The success of the system is dependent on us believing them –

‘that we are all enemies and cannot trust one another
we are all competing for the same piece of pie
that we are not safe’.

What if we stopped believing this?
What if we met our assumed foes with the voice of friendship and our fears with courage and trust?

As we stand poised on the brink of yet another year
with the same power in the same places
and  Zimbabwe under the threat of yet another election and the accompanying intimidation and violence

we wait
as the leadership juggles around their personal advantages against what might happen
. . . if the choice to was given to the people (god forbid)

It can look pretty dark out there

But what we see depends on where we look.
Perhaps if we choose where look more carefully we can see the next steps in the journey

Two stories have given this year a certain impetus for me:

One from my niece, Hayley, who teaches at a junior girls school in England

‘……they are from a very wealthy section of London society – it’s a private school with small classes so they get lots of individual attention, and I often want them to understand how lucky they are – not so that they feel guilty but more so that they become aware of how they can help others. And so I introduced R.A.C.K to my class – Random Acts of Care and Kindness. I made a paper bunting strip that hung at the back of my class and told the girls that every time they did something nice for someone else they could write it on one of the paper triangles from a particular box and I’d hang it up. They quickly got the idea and within two weeks the string was full, so I added more on two sides of my room… and they filled up too.

None of the good deeds are very dramatic but they are sweet – helping a neighbour wash his car, getting a box on a high shelf for an elderly person in a supermarket etc.

The thing is, these girls have decided that they love helping others. They understand that a smile and friendly greeting go a long way. In fact before Christmas when the whole school walked across the town to the local church for a carol concert practice, the whole procession was held up by my class chatting to the homeless guy outside Marks and Spencer’s who was selling The Big Issue. It made my heart sing!

And slowly, the girls are changing the world one smile at a time.’

The other was an event offered by Barbara, Jonathan and Sam, who celebrated the birthday of their friend  Carrie, in South Africa:

‘Carrie is one of those generous souls who do things like (to quote her) – “dancing the whole night through until sunrise (preferably in a small, hot shebeen in Nairobi), baking cookies for your neighbours, going to a dinner party and spending the entire evening playing with the children, paying the toll for the car behind you, stopping to help someone stuck on the side of the road (even though you know NOTHING about car mechanics), giving someone an unexpected present, eating an entire box of chocolates, deliver a meal to someone in need, spamming your friends with (hopefully) inspirational text messages, organising or attending a demonstration for something you feel passionately about….” You get the idea? ‘

At her request, B, J and S  ‘Did it like Carrie’, by going through the collection of books and DVD’s, and holding an open house  yesterday afternoon with an invitation to us all to come and collect what we would like.  We had tea and caught up with one another, shared stories and began the year in our community in an act of generosity.

Do we look, forever, to the dark out there, to have our fears echoed back at us
or do we walk into it, shining our own?

In the face of whatever is coming – these random acts of generosity carry with them the possibility of something different

and they begin a spiral of patterns that has no know ultimate end.

It calls to me.

It was about time we did something different so I booked a table for two at La Fonteine. I sent a text to my dinner date confirming arrangements and she asked what the dress code was. I said “chic grunge”. Then, thinking about the 5 stars that Meikle’s is meant to have, I swiftly sent another text; “more chic than tat.” She turned up in impressive high heels, silver and shimmery. She got taller, I felt shorter. Thank God they were hard to walk in because they were soon ditched for sneakers. On our way to dinner I asked her how long since she’d been into the city at night. HIFA she said. We had a pre dinner drink in the Can Can Bar. The cocktail list is extensive and in a voice infused with doubt, I asked Wellington, the barman, whether he could make All the cocktails so temptingly advertised. In our very Zimbabwean way he said yes but not all. I played it safe and asked for a Cosmopolitan. At the Can Can it’s made with apple juice instead of cranberry juice. It took Wellington a full five minutes to convince me that This Would Be OK; in fact it’s even better than the usual way he said. And it was. I ended up having three. My date settled on an Old Fashioned. She winced when she had her first sip. I told Wellington that this was a good sign. She had two. I sat back and listened to some poetry that materialised out of my companion’s back pocket. She shared a poem by Barbara Ras; you can’t have it all, but there is this. Dinner menus were brought to us at the bar. There was a choice between a set menu or a la carte. Luke, one of the most gracious waiters I’ve ever met, said it would be fine to have a starter from one menu and a main from the other. Flexible restaurants rock! The starters we chose; mushroom soup and salmon pate with prawn toast, were faultless. We both chose the same main course, slow cooked lamb with an aubergine sauce. Again, the food was fabulous. The only down side was the insipid crème brule and the very weak and uninspired cappuccinos. The Can Can Bar and La Fonteine are well worth a visit. Compared with other restaurants in Harare its way ahead of the game and a visit won’t break the bank. You’ll also experience the best service in town. And if you’re worried about the safety of your car, you get free parking in the Meikles Hotel guarded car park. I’ll be back sooner rather than later especially if the pianist adds Fly Me To The Moon to his repertoire.

