The Day Odinga let me down: Ordinary relfections on Kenyan Elections


I’d like to believe that the Kenyan elections were somewhat free and fair judging to the previous standards of Kenya in regards to elections and broadly their handling of the electoral process from the start. I applaud them being Zimbabwean I must say , Kenya transitioned over the past five years through processes which one can follow more than what is happening in Zimbabwe. In a week I am expected to vote for a constitution I know nothing about. . I am afraid I can’t say the same for my country. We don’t respect process. At this point, I will express my disappointment and say I thought Odinga would win but he didn’t and was thrashed by a wide margin. Recognising this, we should note that these elections were not explicitly or rather out rightly rigged amidst the alarmist calls by one to many comrades who lost the struggle they thought they would win easily without uniting the tribes in Kenya. I feel that tribal issues have been the underlying factor of the results we got out of Kenya.

Now this post is not out to fuel hatred amongst the Kenyans and their different tribes. But it’s an offhand caution of the thoughts of a young woman who is scared for this nation and all the other African Countries going through transitions or rather those failing to go through their political transitions. We must learn from Kenya and watch them very intently. If my notion pointing towards tribal gymnastics had any part in influencing the outcome of this election then Kenya is in trouble and Africa has some real democratic shit to shovel out of its system. If I am wrong then the next 6 months need to prove me wrong. Kenya must prove me wrong.

The Day Odinga let me down- So after the violence which rocked Kenya some 5years back, we thought perhaps maybe they will be space for change and it was actually going to happen. Naturally as a Zimbabwean I was hoping that Odinga would win so that we have a message that is sent out to assure those of us without hope in political systems that change may come if proper political procedures are followed. I was hoping that it becomes a wave after Zambia. And deeply dreaming that young people would become a greater part of that revolution. This is what I thought. Tracking the Kenyan results was depressing, I don’t think anyone can pull off rigging with an 800 000 margin with an electronic voting system. It’s practically not possible. Odinga failed , being the candidate I would have wanted to lead Kenya as he was the most visible figure in Kenyan political agenda. He failed and we need to reflect and analyse his failures objectively. Forget the rig talk, critical conversations need to follow the Kenyan debate because I feel that it spills over its influence into other nations particularly Zimbabwe which has been borrowing concepts and ideas from Kenya at a close call. Let’s get rid of emotional sentiments and dig on what really happened to Kenya. Who/What  is  tipped to bring in the ideal change –the people, a specific tribe or the process of transition whether it was flawed or not?

Who needs the olive branch?

Uhuru offered Odinga an olive tree branch to his opponents which was not accepted by a single one of the presidential candidate indicating a surging energy of unacceptance. In this case I begin to question these movement for democracy entities. Are they going to mourn and groan over the lifetime of their politics and tell us that they are not moving g fast enough to democratise Africa because elections are being rigged (timely) in their face. Who started the rig talk? What was the intention of it all? I keep thinking that sometimes in Africa’s real politics we keep thinking of how we have been short changed, how they are beating and throwing us against the wall, we speak and go on top of mountains and lament. Never have I seen these democratic stalwarts on top of mountains speaking real strategy and action. They mourn all the time and reflective of apathy and their failure to come to the throne and deliver their rants, it seems they this cycle in African politics will forever stink of one party politics. Perhaps they should all line up at Freedom Square in Nairobi and accept the branch after all they opted to work in a divided Kenya.

 For five years, they preached peace and passively pointed towards unity not knowing that Africans will always value their own first. There is no way the Kikuyus were going to put Odinga in power and they happen to be the majority. I don’t know why the opposition expected this to happen. The dynamics of power and money are at play here. Kikuyus own most of Kenya and there were no possibilities of them letting that wealth grip go. In fact, it is a common trend in Africa and the politics is more about the money than the people. So why did we over look that? I have no idea what the other tribes have or own but I suggest that the Kenyan fight becomes less about who has the power but on who owns what .Yes explicitly like that. Money is power and that power shall remain in the hands of who have it. Odinga can dream on now.

