Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, they say.

But the skin lightening or skin bleaching or skin-whitening craze that has hit most women in Harare, makes one think that saying should have been, “Beauty is when you are of lighter complexion.” The last time I visited the saloon, I just watched this craze in amazement. The hairdressers and some of the clients too, could easily be spotted with two varying complexions on their bodies. Their faces and necks are lighter – actually it’s more of an orange colour than not, as you go down to their feet you are greeted with a different darker colour which usually resembles their natural complexion. Skin lightening is common in many countries where many women view whiter skin as a symbol of beauty, health and high social status.

With these creams and lotions being sold in town on the roadside by street vendors on cardboard boxes and going for a dollar each, they are of easy access to the ladies (and some men too) who want them. The major brands on these roadside stalls are Movate and Diproson. I recently, pretended to be a customer. The vendor seemed to have got her marketing strategies right. She looked like a user of these creams, and had a friendly smile. I asked for the most effective lightening cream and she gave me Movate and told me if I wanted to bleach the whole body she also had tablets for sale! I pretended to look for my wallet, and after of few minutes of a fake search, I told her I couldn’t find it. I just didn’t want to part with my dollar for that. Too bad I couldn’t even treat myself with the usual ice cream I used to get from Dairiboard vendors on street corners.

Scientific research shows that the use of such creams and lotions frequently and at high doses increases the risk of skin cancer. This is because these products contain toxic mercury, hydroquinone and other potentially toxic substances that cause redness, itching, inflammation and other skin problems. As African governments and non-governmental organisations are busy campaigning for cancer awareness, as it’s a silent killer that has taken the lives of many, people are risking their lives by using these creams. It’s such a depressing scenario when you look at it closely.

I know of models from our African continent with dark complexions that have managed to take their professional career to an international level and are amongst the best models in the world. So as Zimbabwe turns 31, “Being black is not only powerful, but beautiful too” … Zimbabwean women embrace your natural complexions and love them because you are powerful and beautiful.

Another year, another Independence Day.  Although we’ve gone through quite a bit since our birth in 1980,  Zimbabwe is still finding her feet and there is plenty that she must learn.  I reckon that she is like a teenager.  Typically, headstrong and idealistic, obstinately pursuing impractical ideologies without thinking things through.  She is also prone to peer pressure and values the opinion of her African friends far too highly.  This relates closely to the adolescent angst she often displays.  It’s frequently provocative speeches, violent tendencies, recklessness and spurning the assistance of elders such as Great “Aunt” Britain.   In fact, in recent years she has also taken to mixing with the wrong crowd – those countries that other wiser nations are rightfully wearing of.

But I don’t want to make the mistake that some are guilty of when it comes to young people, by only focusing on Zimbabwe’s flaws.   After all, speaking the truth usually ignites rebellion from teenagers (and many an older person).  Our Independence Day is a time of celebration and to be grateful for the good things that we enjoy in this country.   For instance, everyday there are gorgeous sunrises caressing the Eastern Highlands and breathtaking sunsets over the Matobo Hills.  Despite all that we’ve been through we still have the zeal to live full and productive lives.  People continue to fall in love, beautiful babies are born every day, children laugh and play and once in a while we have cake as we sing “happy birthday”.

However, what really is exciting for me and certainly worth celebrating this Independence Day is Zimbabwe’s potential.  Right here and now, we really have all that it takes to make this country great.  So much more can be achieved given half the chance.

One day we will have an Independence Day where every citizen, of whatever affiliation, will celebrate true freedom from oppression and injustice and we’ll all enjoy the bountiful fruit that this land has to offer.  But until then, we’ll have a braai and share a cold one with family and friends, all in a relatively peaceful environment – a comfort that many people on this continent cannot take for granted.

Easter is almost upon us, where did the time go? It seems like we’ve only just taken down the Christmas tree! On the home front the kids and I are busily preparing maps of the garden for our Easter egg hunt, cards for the Easter bunny, cards for everyone who will be joining us for Easter lunch, a birthday card for cousin Stoff whose big day is tomorrow, a welcome home banner for granny who has been in Edinburgh for 6 weeks welcoming the newest addition to the family. Welcome Sean Thomas – although I had hoped you’d give your mother as hard a time as my first baby gave me – colic for 3 months, bags under the eyes and a trigger-happy temper, usually directed at dad. I am all artsy-fartsied out! We’ve done the paper mosaics, the painting, the pointillism (or something like it), the wax and paint, the fabric – I don’t have an original thought left in my head.  All this before I put the menu together. Both my husband and I are hospitality trained so the competition to be inventive is fierce when we decide to entertain. This doesn’t happen often, typically only 4 or 5 times a year; just imagine the production!

