men in my life

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!!

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Batai mazwi

Doctors without Ethics: My Diabetec Journey


Doctors without ethics
In 2011, on the 29th of March around 7pm I walked out of my doctor’s surgery, I walked out of the doctor’s office in disbelief. My tests had tested positive for diabetes…I couldn’t believe it. I cried like I’ve never done before but it didn’t change anything. I just couldn’t understand, I so much wanted my youthfulness to save me but genetics took its course. As I reflect on my diabetic experience it has been a journey. I can now say with confidence and not enjoy hearing it, that I am a strong woman. It’s been 25 drips, a month in hospital, and 50 units overdose of insulin instead of the prescribed 5units, several hypoglycaemic attacks, and bouts of low blood pressure, minor strokes, and losing much of the use of my left hand…when I reflect I have no choice but to come to a conclusion that I am alive for a purpose.
Today I woke up not feeling well. This made me reflect on my journey with diabetes for the close to two years now. I couldn’t help noticing that I have been subjected to gross medical malpractice and I just cannot figure out how I am still alive at times.

I have changed my general practitioners more than 4 times in the two years , and I’ve had three different specialists. Is something wrong with our Health sector such that different doctors make the same mistakes on a patient? Still wondering, I also question why I have to pay USD 80 per session to get a doctor to do a review for ten nanoseconds and then he writes a prescription card with pain relief tablets for a diabetic patient facing complications. Has anyone experienced this or it’s just me?
Today, I told myself that I wasn’t going to the doctor. I would lie in and work a little bit. I’ve had flu for the past three weeks so now I’m tired and I just want to be well. But the thought of getting another doctor just drains me. My current doctor keeps accusing me of not maintaining my sugar levels well which is why I’m not getting better even after a full course of antibiotics. It’s the same diagnosis all the time. No suggestion for any other tests like an X-ray or something.

It has been a journey of unethical practice
My first GP was a good man, young and enthusiastic about his job. From the onset when I walked into his office with a swollen face and feet he told me that I was diabetic. I laughed at him and told him that he was out of his mind out rightly. So we proceeded to do tests for kidney, liver function tests and but not diabetes. I thought I was young. Finally I agreed to the diabetes test reluctantly. Deep down I was tipped to get positive tests for the condition, there was no way out. Most of my family members had the condition. I just knew but I was in reasonable denial. I went for it and he was right. I did several other tests until we had exhausted them all. On this particular day of the 29th of March my doctor sat me down and told me that I didn’t need further confirmation. I was running out of time but I needed to be sure. I was already losing my sight by the day. So I walked out of the surgery and went to sit on the pavement along Fourth Street. In the moment it was the end. Before I had left I had asked for a referral to see a specialist physician and that was the beginning of the diabetic terror.

I was given options and I went for the one he recommended and that was the beginning of a horrendous journey with several doctors. The first thing that made me doubt the practicing abilities of this man was that he asked me to remove my top in the absence of a nurse. I asked for a nurse to be present and refused to have any procedure or observation done on me in her absence. Armed with my previous tests the physician just announced that I had been I had been admitted. Before I knew it I was at the Westend Clinic on a trial run for insulin which they call a sliding scale. Whilst the tests had proved that I was diabetic, the specialist did not even bother to confirm on the diabetes type before prescribing the insulin type. For three days I was starved having abruptly put on a diabetic diet, whilst the nurses were teaching me to inject myself. I couldn’t contain all this so for all the five days which I stayed in Hospital, so I decided to be numb. This specialist had taken over convincing my parents to proceed with whatever he was deciding.I wasn’t consulted at all.

I left the hospital and went home and I started injecting myself. It was torture just waking up and realizing that I was now living with a certain condition. My mum, just like me had a feeling that even though the tests were positive for diabetes, prescribing insulin was a little bit over the top considering that my readings were not extremely high. We went to the Zimbabwe Diabetes Association just to get support and more information once. After the visit I didn’t want to go back there anymore. The counsellor who handled my case then told me explicitly that young women like me with diabetes have trouble getting marriage partners. I was pissed off because I hadn’t gone there to look for a man I just needed help and some information on my condition. So I walked out and never went back.

