1. My friend Rose
This past weekend, something happened that made me pause and think about what is really important. On Sunday morning my friend's husband called me to let me know that her brother had passed away. Like a good friends I dropped everything and rushed to her be by her side. When we got there I found my friend "Rose" alone in her room crying her eyes out. The sight of seeing my friend sitting on the floor under her duvet broke my heart. Not only had she lost her brother unexpectedly, she had to mourn with her family over the phone. She was unable to monitor how her mother was coping with having to bury her fourth child. It was at that point I realized how helpless one can feel when living abroad. Though Rose had her new make shift family (i.e. her diaspora friends) around to support her by just saying, "Sorry hako Rose, Sorry hako shamwari yangu" (I am sorry my Rose) it was definitely would not be the same as being around her remaining brothers and sisters.
When I was younger, I nevre really understood why my mother dragged us to funerals where we had to sit on the hard cement floors and watch random women who had just arrived from the ruseva (rural areas) throw her bags on the ground and start waling hysterically from the gate so that everyone sitting in the house knew that that kwazvika munhu anochema (someone who really knows how to cry has arrived). I never appreciated people gathering for days on end before burying someone. Or why at every funeral there was that one woman who was not reverent to the fact that someone had died and cracking jokes was just not appropriate.
However, as I sat with Rose in her bedroom and I could not help but notice how she hard she was trying not to cry, so that I would not feel uncomfortable. While I on the other hand was thinking to myself, "Lord please may one tear, just one tear come out so that I can cry or mourn with my friend, and not seem as though I am being insensitive". It was at that moment that I understood and appreciated how we carried out our funerals back home. I apprecuated the woman who came from the rural areas and cried uncontrolably even though she never really had a relationship with the person who had just passed away. Her theatrical crying gave the grieveing family members the opportunity to cry without feeling awkward and the opportunity dzekupedza shungu dzekuchema. But, in addition the theatrical cryer also helped those like myself who are not really moved to cry on cue, not come across as insensitive.
I also realized that those women veruwadzano, with their ngoma's and hoshos who sang for days on end, played an important part aswell. Their sing for a few moments distracted the grieving family from the pain of their loss. And that irreverant woman she too had a role, it was to fill in those awkward moments of silence that seem never to end when you are alone with someone who is grieving. And even the irreverant woman's jokes not only filled those voids but also lifted people's spirits.
I don't know what I will do the next time I have to go and comfort one of my friends, but maybe if I incorporate a little of all those women I saw growing up I guess it will ease the awakardness.
2. The Days of Gwisai's Life Update
In my last post we learnt that after Gwisai's future "baby mama" had faked her pregnancy and many parellels could be made between real life drama and TV drama. And accordingly the Gwisai Memory scandal continues.
So after being burnt by lady love, Gwisai decided that life away from his mother was really tough. So he decided that at age 28 the best way to recover from this traumatic event was to move back to his mother's home. Now if this was the best move, it really depends who you ask but I say, to each is own. But, I love the drama that surrounds this guy because it gives me something to write about.
So as mentioned earlier Gwisai decided to move out of his to move out of his twon house and move back in with his parents. But, Memory was not going to go down without a fight. She secretly began watching Gwisai's daily moves. When he went to work and when he returned. One day while Gwisai was driving back home, he slowed down to turn into the road that led to his family's home. And waiting at the corner, sure enough was Memory. I figure she had finally mustered up the courage to ask Gwisai to take her back. I assume that when Gwisai saw her he slowed down, rolled down the window and asked her what she wanted. Memory I assume, tried to plead with Gwisai and explain that she was the only one for him. And she would not let her go because what then followed is nothing short of thetrically. Gwisai told her they were not going to get back together, she then jumped into the the back of the Mazda B1600 and refused to get out. Now you may ask why not just pick her up and get her out of the car. Well apparently Memory is a big girl and moving her wpuld not an easy task. And her size was also one of the reasons given why noone had noticed she was not pregnant. In any event after refusing to remove herself from Gwisai's B1600, Gwisai's lawyer instinct told him to drive to the police station and have them deal with her. Upon his arrival at the ZRP (Zimbabwean Republic Police) station, the officers on duty told Gwisai that they were unable to remove Memory from his car, as this was a domestic issue and the best way to handle this was to go kwatete discuss the issue. Well Gwisai knowing his rights, told the police that until they removed the intruder in his car, he would not remove the car from the ZRP parking lot. Unbeknownst to Memory, Gwisai had proceeded to leave the police station and return back home. Memory determined to win Gwisai back decided tospend the night in the back of the open truck. The next morning during the a shift change one of the officer went over to Memory and said "Iwe munhu wawakamirira akaenda nzuro enda kumba." (You the person you are waiting for left yesterday go home). A disappointed Memory picked herself up and went where ever her home was. A few days later she went to the Mupandawana's residence to let Mai Mupandawana that she was pregnant again. And of course it was Gwisai's baby.
3. The lesson Dhedhi taught me
Growing up I always admired dhedhi (daddy)'s ability to acknowledge when he was wrong or had hurt your feelings. No matter how big or small the offence, if dhedhi came to the realization that he was wrong or he had hurt you he always made sure he said "sorri bhabi". Two days ago I had a disagreement with one of my best friends. I felt that she wronged me and in response I said some stuff that was not only unnecessary but mean spirited. I later apologized to her and she graciously accepted my apology, but I knew that it was not my greatest moment. I am fortunate that dhedhi taught me that I should never be ashamed to apologize because if I had not done so I could have lost one of my greatest friends. Thank God for Dhedhi and thank God for gorgiving friends.
Well friends till next time. Happy thanks giving to those of you in the States.