Can I also mention, before you think what a weed I am, that parallel to this artistic and culinary explosion, that the gate has stopped working. Beeper, electrics, lights and all. The roof over the spare bedroom collapsed (bringing down the fascia boards and the gutters and breaking several tiles – which, I discover are no longer in production, and I am blithely told to re-do the whole roof, it’s only about $30,000 – pocket change!). Then I drove over Daniel’s bicycle (one fairy wheel badly damaged, mom’s reputation irreparable – oh the accusation in those eyes!). And my oven has stopped working (I suspect sabotage).

Sometimes everything seems to go wrong and it is hard to keep your focus on the things that are really important. So I will try to keep my eyes on the prize – a gathering of friends and family, my children’s squeals of delight as they find their eggs, and a feast to mark the end of Lent – which I have started with a plate full of treats from friends down the hallway. I am eyeing the Cadbury’s Easter egg lasciviously … but I shall force myself to finish my cornflakes first. Must be my Catholic upbringing.

What does it mean to be Zimbabwean? If propaganda and political rhetoric from Our Dear Leader and his cohorts are to be believed it means winning a medal at some sporting event while, say, swimming or playing cricket for Zimbabwe. For those of us who are under achievers, or lazy, it means being black. I cannot help but feel that Zimbabwe is further away from resolving its racial issues than it was at Independence. Being born-free, and a member of the generation that attended private school without there being a quota system that mandated my presence, being Zimbabwean meant simply a love for my country and the things that make it unique. That is not to say that we weren’t aware of the cultural difference between races – we were.  But back then, it was ok to discuss them, to explore our individual identities within the context of our group identity as Zimbabweans, now it’s considered racist.

I think Zimbabwe is far from being post racial. I think there are those of us who in our heads, there are friends who I hang out with, who are definitely post racial in their outlook, but I think we’ve still got a lot of issues to deal with. There’s no doubt about it…racial issues and class issues. I’m not sure, but I think the last ten years have in some ways dragged us backwards, and in others have dragged us forwards. Dragging us backwards, there does seem to be more racial tension here now than there was when I was growing up. It’s definitely because of all the hate propaganda, the political propaganda that gets spewed in the state media. In how it’s dragged us forward, I think it’s made those who believe in Zimbabwe have to fight for it, be they black white or coloured, and that’s hopefully brought people closer together. At the same time Zimbabweans in the Diaspora, black, white: all these middle class kids who’ve gone abroad, connecting with their Zimbabweans identity. They grew up here and wanted to go away as quickly as possible, and then they go over there and try to find their identity and realize what connections they’ve got back here. There are interesting things that come out. You’ve got white kids in London who’ve got an mbira punk band and things like this that you end up appreciating what you have when you’re far away [from home].
- Comrade Fatso.

Read the full interview with Comrade Fatso here.

Tired of life in Harare, a friend and I decided to take a weekend trip out of town to Mwanga Lodge and Bally Vaughn Animal Sanctuary. Happily we ran into these three Zebras, and found the answer to that question people always ask about them: they’re white with black stripes.

Rumours of a revolution in Zimbabwe have been greatly exaggerated. Filled with hope but little practical knowledge, several unidentified groups took to Facebook in an attempt to replicate the Egyptian revolution here. These attempts have failed because as Ghandi says ‘Revolution has had no blueprint, and all the blueprints that were written before a revolution never proved true.’

In my recent interview with Professor John Makumbe, this is what he had to say about the failed Facebook attempt:

It failed because everybody knew it was organised from the Diaspora, and the Diaspora has no business organising people in Zimbabwe. It is when people organise through cyberspace in Zimbabwe so that the cyberspace communication is reinforced by clandestine on the ground assurance that things will happen. People are very keen to do it, but they will not do it without knowing someone who is going to be part of it, or someone who is organising it, or someone to whom they will cry if things don’t go well. And it must be someone local. Not someone toying with cyberspace in the Diaspora from the comfort of one bedroom with a large screen television in the hope that they can mobilise the poor people to hit the streets. From there no!