Our country has a history of violence – our children have experienced the horror and fear of rape and beatings in their schools, communities and homes.

Tree of Life workshops have been spreading throughout Zimbabwe over the last 9 years. They are Healing and Empowerment workshops facilitated by survivors of torture, violence and rape. The Story Telling Circles are based round the tree metaphor and allow for the integration of past, present and future experiences, and makes a deep connection to spiritual beliefs and traditions.

And our forest is growing, the roots stretching wider and wider throughout our country.

For the last 5 months, this growing number of facilitators have been gathering in ‘Gender Circles’ and meeting the difficult space between socially and culturally accepted norms and matching them against our Tree of Life Agreements: Equality, respect, truth, love, tolerance, humility.

These have been difficult conversations, particularly in a present external culture of abuse of power. But like all difficult conversations, they have been rich with compassion and learning.

The women have begun to move beyond the silencing of their voices and the ownership of their bodies. They have spoken of the value of mothering and community and loyalty and love, the limitations of jealousy and victimhood, and have learnt to walk with dignity and respect.

The men have listened to stories of rape – and have had the space to share their own. They have looked at the inequalities of ownership, and the effects it has had on their lives – in schools, churches, political organisations and the places they work. They have shared the limitations and difficulties of family  responsibilities inflicted upon them – often from an early age.

We met last Friday (18th March) There were over 50 of us, facilitators from Tree of Life communities and organisations representing the hundreds of circles who stand behind them, and we spoke of the One Billion Rising on the 14th February.

And we decided we are READY
We are ready to join the dance
We will be joining all the global rising on V Day against the abuse of women.

We are in the process of planning
Watch this space!

We will be posting on Facebook, Her Zimbabwe and One Billion Rising Zimbabwe

For someone who cheated his way to seven Tour de France medals this is a well-deserved award for Lance Armstrong. According to Foreign Police website the disgraced former world cycling champion was elected by France’s investigative website Rue89.com as the sports bastard of the year weeks before he came on TV with Oprah to confess his sins. Now we know what Lance was on besides the bike to win the races.

Even here in Zimbabwe we have our own Sport Bastard of the Year especially the Asia-gate cheats and the recent officials from the Zimbabwe Football Association (ZIFA) involved in the Ballon d’Or-gate for casting fake votes for the FIFA World Footballer of the Year award.

“Only if a coach is to sit on a national selection panel then that person should have international experience, in terms of paragraph 2.2 of the directive”

This directive has infuriated a lot people especially those in the sporting fraternity particularly those who have ambitions to coach or sit on selection panels of national sports. This directive came from the Sports and Recreation Commission and has sucked in the Minister of Sports of Sports and Culture, Senator David Coltart.

The reason why the directive has been seen to be racist in nature is the fact that there are some sporting activities which here in Zimbabwe have been regarded to be for the minority and for the elite. This was due to the fact that it was very rare (and it is still) to see at swimming pool at a government school in Chitungwiza. I remember when I was in primary in my hometown Chitungwiza, there was only one school with a cricket pitch. Every Friday all primary schools in Chitungwiza would gather at St Aidan for a cricket knock out tournament.

Given such a scenario of scarce resources how would do you then expect to groom players who can play these kinds of sports at international level so that one day they can sit on the national selector’s panel? Should we keep on blaming the whites for making the sports elite especially after almost 33 years of independence?

The alleged row at Zimbabwe Cricket seems to have been sparked by the Minister’s directive and some black players who have been sitting on the Cricket Zimbabwe’s national selection panel feel the directive is targeted at them. By throwing in racist allegations these selectors are trying to play to the gallery so that they receive some political sympathy while covering up for the poor results. Regardless of color nobody wants to support losers and that’s the reason why the nation has supported Kirsty Coventry and the Black family without mentioning racism.

My suggestion to the SRC directive is for the government to invest in sports so that no sporting activity will be regarded to be for the minority or elite. Sports have become a source of livelihood and many dreams and aspirations have been to put halt because of lack of resources.