Adding on, if elections have been presumably rigged can we make it about the people more than it is for the political parties? What are the Kenyans saying about the result? Can we reflect on the common conversation on the streets and the village? In wake of this, political leaders who rush to the people and seek sympathy should know better. The last thing that we expect from our leaders is for them to be cry-babies in our sight. Playing victim all the time when they are not building their strategy for attaining power enough. I hate it when I have to find myself constantly disappointed by those whom we expect to save us at least when they are outsmarted at the peril of their sweat. Odinga worked for the new Kenyan constitution and it did not work for him. God knows he tried to follow the trench without missing the ideal corners but today he emerges the loser. I hear the echoes of the same trend in Zimbabwe. I can almost predict the speeches which will be made in the near future in regards to this. They will grace podiums and say we were on the right track but the rules were bent etc. We, the people do not want to hear that nonsense. We are tired of it. Political leaders can outsmart each other not the people.

Post Kenyan election, Odinga should know better than to complain and disregard the fact that he ignored the elementary tribal factor and its impact in Kenya.  It’s not over yet for him but I think he should bank on the fact that it’s never going to be an easy humiliation to serve a man who was once your subordinate. He is on his own now.  

And a few words for Kenya, I think the people of Kenya are tipped to learn the hard way in the political period which they have entered. Uhuru Kenyatta is an echo of the previous systems we dare not remember. Here’s to hoping that the Kenyans will not re-live that memory. I am not saying that Odinga was going to be good leader, I am just saying they ought to watch their backs and this time beyond the political space….

Its time for Kenya to look past the tribal lenses before its too late.

Dreams for Miss Stacey which came late


So Stacey visits family, as always they escorted her back and left her after helping her cross the busy part of the road to finish off her journey. On she went and from that point everything becomes blurred. She goes missing for three days and is found raped and murdered. Everything on her body was intact nothing was removed on it according to reports. It was not a ritual murder since nothing was taken from her body. So what was it? What happened to Stacey beyond the raping and the murder of this child? To say nothing was taken from her for me would not be true. She was found dead with a lot of things taken from her though not visible. Life, breath, peace, warmth, her smile was gone, no voice, nothing was left except a lifeless body. Left there thrown in the maize fields without hope and we say nothing was taken from her body. I don’t think so!!

Tracing this story from the time it happened, I find myself failing to raise enough questions in regards to Tsitsi’s tragic ending. What is it that we are really supposed to question as rape is increasing by the day? The gap in the legal system, rape culture, and patriarchy, our naivety – leaving her safety to chance and assume she will get home anyway, women’s organisations not doing enough, the government, anyone: who could have acted in a way that may have saved Miss Stacey’s life? Who deserves to die because society has watched as rape culture is anchoring itself and scarring our society. Are we still dreaming for our children to live on ,long enriched lives?

I have dreams for Stacey even in her death and they are clouded with shame.
I have a dream that whoever raped and killed Stacey will be caught by the police and justice will prevail for her.
I have a dream that one day rape will be a thing of the past
I have a dream that one day men and women will see the need to collectively rise for their children and erase the scars of past abuse and end it in the future.
I have a dream that one day, work around protecting the sexuality of women and girls becomes high priority for everyone.
I dream in my moments that Stacey’s Story shall be told in all genuineness and that every one of us will keenly push for justice for her.
I have a dream that someday we will let our children run put to play in the streets without fear
I pray that the dreams of organisations working on gender based violence go beyond their need to be visible, but reach deep down to the trenches of the soul to transform minds and to build movements for ending such atrocities.
Dreaming on, I want us to work on not having misplaced sexual desires that are blind to the future of Zimbabwe

In the pit of my dream, I sit and watch governments not lifting a finger, not even raising thier own voices for the women and girls. I watched as they coerce us –we the women- to vote for them yet our children are lying dead in maize fields bruised and battered, and stripped of their bodily integrity. It’s like a nightmare where my value is attached to the ballot only. I can’t vote for a leader who will not fight for my body, in aguish I ask the maker to wake me from that dream. No I cannot go to the poll with a bruised body, I cannot stand in the same queue with the perpetrator when he is supposed to vote from the cells stinking as the soul that rapes our children. I will wake up from this nightmare.
I keep dreaming that maybe we may pursue our understanding of consensual sex…just once!!

