Recently Zimbabwe has been experiencing a wave of high temperatures and many people have been questioning if the change in temperatures is an effect of global warming. The month of October saw temperatures soaring and has been recorded as the hottest month in a period of fifty years. This situation is not only being experienced in Zimbabwe only but also in neighbouring countries. Other parts of the world are even experiencing severe catastrophes like floods and drought – luckily here its just the heat.  What really caught my attention about this subject recently when I was reading an article in the Herald is the fact that the Meteorological Services Department director acknowledged the change in temperatures but played it down to just a passing phase with nothing to do with global warming. I am not a weather expect but the weatherman’s forecast leaves a lot of questions to be asked especially on the part that the high temperatures are extraordinary.  We are in summer and traditionally most areas in this country should have recorded their first rains but still the weather service department has not been giving satisfactory forecasts.  Maybe our weather department needs to put those little planes back in the skies and do cloud seeding. Its also a matter of looking at both sides because our Met office needs to move along with new advancements in technologies when they do their work.

The change in rainy season patterns and cold winters experienced this year clearly show that something is really happening to the weather. Though small in effect as compared to the gases produced from the first world countries this country has experienced its fair share of deforestation due to the unavailability of electricity from ZESA.

Those who are experiencing the real global warming also started by calling it a passing phase just like what our own weathermen are calling it. If global warming is affecting other countries what makes our official from Meteorological Services Department think that Zimbabwe is not going to be affected?

Over the weekend I had a talk with some friends about what life must have been like for people our age, 100 years ago. We wondered what was different, not just in terms of infrastructure and the several freedoms we enjoy today, but also about our culture.  What would they have thought of how the Zimbabwean culture has evolved and the point at which it now is?

Culture is by definition: “An integrated pattern of human knowledge, belief, and behaviour that depends upon the capacity for symbolic thought and social learning. The set of shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices that characterizes an institution.” (Wikipedia)

This definition implies the need for a societal effort to store and share this acquired knowledge and belief systems. This in itself is now much harder to achieve, as many parts of the modern Zimbabwean society are no longer enjoy the communal living of old.  Some knowledge that was once shared in a communal setting is now passed on more privately, or not at all. I feel that, it is in personalizing and becoming private about some aspects of our culture that we are losing the plot. It is definitely among the reasons I feel I know as little about my culture. I mean, do you think much privacy existed back then?

Some would then argue the culture is ever changing, and that this is just one of the many adaptations Zimbabwean culture has made. After all, the very essence of cultural development is firmly rooted in continually linking already acquired knowledge, with new ideas for its modification. Despite truth of this statement, it still saddens me to think about how much knowledge has been lost along the way, as that past knowledge seems not to have stood the test of time.

The link between culture and language is one that cannot be ignored. Many view language as the verbal manifestation of culture. And even though the majority of human communication is non-verbal, language, is another way cultural practices and values are passed on. Zimbabwe has 5 regularly spoken languages, namely, Shona, Ndebele, English, Kalanga and Tonga. It would be interesting to know how much these languages have evolved over the last century, and if indeed, we would even understand each other, if given the opportunity. If a man of woman from Rhodesia 100 years ago were to go into the Harare CBD right now and merely ask for directions in Chizezuru, would they understand them? Are we too far gone or is there still resemblance with our ancestors from colonial times?

Is the stigma of AIDS as devastating, if not more than the disease itself?
Kenneth Cole

I was part of a discussion with a group of youths about getting tested for HIV. One of the guys, let’s call him Fred, wanted to go and get tested, but he was afraid to go it alone. He asked his ‘Boyz’ if they would come and get tested with him, and this is where the drama started! The ‘Boyz’ said things like, “I’ll come with you and even hold your hand, for moral support. But I will NEVER get tested!” I felt sorry for him, because he desperately wanted to know his status, but was too petrified to do it alone. I asked them why getting tested was such a big no-no, and they basically said that they were scared and ashamed of dying of AIDS and would rather go on living in blissful ignorance, and then, die anyway. Sadly, these ‘Boyz’ represent a vast majority of Zimbabwe’s youth.

