I was having a tough time and needed to clear my mind and fill myself up again with what I care about. I have learned over the years how to look after myself and my work, and know that at a certain point it’s good to go off and find a different road. It is a matter of stopping and refuelling, filling yourself up again before you lose all feeling. Bringing yourself back.

Sound familiar?

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There was a time when Zimbabwean women had to be extremely careful about how they dressed in public. Cover up, or they (men) would take it off. Wearing wrap-over skirts, shorts and, of course, mini-skirts was just asking for trouble. Even tight fitting hipsters were a big no-no.

Recently it seemed that women were more able to dress liberally in the central business district (CBD). Women of all ages, shapes and sizes wear tight trousers, squeeze into skinny jeans, dress in short ‘dress-tops’ with leggings or jeggings, and even shorts now, without fearing for their safety. As the temperatures have risen, so have the hemlines, so I was very shocked with what I saw only this morning. It would seem that history is repeating itself, and we women have to once again BEWARE OF WHAT WE WEAR in town.

I was on my way to work this morning and as the combi drew closer to the rank, there was a sudden traffic-jam, indicating that something had just happened. In the distance a crowd could be heard, whistling, shouting, and laughing. Everyone seemed to be focussed on a particular moving object. The rumbling crowd drew closer and some of what they were shouting could now be heard: “Hure!” “Mubvisei!”, “Dzimwe hembe dzasara kupi?”, “Ndizvo zvawanga uchida!” “Ungaita chipfambi mangwanani ano?”(“Bitch!” “Take them off”, “Where are the rest of your clothes?”, “This is what you wanted!” “How can you prostitute yourself so early in the morning?”)

The crowd was getting more and more irate and some of the hecklers had even taken out their mobile phones to photograph this mysterious trouble-maker. She finally emerged, dressed in a blue long sleeved top, a denim mini-skirt and flat sandals. She was tightly clutching a man’s arm and he attempted to manoeuvre them both through the enraged crowd, all of whom were men. Cameras clicked, fists banged on combi bodies, the men bellowed threats, hurled insults and comments of disapproval and disgust. The girl and her ‘saviour’, were swallowed by the growing crowd, (other men, having heard the commotion, had come to join in the taunting), only to emerge moments later halfway across the now completely blocked street. The pair, disappearing again into the belly of the beastly crowd, and miraculously re-appeared inside a parked combi. The mob then encircled it and began rocking it from side to side. With the crowd thus occupied, the road cleared and we were free to move.

All the men in the combi had something to say. One said that he didn’t wish to see such things as they would further raise his already high blood pressure, but all the while, he craned his head to see how the scene we had left behind was unfolding. Another said that they should indeed take her clothes off, because that is what she wanted and deserved. All the men agreed that she was immoral, and that displaying her body like that was disgusting.

I wondered why they had not looked away when they saw her ‘disgusting’ thighs only half covered by the mini-skirt, and why some of them had smiled and even licked their lips at the sight of other men tugging at the small garment.

All the women were silent, probably fearing that the bad old days have come back to haunt us once again.

“I think there is too much concentration on fighting HIV, AIDS and other diseases like cholera, so we want to restore the balance,” said Dr Stamps. The former health minister/Health Advisor in the Office of the President and Cabinet, said this at the Non-Communicable Diseases Conference held from 15th – 16th of this month.

According to the World Health Organisation (WHO), respiratory diseases, diabetes, cancers and cardiovascular diseases (including high blood pressure) account for 80% of deaths from non-communicable diseases, and are perpetuated by things like tobacco use, physical inactivity, the harmful use of alcohol and poor diets.

Even though it seems that AIDS poses the biggest threat to our health, these “silent killers”, which are so often neglected, and are very much a ‘normal’ part of many Zimbabweans’ lives (especially diabetes and high blood pressure), are the greatest killer disease in the world. In Zimbabwe, 21% of deaths in 2010 can be attributed to such disease, according to WHO Non-communicable disease country profiles 2011. In the light of such scary statistics, does HIV and AIDS seem like such a big deal now? Let’s restore the balance in the focus of our healthcare systems, as Dr Stamps has so rightly suggested.

I remember going to the Harare Agricultural Show and hearing announcements over the P.A. system about children who had been lost in the crowds and recovered by the police. Such stories of children getting lost seemed synonymous with the show itself, and these stories always seemed to have happy endings memorable reunions.

What does it mean about the state of our country if skeletal remains of a lost child, (who’s name and description were probably announced over the P.A. system), are now being found within those very grounds? Children used to get lost, and found, not murdered! This is not normal! What is happening here?

And what is wrong with us? Have we become so numb to the plight of children? We hold demonstrations about ZESA power cuts, rallies to express our different political views, we even gather outside police stations to harass alleged female rapists, but I have not heard any significant public outcry over the disappearances of children who went missing during the Agricultural Show this year alone, not to mentioned all the other incidences. Why aren’t more people asking; “What the hell is happening?”

I don’t think that when Rumbi Katedza wrote Playing Warriors she had a great message in mind. I think she simply wanted to tell a story she and the women she knew could relate to. The film is a snapshot in the lives of Nyarai (Kudzai Sevenzo), Maxi (Nothando Lobengula) and Nonto (Prudence Katomeni-Mbofana), three women in their late twenties. Maxi is an irreverent lawyer who is having an affair with a prominent politician. Nonto is the quiet friend who is about to be married and Nyarai, the central character, is a high flying career woman with a meddlesome mother.