In the dream I fight on hoping to get an answer. I want to meet whoever did this to Stacey. I want him to explain why he picked Stacey? Why he raped her and what he got out it? I want to know and also have a feel of how he thinks. I want to see the hands that pinned down the body of a young girl not yet developed. I want him to tell me the source of his sexual fetish. Yes I want him to explain why grown up women cannot fulfil it where there is consent. I want him to explain and explain, yes in that dream. I want him to tell me if he can distinguish wrong from right. I have a dream I want talk to him and make him respond to my anger in person.
I will keep dreaming for her!!!

I dream for her every day because I have hope for her.

In Memory of Anene Booysen

Reblogged from Africa is a Country:

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Guest Post by Melinda Fantou

The road that leads to Bredasdorp, a small town about 180 km from Cape Town, meanders through barren fields shaved of the wheat they once nursed to maturity. The sheep sidle through protruding stalks, stomaching the lack of greener pastures. The resilient blue gums – the only trees that seem, ironically, to break the dullness of the Cape Agulhas region - lay their leaves to roast in the harsh sun.

Read more… 1,126 more words

Our fight against violence on women is a time capsule ..future generations are going to look back at our actions and the loud voices, and ideas and be truly thankful just as we are thankful for the women who strated the women's rights ideology..thanks Melinda for such insightful writing ..we will fight for her memory!! with love from Zimbabwe!!

Kuroorwa KwaMaidei part 1 : Zvinyorwa Zveshamwari Pafacebook


Asika zvekuti ijinda ramabo yakanga isiri nyaya yaizezesa sekutaura kwakanga kwaita tete. Ko yakagove mhosva here kuti akanga apenyerwa nemutunhu wemuchinda uyu.Ndiani aisaziva kuti Musarandega aiva rume rino ari hofori yadekadza kutarisa. Ko ihwo hunhu? Amaihwe Chisikana chakapishana nendangariro wena. Ari mundangariro kudai Maidei akafamba famba munhanga yevasikana achipiringishna nepfungwa kuti oita zvipi. Mumana mavo hapana akanga amboita zvanga zvafungwa nemhandara iyi . Ko yaiva mhosva here kuti akanga ada jaya iri asi aisakwanisa kusvitsa soko semunhu wechidzimai? Aizova mashura eshure zvikazivikanwa nemitunhu kuti ndozvanga aita.

 Zvino akati ndoita hwekudii? Chisikana chakaona kuti chikasangwarira yaizofa kwacho chakuona jinda rakunokumbira sadza kumwe iye aripo achishuvira kuita nyachide. Saka chakazoti dhuu kufunga ndokuona kuti hapana maitiro achaizoita asi pamusoro pemadanha ekuendesera jinda mvura padare nekunoritsvagira hacha dzinopenya. Nyaya ka iri pakuti zviri pamoyo zvinzwikwe. Panguva iyoyi chakabva chafunga kukumbira nhembe yomuninína wake nokuti yaiva pfupi uye yakanaka kuti chiende kunobata basa iri chakachena.

 ”Iwe Marwei ,Marwei” , chakadeedzera nezwi repamusoro

 ”Matiko taita?”

 ”Uya pano hausi kunzwa kuti ndabvira kare ndichikusheedza? mhanya kuno kurumidza!”

“Muri kudeiko nhai vakoma?” Marwei akadavira, achishamisika kuti nezwi raMaidei. Akaziva nechemumoyo kuti pane zvikuru zvaiva mupfungwa dzemukoma wake.

Chaasina kuziva maidei ndechekuti jinda raikwenya mhuno nekasiyamwawo kuti dai mwanasikana aridawo asi chaimunetsa ndechekuti Musarandega aigarotaura kuti Maidei aizofanira kuita mukadzi wake wechitatu.

Apa tete vaMadei vakanga vachirongawo yavo tsoro neparutivi. Vanga vakangomirira kuwana nguva yakasununguka yetaura zvaiva pamwoyo wavo kumwana wehanzvadzi yavo. Vakanga vave kungoti mangwana mangwana “muroora ndauya kuzoona kuti muri sei negumbo?”…..Apa Maidei mwoyo waingova kujinda ramambo.