In the few days that I went home my sugar levels rose and unfortunately I had to go back to the hospital and this time for a month. I stayed in a different private hospital with unprofessional nursing staff and one of them almost killed me after injecting 50mls of insulin instead of just 5. I was also on drip for the month that I was in hospital until the last week when I removed it and dared anyone to put it back; my mind was made up then. I was fed up of lying down and having my life turned upside down by a doctor who kept me in hospital because he felt that I wasn’t responsible enough to inject myself at 25 and also to see if the overdose of insulin hadn’t affected me. He wasn’t even professional enough to monitor his own staff to see if the nurses were doing the right. I had raptured veins from the drips and scars all over my hands. I was just grateful that at least I was administering the insulin myself.

I started on insulin at home watching my diet and after about two months I realized that I was the whole of my left side was getting numb and I was grinding my teeth to a point of making noises. I remember my cousin coming to check if I was breathing at times. Sometimes, I just went to bed not sure if was going to wake up. I watched my thigh getting scarred from the injections each day. And when I told my doctor of the complications he simply said I wasn’t monitoring my diet well. And so did the next, no one paid attention to the fact that I was slowly stroking, in the care of qualified medical personnel. I went for physiotherapy. After paying thousands in medical bills I finally decided to go to South Africa for treatment.

A whole new medical experience
My SA experience was quite unbelievable. I went to Johannesburg General Hospital and was seen by a Masters student. In 30 minutes, I was seen by a professor of medicine after the student referred me to her. I paid R200 which is just about 24USD. From there I had several tests done including X-rays all for 24dollars. Apparently, I paid more because I was a foreigner. After that I went home and came back for the results. The professor explained to me plainly that they were not sure which diabetes type I was so they couldn’t treat me until they were sure. The next step was to go to Zimbabwe and record my sugar levels for a month and come back for more tests. They were not in a rush to treat something they did not know.
A month later, I was back in South Africa , this time since had registered in the Diabetic Clinic I was not going to pay for anything to see professors of medicine treating me. Now that blew me away. On the day of my review, a team of doctors met to review my blood sugar level recordings and they interviewed me. And this was in a public hospital with several hundreds of patients also getting the same treatment. My diagnosis came. It was something I never heard all the Zimbabwe doctors mention. My condition was that of a MODY-Maturity Onset Diabetes of the Young or type 1.5. All along I was being treated for type 1 diabetes hence the minor stroke. My condition was less serious than what I was being treated for. It was a condition which I could manage with a diet control or just oral tablets not injections. I wasn’t admitted or anything no drip, nothing? How do you administer 25 drips on a patient who is not dehydrated?

The trend
From that time I have heard of people who die due to malpractice, just few days ago we lost a family member who was pregnant at Parirenyatwa. The initial diagnosis was that she had meningitis and they started treatment when the sample for the tests hadn’t gone to the lab. The contents were just by her bedside until she died. What puzzled me is that upon collecting the body they had removed the baby from her womb and a fellow patient confirmed that she had gone to the theatre the night she died. Since when do we have people being operated on without the next of kin signing any papers? Had I continued to listen to doctors what would have happened to me. I shudder to think about it.

There’s a lot of malpractice going on unnoticed and the sad thing is we have never heard of cases where these doctors have been prosecuted. As for the doctor who kept me in the hospital for a month I fixed him myself. I knew the courts would trivialise the issues. So when his office started calling me in regards to their bill which ran into thousands bugging my dad about it. I went there and explained calmly how he almost killed me and I never heard from them again. He knew he was wrong.

We then need to question as Zimbabweans that apart from the huge bills which we are running are we then getting the values for our money. Is the doctor always right? What has the medical Professions council done about all this? Shouldn’t they be doing medical spot checks for women? One of the things I dream of is for Zimbabwe to have a state of the art hospital; for women and would want Zimbabwean medical professionals to run it. But after this I’m stuck.
As I look at my hand (see pic). It reminds me if the slow resurrection of the health sect and unassuming political will by pour leaders to ensure that as a country we have the best health care.

My hand . fortunately for me I can still use it for most tasks..

