the act, even citing biblical scripture about the detestability of murder in God’s eyes.

But just as we moralise and rationalise on end about whether or not sex work represents deviant behaviour, and whether or not it should be decriminalised, we go down the same torturous path when it comes to the abortion debate.

And the simple truth – as with sex work – is that regardless of the discourse and debates that take place, abortions continue to happen, whether sanctioned by the state, or deemed illegal.

Every day, young women all over Africa are having abortions.

According to research released by the Guttmacher Insitute last year, 5.6 million abortions were carried out in Africa in 2003. Only 100 000 of these were performed under safe conditions – that is, by individuals with the necessary skills, and in an environment that conformed to minimum medical standards.

And with only three African countries (Cape Verde, South Africa and Tunisia) giving unrestricted legal access to abortion to women, it would be safe to assume gross underreporting when it comes to figures pertaining to rates of abortion on the continent.

I’ll give a practical example of why I believe this is so.

Some years ago, when I was in university and living in a hostel, one of my hostel mates had an unsafe abortion. She told no one about it until she was forced to. Having  bled continuously for three weeks and in the process having exhausted her supply of sanitary ware at a time when this was a scarce commodity in Zimbabwe, she was forced to confide in a few of us that she needed help.

It’s not that we couldn’t tell that she was unwell. She had stopped interacting with anyone and when she surfaced in the communal bathrooms she looked wan and weak.

But finally, she decided to break her silence and share that she’d visited an old woman who’d given her a tablet to take for her ‘condition’. This tablet, my hostel mate, confided, made her uterus burn with acid pain and soon, she began to bleed.

She bled for all of a month and prohibited us from telling the matrons or even seeking medical assistance for her. All we could do was supply her with iron tablets, cotton wool and pads and eventually even mutton cloth to help her cope with the bleeding.

And that abortion, as well as many others, was not ever officially registered.

Why, you might ask, would women go to such desperate lengths to have an abortion?

For many young women, the cultural stigma of being an unwed mother is so strong that they feel they have to go to any length to avoid bringing shame and disgrace to their families in this way. A few years ago, a family friend committed suicide because her boyfriend had disowned the five-month-old foetus burgeoning within her womb. In her note to her parents she stated that it would be better that she died than bring humiliation to their Christian name.

Inherent in this cultural stigma is often the desertion of the partner or male responsible for the pregnancy, thus relegating the woman to position of a single mother.

And let’s not also forget that sometimes, a pregnancy is unexpected and unwanted and that the woman decides that she is simply not prepared for motherhood.

I doubt that this is ever an easy decision, but it is surely made more difficult not only by the lack of access to services such as hygienic abortions and counselling, but also by patriarchal hegemony that still prescribes the roles of women in society (ie. if you are unmarried you have no right to know anything about sex, let alone have a child).

Also, I am sure that the social perception of contraceptives, particularly condoms( which research has shown diminish in levels of usage as a relationship grows) plays a large role in the frequency of unprotected sexual acts, thereby putting women at risk of unplanned pregnancy as well as a host of other sexual infections.

Culture is the cohesive glue that binds communities together, but for many women, it is the hangman’s noose on which their freedoms are choked.

As I write, I wonder whatever became of Anna and her daughter; whether she grew to accept the child that separated her from her family; or whether her family ever took her back into their fold.

It is indeed a tragedy that so many women have to sacrifice one thing or the other for the sake of saving face in society.

For us, freedom and parity are still but utopian concepts.

We were recently invited to a crusade at our local police station.  The main speakers at the crusade were Sergeant Zimbeva and Sergeant Sibanda. My wife was skeptical.

“Do police officers actually go to church?” she enquired.

I told her there is no way of knowing who is a teacher, who is a nurse or who is a police officer at Sunday service. Her skepticism was based on the deplorable behavior of police officers: At best it is not Christian and at its worst, it is criminal. I have always known that public perception of police officers was not good, but I did not know it went as far as bunching them up into a group of heathens.

There were powerful messages at the crusade, like Word Power, A glimpse into the Future, Why so Much Suffering, One Life that Changed the World, Created for Eternity, Right and Wrong – Does it Really Matter and many other messages. Those two police officers who were doing most of the preaching were not the cocky, arrogant, corrupt, violent officers we see on a daily basis.