Shoko rakanga rasvika munzeve dzaMadei kare kuti kwaMusarandega kwaidyiwa zvekuti vaitofungirwa kuti vane divisi saka pakadai ndiani aida kusara . Tete nyangwe vaiita zvekabisira mhandara yakanga yatowona kuti yaive neaimutsigira. Mushure mekunge akumbira shashiko iya mwansika akabva apinda mubishi rekuzvishongedza. Akatanga arova tsoka akananga kurwizi rwaMakaira ndokuzvidira mvura kusvika agutsikana kuti akanga awota. Mushure mezvo akatora chuma chaakanga apihwa nambuya Mandijinyura ndokuti pfee hake muchiuno umu. iwo mafuta emuchinu sandi kunyiminya ikoko. Musi uyu mafuta aya akaita kunge aziva kuti kwakanga kune basa rakakosha raida kuitwa. Akabva apenya zvekuti kana nyeredzi chaiyo yaisakwanisa kumira pamakwikwi iwayo.

Maidei akange akaumbwa Nyadenga aine nguva yakazara. Kumeso kusina kana bundu kuchitsvedzerera se ruredzo munguva ye zhizha. Vhudzi rake rakasvibira kunge tsvubvu dzakanyatsosvika. Icho chivakashure chake chaiteerana nemuviri huri hunyanzvi hwe Musiki. Iro dundundu rakati tushu kuzara kunge richafashukira nekoko.Izvozvi ndozvaimupa manyawi ekuendera murume aneruremekedzo saMusarandega. Chigagairwa chakapinda munzira chakananga nechekumabvazuva chafunga zano rekunopotsera shoko ku jinda riya.

Kana museve woda nyama unosvotoka pauta! Chakanga chabaya chikatyokera. Mwanasikana kanga azvipira kuti nyange zvaizogona kumushoresa asi shoko rinenge rasvika. Zvichitangirawo kuna vakuru, “hanzi kuraidza chembere muto wegwaya hunzi wati ifire mudziva!” Imwi woye “Ihurukudyungu muchembere wedatya” zvinotokunda ngoma kurira zvetsvarakadenga Maidei. ……… Iro jaha parakaona chigagairwa chichiuya hana yakaita seichatsemuka nekurova, ikagotanga kubika yega manhanga, “yanga yatova nzwira pamuviri tsvimbo yarova dapi!”……. izvi zvakaita kuti nyaya irereukire mwanasikana nekuti runako rwake rwakamuitira basa.

Her Cry ,My Cry


Her Cry my Cry

Love sees a deeper sight

The cry of another sister in another land is mine

Her rape is mine

Her torture is mine

Her hunger is mine

Her heavy load is mine

Floods or not we cry together

Her broken heart is mine

Her pain is mine

Her mutilation is mine

Her injustices I feed on

All shared within me

Yet in all this anguish I have hope for her, just like she has hope for my trouble to

When her passion is thwarted, mine is gone

When her soul wails for her freedom,  I’m a slave

When her hormones wreck havoc, I’m also emotionally unstable

In war zones we get hurt differently but the wound is deeper

when she cries;  mine eyes will burn with tears for nations

When she is beaten the scars are deeper in me as I relentlessly watch

When her man is broken into pieces for the believed, I fell like I’ll never love again

When her breast is cut I cease to  breast feed.

When they tell her to shut up, I’m silenced

When they make her drink vinegar my throat will shrink with forceful thirst

When her dreams remain dreams I sink to the way of the loser

if she can’t speak I’m,  mute

When she’s sad, I’m down in the dumps

When her children suffocate from oppression I’m barren

my cry is her cry

I cry for my sister in DRC, my vagina is torn with hers

I cry for my sister in Pakistan, they threw acid at me for dressing up

I cry for my sister in Kasese Uganda, they made me eat my mouth and my nose they cut this afternoon

I cry for my sister in South Africa, they raped me to death for being a lesbian

I cry my sister for Cote D’voire, Now I can’t support any party I want to

I cry for my sister in China, they tied my feet for their sexual pleasure

I cry for my sister in India, My value is now left to my prostituted life benefiting timber

I cry for my sister in Zambia, they’ve just cut my clitoris and they’ve sawn me up

I cry for my sister in Nepal, they’ve burnt me for defending my other sister

I cry for my sister in Pakistan, I have no idea where our husband and the father of my children is?