On a day like this when I do not have time to go to South Africa to get treated I get goose bumps before I go to the doctor. I’d rather stay at home and monitor my sugar levels myself than to go and get wrong treatment. This is not to say all of them are not good. I had the privilege of being treated by a good man, Professor Matenga one of the first few black doctors in Zimbabwe. The other time as I was giving him my medical history he said something that I heard well, he said “You need to have some kind of knowledge about that thing living in you and you don’t need to pay a lot of dollars for that. Diabetes is a basic disease. Knowledge on medicine is not only for health professionals.” My physiotherapist said “Nyasha it’s up to you to live. Make that choice to live. If you do that they won’t kill you.”

men in my life

The Men in my life


(Wrote this some time back. I felt that it’s relevant to celebrate men on their special day. Happy International Men’s day Gentlemen)

I read anything on Nelson Mandela. What he writes

and anything written on him. He’s been one man who is consistent in word and

action which tallies with the success in his life. He has an authentic voice which

calls for change with each minute ticking. Lately I’ve been spending a lot of

time reading up on him since it’s the only way I can get closer to him. I would

have loved to meet with him and have a one on one with him over a cup of Earl Grey Tea. Talk to him and ask him

about how he feels about Zimbabwe; whether we should all hit jail for 27 years

in order to see change coming to this nation which is failing in obscurity. Today

I’m not talking about Zimbabwe. Just like most people, I’m suffering from

burnout when it comes to my country which is why these days I’m taking time to

celebrate things which really matter in my personal life like the men in my
life, for instance.

I remember the first time I read the Long Walk to

Freedom by Nelson Mandela. It was a beautiful book. I couldn’t put it down even

though I didn’t understand half the things which were in the book. I was

17years old. I even memorized the first paragraph
of the first chapter,

‘Apart from life, a strong constitution and an

abiding connection to the Thembu Royal House, the only thing my father bestowed
upon me was a name Rolinhlanhla…….’

I just loved the whole book. I’ve been collecting
his books ever since and anything written down on him ever since.

Mandela has inspired me immensely as a feminist. I

look to some of his best ideas for inspiration in my quest to work on pooling

new to the world strategies on influencing change for women and girls. I have

always found Nelson’s commitment hard to resist and the way he is firmly

positioned on principle. I just love it. Every woman dreams of being cuddled by such. After

gathering a lot of information on this icon I began to reflect on the men in my

personal space. How they have influenced who I am and where I’m going. It is

amazing with each thought I began to appreciate the masculine role in my vision

more. At the moment they are three men in my life my dad and my two brothers.

They’ve been amazing. Of course there’s a huge space for that one special one
on his way.

My father

has been my closest expression of wisdom. I treasure my moments with him. The

memories he has created for me have set the pace for me to want change for

other people. I hold closest to my heart the conversations I have with him when

I go home. The privilege I have to sit with him and discuss the most intricate

issues about life. How we share life lessons on Mandela. I started watching

news with my father as a young girl and it is him who taught me how to pursue

information. I also remember that hug he gave me on 3 December 2011.I just held

him close. In the moment of that hug I realized that I was going far because of

inspirational wisdom from this man. He has his faults but I choose not to see

them. Tate and Taku my brothers have been my pillars. I can’t even begin to
share. I would need volumes.

I’m not a feminist because I’m out to vent my

heart breaks to men. I’m just one because I feel that the plight of women needs

to be advanced economically, socially and politically. Simple. The funny thing

about my passion which I question everyday is that I draw my passion from men. Most

of the opinion leaders in my life are men.

They are men who are not related to me who are

not necessarily legends at the moment but they are on their way there. Men who

have sat me down to discipline me, to support dreams they did not envision, men

who have been opinion leaders in my career. Some I’ve pursued to get what I wanted.

One of them has taught me about choice and I have been choosing ever since. I’m

not going back to where I was before got into that lift that day. One day I’ll

name them one by one and put them in the ‘limelight’. Tell the whole world what

they’ve done for the women of this generation. As we draw closer to August 9 my

birthday and women’s day; I just had to take time to celebrate men and how

their influence has sunk me in my passion. Let’s love and respect our men. Make
them special!!!!!!