So, why are so many people scared of AIDS? Looking back early HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention campaigns in Zimbabwe, it is not difficult to see why. AIDS was depicted as this beastly killer that savagely tortured it’s victims until they withered away and eventually died, pitiful shadows of their former selves. I remember the ‘AIDS IS A DEADLY KILLER DISEASE!’ posters that were plastered all around my primary school. There was not so much information about the disease then. All we knew was that people who got it were bad people, who got it doing bad things, and that it kills. That was all we needed to know.

Looking at the history of HIV/AIDS in Zimbabwe, we see that most people never admitted to having the disease. People came up with all sorts of phrases, (The silent killer; A long illness; Ari muBhazi (Shona)), to avoid having to say AIDS. This culture of shame and secrecy surrounding the disease still has a strong hold on us today. Even now, when we have so much more information on HIV/AIDS that can dispel a lot of the cultivated myths and counteract our earlier mis-education on the disease, people are still ashamed, secretive and scared to talk about it. One can’t talk openly about AIDS without encountering some prejudice and apprehension. This has to change, because the reality is that people are dying needlessly.

What’s most alarming is that we can’t be absolutely sure of the number of people who are infected, (as demonstrated by the ‘Boyz’), since so few people actually get tested for HIV (about 5%), mainly because having a positive HIV status is viewed as iniquitous and disgraceful or as a death sentence. This stigma leads to discrimination of those infected and prevents more people from admitting to their status, getting tested and seeking treatment and psycho-social support. It is important for us to find was to destroy this stigma and render it powerless in Zimbabwe, with the aim to increase awareness and reduced infection in youth, because let’s face it, our youth are having sex earlier and earlier, and condoms are not exactly cool. If they continue to behave like this, they WILL get infected. But, will we never know this for sure, if they are they are so scared and unwilling to get tested?

In fighting the stigma and we can follow the examples of the late Natasha Richardson, (whose father died of the disease), and was involved in countless fund-raising efforts for HIV/AIDS research, and ex-NBA basket-baller, ‘Magic’ Johnson, who in 1992 began a life-long, HIV/AIDS awareness, education, and prevention campaign, when he announced to the world that he was HIV positive.

From a logical point of view, one would want to know their status as soon as possible, in order that they may get on proper medication, and live as long a life as they can. But when faced with the reality of a positive HIV status, all that logic/reason flies out of the window, and ignorance and fear take over. Let’s fight stigma so more can feel encouraged to know their status, stay protected and truly live positively.

I’m at my best first thing in the morning, hair sticking out at all angles and a face that needs ironing.  The kids, on the other hand, wake up as though they’d never slept – their eyes might be a bit droopy, but the energy bubbles just under the surface.  Such “tail-wagging” is reserved for the weekend of course, when I want to lie in.  On a school day they have to be coaxed from bed and scooped into their uniforms with a shoe spoon.  Daniel never has his hair brushed, and ignoring his feet, I sometimes only realize he’s forgotten his shoes when we get to Tyla’s school (having removed them to jump on the bed).  Tyla has her hair brushed, but inevitably the skirt is rucked to the side, her shirt is partially untucked and her socks are inexorably slinking south – and this is how we arrive at school.  Carrying satchels and silkworms and mulberry tree leaves and flowers and extra glitter (Xmas is almost upon us – the decorations are going up, and come December 24 we will all be ready to murder anyone who sings “jingle bells”!).

But at the weekend, you are prodded and whispered at and when Daniel gets impatient you might get a finger full of slobber in your ear – otherwise known as the “wet willy.”

So I started writing this on Sunday morning, closer to 5am than 6.  Aunt Jen gave Daniel some fishing lures; plastic worms with all sorts of wiggly bits and colours to fool the fish, and both kids have taken great delight in hiding them where I will inadvertently find them.  My shrieks, the first genuine, the rest contrived it must be admitted, are mirrored by happy squeals and giggles.  As I sip my coffee, they are busy planting lures all over the bed where Graham is still sleeping, or trying to, their giggles are hard to suppress and tip-toeing is out of the question.  I am unashamed at having made the suggestion and obstinately ignore the lure wedged between my toes.  It must be the best part of my day.

These Zimbabwean riot policemen and women aren’t facilitating a rally by Morgan Tsvangirai, they’re blocking it. Time for Mugabe to go. Time for the Unity Government to go.