I cry for my sister in Egypt, they chased me from Tahir Square, now victory is for the men

I cry for my sister in Tunisia, the revolution I enjoy no more,   for I shall be remembered as martyr denied life

I cry for my sister in India ,raped me baseless on a moving bus, and figured the iron rod would bring me pleasure instead ,it ripped my intestines out, now I’m dead!!

I cry for my sister in Zimbabwe, I am in a shrinked space

I cry for my sister in Central African Republic; Kony is bailing for our blood in order to destroy womanhood which birthed him

I cry for my sister in Central African Republic, my dream man is a guaranteed rebel; Mr Right never existed after all.

I cry with my sister everyday for I am that voice in the desert crying and moving towards flowing peace

We dedicate our lives to building peace, where its possible to wake up one day without

A single thought, memory idea about war,

Everything and everyone will be positive minded and work for good only

And the language of war will become unspeakable and its voice inaudible

We are sisters in it for hope and lasting peace!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

The absence of Foreplay and Consensual Sex for the women of the world!!!!


Now you will forgive me for my language but I am  just plain angry on this article. How did the rape of Damini happen?  How did six men rape a woman in a moving bus for an hour? As an activist,  I keep trying to replay her rape in my mind, I so much want to understand why these attackers decided to rape her on that particular night. What was the conversation leading to the rape? Was the rape in the moment? I’ll be a bitch and ask what was she wearing was it provocative (since it’s their common excuse anyway). I have worked with rape victims in my line of work and there is nothing that is as destroying as failing to comprehend what happened to a victim in order to assist her. I feel frustrated because I can’t envision what happened to Damini. (her provisional name)

So yesterday I was working burning the midnight oil hoping to finish what I was doing that night. I wasn’t going to sleep till morning at all. So I decided to go through my newsfeed and there was the link that shattered my hope into pieces. The woman I had been praying for  was dead yet ever since I  got wind of the story I so much wanted her to live ,to eat normally again even thought she had lot a greater percentage of her intestines. To live and see justice..I rose from my bed where I was working from and started walking around the house. Suddenly I didn’t feel safe anymore. Something was not right. I was having panic attack from the anger; the torture of the mind that did not dare imagine how something like that would have happened.

 They say her brain was severely damaged due to the trauma but being that woman who treasures her vagina so much I wondered what that vagina went through. From the labia to the uterus, to the fallopian tube, ripping it off straight to the intestines. Six penises are a big number for one vagina in the moment I think. At this point we dare not think about their sizes- thickness and length, their state of decorum-cleanlines, HIV status Etc,.. To then use an iron rod. Ha hey!!! No No No  No No we can’t have that happening to any living being!! I cried and crawled around the house. Fortunately I was home alone. So I wailed for about an hour and went to sleep with a head ache.

Lest we forget her partner who happens to own a penis as well but he chose that night to take out for a movie and the other six chose to shut her body down gruellingly. We have no idea whether they were in a relationship or not but I feel that he is a hero without a name as well. He identified the attackers after going through that. Imagine he watched them for that hour? What kind of life is he going to live and to me that’s huge. And the men are quiet, no words of support for the fellow on social media or anywhere coming from the men of this world? And they accuse us of making noise about our violations when they choose to ignore their own. The attackers have been arrested. But for me that’s not enough, their names have to come out!!! They are on my hit list; whatever that means!!

My worry is the art of fore play seems to be dwindling isn’t it? Now it’s all about ripping and trashing women’s bodies where our sexuality is a source of punishment instead of pleasure. Ah this I refuse for my body.its special and so is every woman’s!! How is it possible that women in one part of the world enjoy some good loving whilst others are languishing from rape? And then what after that is there any hand that caresses her enough to convince her that she can receive pleasure for her body? Seriously do we really have to start the subject of consensual sexual relationships in the 21st Century?

No maybe we need to let the men of the world know that fore play is important to us where there’s consent and it should always be there. This business of any man thinking that they can insert their penises all the way to our intestines must stop. We deserve the intimacy for ensuring that existence of the human beings continues and giving birth to them and we can’t have those uteruses violated by the same men who want their name to be carried on. And I dare all the men in this world, rape will come to an end and that is going to happen soon!!