Writing for Women's Development

We are tired too…


A few days ago I emailed my colleagues in DRC offering messages of support in wake of the attempted murder of DR Mukwege, a man I respect and honour for the work he has done in giving life to the women who have suffered sexualized violence in DRC. Eagerly, I waited for my friends to respond to my email and give some sort of assurance that somehow they were managing and they were okay. So I in the midst of my hectic schedule I kept checking mail until today.
When I go through posts, blogs of women who are working to advance the rights of women in difficult circumstances usually I get the impression that these feminist heroes are doing well and they are coping. I even go further to envy them for their courage to work in such trying environments. It’s almost as if these women are invincible daring and ready to fight the rebels. But today the email I got made me reflect on a lot of things about war and women working to advance their rights.

I realized that you can never imagine the experience of war unless it has been your lived reality. Perhaps this is the reason why the war has raged on whilst the world is watching. The people who really can make decisions on the DRC Conflict are not on the war front themselves. So I cried to myself wondering why the culture of peace is such an evasive concept for the players in war. We have talked about the DRC war for years and it never ended now there’s Syria. Within me I cried a dry cry today as I tried to imagine what these women are going through. In her mail Marie said she’s tired. I think I am tired too of sending emails in solidarity to these women. I have been doing it for the past two months now I’m beginning to think there’s more that can be done by women of the world to stop war in DRC. Rise,Strike and dance going forward.

Batai mazwi

From hand to Mouth with a Dream


The Realization
The common sight you find in Harare these days is a group of young people moving from one internet Café to the other. I am working from home out of choice these days and I left my job to write and create other new ideas in my very own space. I am not sure if that’s the case with most young people I see working on their laptops in internet Cafes, sitting in the same WIFI spot and conducting their meetings there. A few months back before I earned enough money to set up home internet for my work I was one of them and from the beginning I told myself that I had to get out of that zone if I wanted to make it in the immediate future as campaign strategist. As I rightly figured, most of us starting up projects and companies in Zimbabwe particularly amongst young people .we are living from hand to mouth. Borrowing to make ends meet and to get just a few dollars to go on the internet where everything is almost happening. So before I even thought of getting an office for my NGO Branding Project; Source International Zimbabwe I realized that I am one of these young people living from hand to mouth but my dream of engaging women of the world is real. At this point I’m not sure if funding partners will give me a second look in my office which is my room filled with large files and books, my modem, etc.. In this regard I’m sure it is every young person’s dream to start well but slowly as I progress and as I get recognized by the day I realize that I might just make it because I believe in the best resource which I have ..and that is me.