From the beginning of the film it is obvious that Nyarai does not fit in the mould of the traditional Zimbabwean girl. The film opens with a dream sequence set in ancient Zimbabwe. A young warrior places the lion he has slain at Nyarai’s father’s feet.  He, apparently, is seeking Nyarai’s hand in marriage. Nyarai’s father looks to his wife for approval, this she gives with a smile. Everything appears as one would expect on such an occasion. The camera focuses on Nyarai’s face and the audience finds that rather than being breathless with excitement at having such gift presented for her hand, Nyarai does not look as pleased. In fact she almost looks annoyed.

Traditional Zimbabwean women are supposed to want marriage above everything else. Particularly to a man who so obviously can provide. In the film is it understandable that Nyarai will not commit to her ridiculously self absorbed toy-boy Che. Their relationship is simply about sex. It is he who needs her to survive. Nyarai’s relationship with Leslie, a well-heeled divorcée arranged for and heartily supported by her mother is far more complex. He goes to great pains to woo her, closing down a restaurant just for her and performing that rarity among Zimbabwean men, cooking her a meal. Even the audience feels that there might be a happy ending. But Leslie is merely mutton dressed as lamb. He confesses a bad relationship with his children, and gives them the kind of parenting that reduces his role in their lives to a bank account with a face.  He is arrogant, impatient and only acknowledges Nyarai’s relevance as his woman, not as her own person. This film is bold in claiming that women need more from their men than material security. Despite his money and their sexual chemistry Nyarai rejects Leslie because he doesn’t listen and therefore doesn’t understand her needs.

Nyarai’s mother, who embodies the traditional and cultural expectation placed upon young women, is perplexed by her oldest daughter’s impractical insistence on marrying only for love.

Maxi’s brazen and abrasive rejection of her burden of expectation provides an alternative angle to Nyarai’s gentle questioning. Fiercely independent, Maxi is everything a good Zimbabwean girl shouldn’t be. She smokes, she’s loud in her denouncement of traditions and cultural roles and she’s having sex with a married politician for pleasure and professional gain. But despite herself and everything she knows to be true about her lover, she falls in love with him.

In contrast to Maxi’s and to a lesser extent Nyarai’s tumultuous relationship with tradition is Nonto’s active acceptance of it. The film takes the audience through her experiences as a bride.  When she announces that she is getting married her friends question her decision not to have premarital sex and how she would cope with the disappointment should he be a bad lover. But Nonto is steadfast in her faith in her relationship, and as a born again Christian in the wisdom of her God. The film also depicts the processes involved in traditional marriages. There is a hilarious roora scene, where the groom’s munyayi (negotiator) uncomfortably pleads with Nonto’s uncles to lower the rusambo (bride price), and another showing the bridal party practising masteps (wedding dance) with a dictatorial choreographer.

On the surface Playing Warriors is a feel good chick flick. But it is also a film that documents the deeper change within Zimbabwe. It is a bold in showing independent free-thinking women who are in full-ownership of their sexuality, and demand more than material fulfilment from their relationships. It is also one of the first feature films about Zimbabwean women that does not characterise them as victims of male-driven tradition. I think the greatest lesson of the film is that it is possible for traditions and cultures to evolve, and change is not always about leaving the values that are important, such as family and community, behind.

Within 5 hours of me sending my last ‘lily-message’ we got a phone call
from a woman called Jo living in Merick Park
‘I believe you have lost your jack russel – we have found one’

We checked that this was a brown-and-white female with a long tail
but we knew it was Lily when she asked
‘does she sit back on her haunches with her front legs held out straight’
Kate, Eli Bo and I drove over to get her

There is no way to describe the joy in seeing this little animal
who carries so much of our lives

Bringing her home to Max and Tony and Rory…
Max couldn’t stop kissing her

Only Lily knows what happened
she was covered in red soil that is found on Merick Park hill
she must have run across the vlei and got lost on the other side

she looked as if she has been sleeping outside
but she had either been fed or had scavenged food
her front paw is sprained – as if she has scratched her way out of somewhere
(Lily has been known to claw holes in doors if locked somewhere by mistake)
she is limping,
and the pads on her feet are tender as if she has been running on tar roads
she is exhausted and a little shaken – but she will be fine
she walked in on Jo and her family on Sunday afternoon
Jo phoned the vet on Monday – and she got our phone number

Today, as Lily and Max lie together
stretched out at the A-frame door
I wonder
about the power of prayer/ritual/connecting/good wishes/love
and when we do what we do with intention
is this what calls in the magic

On the weekend I spoke to a woman who had lost her dog
who she found again
and she asked me if I was calling Lily back – connecting with her

and I realized that this was something I was finding so difficult
as my imagination took me to the awful places she could be
I did the phoning and the poster sticking-up and the vet-visiting
and I had not really, therefore
been calling her home with clear intention

so I did

What was it that called Lily home?
was it people sending love and support from everywhere?
was it my and Tony’s mothers giving to St. Anthony an ‘ear-bashing’?
was it the Mwanzas praying on the vlei?
was it the presence of the other Jack Russell, Lily,
when they brought her into their circle on 11.11.11. at Hazelwood ?
was it Bev H holding thumbs?
was it the poster we left on trees and at vets?
was it Lily?

or was it all of these things working together with the same intention?

Above the window
a pair of sun birds search the branches for spider webs to build their nest
life goes on

Thank you all for listening so patiently
and my love – coming from a much deeper place
to those who have not found their loved ones