We stay close to a police station and we witness the rotten behavior of police officers on a daily basis: the constant arrest and beating up of people by the police at the shops, apparently for public drinking. But then we see police officers drinking and urinating right in front of our children. We see police officers setting up roadblocks a few meters from the police station for the purposes of collecting bribes from emergency taxi drivers. The police officers move in droves whenever they are broke and are in search of bribes, but do not take on actual crime: when there was a spate of muggings in our area, about fifty meters from the police station, we reported the matter to the police. They did nothing, did not even bother posting a patrol.

A cell phone recently disappeared at the small shop that I run. The young woman who had lost her cell phone reported the matter to the police. Three male police officers came to the shop to ‘investigate’. After they had left, it was generally agreed that the police officers were being so diligent because a beautiful young woman had reported the case. They were interested in sleeping with her but not the case was the general opinion. I suggested that the main problem was that Zimbabweans do not know the law. Someone countered by saying that it does not matter whether you know the law or not, because the law is not followed.

I found this rather disturbing. Does the Minister of Home affairs, well, the Minister(s) of Home Affairs actually . . . do they know that the police officers out there do not have a shred of dignity? I guess the police need to do a lot of public relations. The logical starting point would be doing their job and doing it properly.

Prostitution is a profession as old as the human race. It has always been a wrong act, abominable in society. Today we cannot say the same in some countries where prostitutes are legally licensed to operate. Whether prostitutes should be allowed or not is not my subject for debate, at least for now.

It is wrong to punish John for Peter’s crime. In that regard, I wish to enquire if the police in Zimbabwe have tangible evidence against men whom they allege to be loitering for the sake of prostitution. It is now common knowledge to city men that during the evening some places have to be avoided for fear of being arrested. At the end of the day it automatically becomes a crime to walk through these places at night.

When one gets arrested he is automatically accused of loitering for the purpose of prostitution and I wonder how the police arrive at these conclusions just automatically. The police make men pay fines. However, when the men do not have money they spend nights in custody or are sent to court later. Considering that prostitution is a commercial practice – we even call the prostitutes “commercial sex workers” – is it not common sense that whoever is soliciting would have money for that purpose? If that person does not have cash at hand how would he have hired the service?

The courts prosecute poor people who do not have cash at hand, and who might not even have succeeded in the endeavor even if they wished to, because they have no money. Surely no man can intend to engage commercial sex workers without cash? In fact the real culprits come with their cars, pick up prostitutes and go. There is little ability to arrest such people since most of the police involved usually move around on bicycles. Surely the poor are paying for the wrong they never did, and the rich are guilty and yet go free?

My morning yesterday at HIFA was filled with a sense of awe when I attended a play titled “The Woman Who Didn’t Belong To A Political Party”. I absolutely loved this play. It is really about what Mbuya Nehanda went through and that she gave birth to a spirit of resistance that ushered in a new Zimbabwe. I must honestly say that being born in Bulawayo I have always seen her as a Shona people heroine more than an Ndebele people one. But I changed that view now that I know that her selfless act was for all Zimbabweans young or old, black or white who now live together as one. What made me see things differently in this play is that it is done by cast members from Bulawayo.This made me really realize that Mbuya Nehanda’s story is relevant to all Zimbabweans at large. Its a pity that their show is now finished because I would have really loved the young people of this generation to see it and maybe they would see things differently . . . that its ok to do good; praises can still be sung about you long after you are gone.

I knew that HIFA opening nights don’t disappoint – the same for this year! I was there and I don’t know about you but I was not disappointed; HIFA always finds something untamed for the opening. However as much as I saw the effort and time it took for the production to take place I did not get it. Maybe its because I am not a classical music person or something. On Tuesday not only did I get to watch international and local artists, I had the privilege of speaking with the people that make HIFA what it is. It was my understanding from these conversations that people are hungry for entertainment and HIFA is just the remedy. In particular I think people got their medication all right with Prudence and the Liyana band brewing up a storm. I felt challenged, I was in a stupor, and I just did not know what to do they were So Good. As if that was not enough for the music lovers, after Prudence performed there was a Bira held at the Global Stage. All the Bira lovers rushed there and I a reliable source told me that it ended at 3am in the morning! And it was still packed up. Harare is ALIVE. To all of those who have not put a foot on the HIFA grounds, you are missing out so go there and enjoy. There are still four days of entertainment.