 

 

 

The Investigation Mafia: Why (and how) every man must be investigated before you date them


Never in my life did I ever imagine that I would be an investigation guru until I got to the dating stage. Now I do it with so much precision, Harare Central Police Officers should consider hiring me for high profile cases where they need background information on some of the criminals they are hunting for. There is nothing wrong with a woman employing some extra skills right? Eish, the things that life teaches us!! As a young attractive woman I meet different prospective men in my life and so do all the other women of the world. After nursing a couple of heart wrenching breakups you begin to develop what I call Survival Complexity Abilities which anchor or protect your heart from major setbacks which bad relationships bring.

So how do I do this: This trade, I must confess I learnt it from my sister who had good intentions for her little sister. I have so many sisters by the way, so I will not mention her name lest Private Investigators should clog her for her articulate for services but I must say she is good. As a young girl entering the dating game, I would always rush to my sister and let her know about any prospective partner. It would escape me, each time she would ask me if I knew the guy very well. My naïve response would come in handy. Of course, why would I introduce a guy I didn’t know to my sister who is family after all? Following this response, the grilling would come in the following sequence:
• What’s his full name?
• Which school did he go to?
• Is he intelligent?
• Is he respectful?
• Who are his friends?
• Where does he work?
• What does he do for a living?
• Are you sure he is not married?
• Where does he stay and do you have the address?
• How can you be so sure that he likes you?
• How many are they in their family and what does his siblings do?
• Which subjects did he do at A-level? (this one comes all the time)
• Is he cute?
• Will he fit into the Sengayi’s? (Apparently we are a happy bunch).
• Does he drink smoke?
• What’s his style like
• Is he the husband type?
• What are his temperament levels?
• Any information on his past relationships?
• Why did his last relationship end?
And many more. Of course I would find most of them irrelevant and what would really irk me about this whole experience was that by the time I decided to tell my sister about a prospective man she would grill me over his in-depth identity before I even had the opportunity to figure out whether I had any intentions to date whoever she was grilling me for about or not. So I let her be for a while until I had the biggest heartbreak of them all. Some men always find a way to do this.

Heart break of the Century

Every sane girl with some measure of authentic values never dreams of dating a married man. Worse still a married man purporting to be single. I used to brag and tell my friends that I can smell a married man who is 2000 kilometers away. I was too holy for that. But I was wrong. So I met this guy who was almost ideal. When I look back I had one of the most amazing dating experience even though it was for a short time. He was so respectful, warm and abnormally responsible. I had no reason to doubt him. And to top it all he was a writer. Now that was the cherry on top. Any woman would dream of having a man with a vision which is similar to hers so that we can talk and do what we love the most to the ends of the earth together. So we got all loving each other and I swear I checked whether he was married or not from his friends. In the two months we had some kind of a relationship, he gave me no reason to suspect that there was something misplaced about him.

But as fate would have it I found out . The Author published a book and all books have biographies at the back cover. Being an avid reader, he underestimated my relationship with INNOV 8, my favorite bookshop. As a serial book buyer, I got into my favorite shop and saw a book which hadn’t been talked about on the shelves. Ah what kind?? All this time I was being told that I am writing a book and getting narrations from something that had been published. But as I read the back cover on the bio of the Author I was broken and thrown into a pit of the fire of guilt. The bastard was married with a wife and had two children worth mentioning at the back cover of the book. How dull was this man; thinking that I would miss this when I all I live for is finding and creating good reads? I didn’t buy the book and may he plead with his ancestors that the spirit of naming and shaming doesn’t befall me in this article.

So I went home and didn’t cry neither did I communicate to end it. I fell into an untold silence. What I do know is he has since published a number of other books which I will not buy. But I did go after his friends and they will always remember me. After that experience I reflected and realized that my sister wasn’t fussy after all. I then decided to become an investigation prowess lest I get stripped of my dignity in important circles. From that day if a guy shows interest I leave no stone unturned. If I am really serious I can even give you your O-level results and tell you the exact time you were born. Yes I am that bad. So I joined forces with my sisters and my friends and we made a pact that we were going to look out for each other.