Fake or Real
The fact that I don’t have an office and the next thing which legitimises what I’m doing is my business card and the trust deed, does not entail that I’m a fake development consultant. A lot of people have reprimanded me to stop claiming that I am a consultant because I do not have an office or I haven’t really made it to lay such a claim on my name. Initially I listened to them and I’ve done so for the past two years. But I woke up one day and realized that it was time to create my own space whether my name and work was recognizable or not. It has been a difficult journey because as I watch my project grow I can’t help but want more for it, and more for the people I work with. All of this, being difficult to attain when the world wants you to prove yourself first before they can support you.
I have started to send in Calls of interests for consultancy tasks and I know the next thing they are going to ask me is where are your offices? Try telling them that you don’t have offices and they will kiss you goodbye. But I’m good at what I do. The few organisations which have taken an interest in what I do have not regretted working with me. I’m sure I even do better than those with offices since some of them sub contract me to do the work which they present to international organisations. So there I am little known without an office but critically contributing and fighting to be visible every day of my life. I do all of these tasks on my bed without a desk or in the lounge on our dinner table. Sometimes whilst there’s a blackout ,thanks to ZESA. I have made it somehow and I have managed to start without much. The other day, I almost cried because now more than ever I need an interactive website running by January 2013 in order to get young people writing for development in Zimbabwe. So I woke up at three and went on the internet and I searched for information on how websites are designed and I have started working on one. Yes the History student has started designing websites. Slowly I rise to become relevant. On top of my work I exchange my expertise for resources which are not always financial. Currently I’m doing a strategic working document for someone who has pledged to develop graphics for my brand. Yes I am finding ways to make it without money and the important thing is the work is going on. The office will come but for now my genuine intentions tell me that if I wait for adequate resources I will miss everything which my dream entails.
I don’t think the quality of the work which I am doing will be compromised because of my location. I am not fake, I just have an untold story and I am so sure most young people I meet on the street s of Harare who have sound and Innovative ideas have a similar story to tell as well.
Living from hand to mouth
I have a big dreams and ideas which I believe will create relevant action and will make the much needed difference in advancing women’s rights not only in Zimbabwe even all over the globe . This is why I decided to create an organisation with a global focus. When I shared the idea with most of my colleagues their initial reaction was its good to start small then you grow from there. I heard it from birth but as I awaken I realize that its almost as if it’s a mentality that no one is allowed to start big or rather is supposed to project big when starting something.
I have worked hard in trying to create space to get young women to be visible on the development agenda. We were small then and we remained so till I left. In the 3 years that I have worked with them I realised at the end of it all that I also needed to be empowered just like the young women I was working with. This was actually a difficult thing to discover because I had always thought that my contribution to the communities as a development worker of some sort I had leverage to develop better but I was wrong. Stuck and feeling like I couldn’t have it all at work I decided to start all over and reflect. The whole three years which I worked I never got financial empowerment to finance my ideas. I left my job with just but a dream. I needed to take charge of life with in a different and neutral space. As I resigned I forgot two things that I was 27 and the reality that I needed money to survive. But then I had remembered two things as well and they were force full; that I had a new progressive dream and I was the only one who could create that space. So with vigor I went home to work. In the moment I then came to appreciate one thing: that the things you don’t know, life will teach you in a harsh manner almost always.
The Lesson
For you start anything you need money even if it’s non-profit if you have no money you struggle and that’s just how it is. Money will make bringing a dream to come true a little bit easier. It makes networking easier and efficient you can plan well ahead, and you can do away with some bottle necks. So was I wrong to start working on this initiative with nothing? Technically I don’t think I was wrong for starting but I do know that I was wrong to assume that everyone will buy into it on its inception and resources will not be much of an issue. I was wrong to a point of frustration. There I was almost stuck with nothing but just my writing to remind me that I still have it in me to come up with something.
So this afternoon, as I write this article I realized that even though I am going through a rough patch physically, mentally, financially and socially (my friends are dwindling). I have lessons which no one could have taught me had I not experienced this space. As I rise in my spirit, I tell myself that the younger generation that seeks to start social Entrepreneurship projects need not to go through what I went through. My take is we can create better and cheaper ways of getting young people to initiate developmental perspectives that will make Africa critically visible on the globe. We can’t continue the conversation which reminds the world that starting something is difficult. That’s not true and it’s not a progressive reality. The resources are us.

The poet in me

Dance


I sit wrapped up

Soiling my emotions in a corner

my needy element wanting more

of the liberation that comes from choice

I want to dance and make serious choices at the same time

to lift myself in elated splendor and not think about the low moments of this world

I want to raise my esteem in acceleration,

to teach myself how to dance ,

So i can talk about anything which doesn’t make sense and not be judged

I want to dance on the mountaintop of love

and sit under the shade of the tree of passion

I want my dance to flow together with great rivers

and sway their pride like the Zambezi

oooh letting the whole world see me dance from one hip to the other

moving my feet for the peace of the world

I want

I want

I will not stop wanting to dance

Will you please dance with me ,

Well at least for the sake of brightening up this gloomy world!!

all drained and dreary

yet ready

Quotable Quotes from Machuma

Dance


I sit wrapped up

Soiling my emotions in a corner

my needy element wanting more

of the liberation that comes from choice

I want to dance and make serious choices at the same time

to lift myself in elated splendor and not think about the low moments of this world

I want to raise my esteem in acceleration,

to teach myself how to dance ,

So i can talk about anything which doesn’t make sense and not be judged

I want to dance on the mountaintop of love

and sit under the shade of the tree of passion

I want my dance to flow together with great rivers

and sway their pride like the Zambezi

oooh letting the whole world see me dance from one hip to the other

moving my feet for the peace of the world

I want

I want

I will not stop wanting to dance

Will you please dance with me ,

Well at least for the sake of brightening up this gloomy world!!

 

all drained and dreary

yet ready