A few years ago Kubatana started our series of Inside/Out interviews. The interviews are short and sharp and are based on a set of random questions, some flippant, like what’s in your pockets right now, to more serious stuff like, who inspires you?

Quite often people tell us that they Love these interviews because they allow for a different perspective on people; that they both amuse and give pause for reflection.

A few people that we’ve approached for an Inside/Out interview have point blank refused. Is it a case of over sized NGO egos refusing to slip their suits for awhile I’ve wondered?

In any case, our information assistant Upenyu Makoni-Muchemwa recently had the pleasure of interviewing the completely fabulous and amazing Mary Robinson, the first woman President of Ireland (1990-1997) and former United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (1997-2002). Mary and six international women leaders are visiting Zimbabwe to support and strengthen women’s role in governance and in the constitutional review process.

Apparently when Mary was asked to have some fun with our Inside/Out questions she was more than willing! Here’s what Upenyu had to say about her experience of interviewing Mary:

I had heard of Mary Robinson spoken of in lofty intellectual tones, as the High Commissioner for Human Rights, former President of Ireland and an intellectual. While conducting research in preparation for my interview, the image I had formed of a stern staid woman who took herself seriously was cemented in my mind. With her considerable academic and political achievements, I thought, how could she not be? The Mary Robinson I interviewed was none of these things. She was earnest and forthright in her answers, taking time to think carefully about what I asked her before she answered.  I found her to be warm, and a person who truly believed in what she was doing, and in the women with whom she is working. The Inside/Out interview reminded me that she was just as human as I was, sharing the same fears, like the loss of family members, as many of my other interviewees.

Kubatana will be publishing a full interview with Mary soon but in the meantime here we go Inside/Out with her.

Inside/Out with Mary Robinson
28 April 2010

Describe yourself in five words?
I am an activist.

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
I’ve received a lot of good advice – I didn’t always take it. I think it’s to develop my whole potential.

What’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done?
I once went to a party of an American friend, disguised in a wig and a big bosom. I got away with it for the whole evening.

What is your most treasured possession?
This ring that my husband gave me on our fifteenth wedding anniversary and we are now in our fortieth year. It is very old and its a flower. If you are free you have it the other way around. It dates from 1770; we were married in 1970. He’s a very sentimental man, my husband, I’m glad to say.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
I think the invisibility of people who are suffering terribly, whether they are suffering because of poverty or they are torture victims.

Do you have any strange hobbies?
I like walking; when I’m in Ireland I walk a lot in the woods around my family home.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
My hair. I don’t have good African hair; I have to keep putting curlers in it.

What is your greatest extravagance?
I’m not a great shopper, so my greatest extravagance is books. Right now I’m reading a novel about the Spanish civil war.

What have you got in your fridge?
That’s my weakness. You see it’s my husband who knows more about what’s in the fridge.

What is your greatest fear?
That something terrible could happen to an immediate member of my family. I’m a grandmother and I have four grandchildren. Family is very precious.

What have you got in your pockets right now?
Tissues.

What is your favourite journey?
Going home. Crossing Ireland to County Mayo, my mood instantly lifts. I’ve been outside Ireland now for five years in Geneva, working for the United Nations, and seven years in New York. At the end of this year I go home. I’m looking forward to that. I have very strong local agricultural reference points, and that’s very important when you’re trying to understand land issues. Being Irish I have a particular understanding of land issues because we had to fight the colonial power, which was Britain, and assert our Land Rights.

Who are your heroes in real life?
Like many people its Nelson Mandela. Being one of his Elders I’m part of a group that he brought together. He’s an extraordinary man. Archbishop Tutu is another favourite of mine. Also a lot of women that I’m encountering, including Nyaradzai, I’ve learnt so much from her.

When and where were you happiest?
I am happiest in my own home with my family.

What’s your biggest vice?
I would say the preoccupation with self. If somebody is in political life, they have an ego.

What were you like at school?
I was a tomboy with my brothers. I was very active in school; I wanted to be involved in things.

What are you doing next?
I am going back to Ireland and I will be creating a foundation on Climate Justice.