The Investigative Experience

My investigating experience has not been easy. I’ve had to find out things I wished weren’t true. The very things I didn’t want to believe about some men who are seemingly good. Hear me ladies this process is necessary. Over time some of my friends have had to cry on my weary shoulderafter discovering that a man is married after they are pregnant. Now that is a full cart to deal with when all you were supposed to do to save yourself was to find out who he works with and email one or two people, get to know who his siblings are and who their friends are and get the information you want on him and his family. It has been a learning experience and now I do not only use it on potential partners I use it for the other people in my circle. Better to be safe than sorry. Protection is the concept of the condom. I’m sure I don’t need to explain that.

The process

So this is how I do it and remember do not be afraid of getting caught.
1. Do a Google search- Someone’s Social Media behavior gives you an average of 50% of the information you need. Most men have fallen at this stage. The language, tone of the posts, and general commenting activity can tell you a lot about someone’s character and where he is coming from. And the pictures will give a visual idea of what he is capable of doing in different circumstances.
2. The next stage: Some people are rather deceptive on the Social Media Accounts so step number two is usually to verify if what you got on their Facebook or Google plus status is true. ( by the way Google is my favorite brand). This will get you more information. This is when you get to find out who is in his circles and befriend them with an objective agenda. (Remember they are also a potentially dangerous element in the positive or the negative). Ask the basic of open ended questions and don’t be so direct with this group of people remembering they are dangerous.
3. The workplace is a place which should be respected but a man who does not align you with his workmates in some way; trivial or evasive is very dangerous. Here is why: People have some level of respect at work because of how they behave there. So the conduct of his workmates around him can tell you a lot about a guy especially his levels of ascertaining responsibility. You don’t have to go to his workplace, just find someone who knows someone there to do it for you. Remember dignity is to be maintained the whole time. That’s where his livelihood comes from so a lot of information can come from there. If he doesn’t work try his schoolmates at all levels from primary school to tertiary level. After all you need to know how educated your man is? This is very critical ladies you’d rather date a man less educated than you are out of choice than be deceived into it. The cost will choke you out of life.
4. Church for me is a little bit tricky. I’ve met men from church and I run all the time. This is me. We have this thing of assuming holiness at church. God bless our souls. If only we could put out heart and true characters to worship then some of us wouldn’t have joined the ZRP of dating but hey look at me now. Clad in Uniform and looking good and safe in it.
5. If he manages to sail through this step. EXPOSE HIM to your friends first and if he is worth it, to your family preferably those of your age who also have an investigative eye which is better than yours. In our culture its wiser to start from there.
6. Any unclear things you then ask him with evidence from all the other sources I highlighted above. This part is important. Never ask a man about things you don’t have evidence for. He will find the leverage to lie once he gets to know that you are tipped from ignorance. Knowledge is power.

This should be done before you get into a relationship with someone, at a point where you are more objective and critical of yourself. Investigating after you start dating for me defeats the whole purpose because we tend to shut down when we are in love and can hardly listen to anyone. Now this advice ladies comes with much opposition but it has saved many. Some people say desperate women go about investigating man. But what is so desperate about protecting yourself about things that are hazardous to your life? You must investigate ladies. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Getting Caught

I have been caught a number of times but that does not stop me at all. In fact in the last investigative epic we both went to investigate each other from the same person. It was quite a hilarious moment but then men do it also. Usually after I get caught I become more aggressive about the search. So why not us!! I also get other people to investigate for me in cases where I feel it’s volatile for me to trade. Whilst we do some measure of investigating, my call in this blog article is for us to go deeper and be a bit more through on this whole “getting to know someone thing”. Some women have died because they chose not to know before they got into the relationships, some woke up with bruises, some found out after they got married that he had been divorced 50 times, some realized that he couldn’t keep a job, that some were criminals and elevated misers who couldn’t even spare a cent for anything. You have to know before you get into a relationship. Don’t be caught by the things you don’t know!!
I’m out!!!!
This Bog Article is dedicated to the Sengayi girls..love you guys hope I didn’t let too many cats out of the bag lol!!