Love diary

My expedition in the quaking realm of love began in my wee years, when I first could tell apart a man from a woman. In the small township of Nkulumane in Bulawayo, where I grew up, lived a girl named Sithembile. Sithembile’s family and ours were neighbours. She was about six then, the same age as I was. She resembled to me an angel, an extraordinary creature of beauty. She was my first crush.

Somehow, one day I found myself behind a closed toilet door with Sithembile, experimenting with what we had heard brought about children like us into the world. Unfortunately, we were inexperienced and made a lot of noise trying to figure out what exactly to do that we got caught before we could actually do anything. That day is still vivid in my mind. I can almost still feel my mother lashing me on my buttocks for my antics.

This was just the beginning of my life’s trials at love. After Sithembile, I loathed the female species. Throughout my primary school years I never liked girls. They were to me these atypical creatures who were slow at athletics, cried before they were beaten in class, and whose ambitions centred on being drum-majorettes.

Even so, when I was in Grade Seven one girl turned the tides of my judgments around. Her name was Nonzipho. Nonzi, as we affectionately called her, was elegant, smart and charming. She was light in complexion, tall, fair, and smiled like a model. She was different from other girls; in short she was my new world.

I was however lousy in dealing with my emotions that everyone soon knew about my crush before I could even make a move. I was called by my teacher and intensely interrogated about my intentions. I became a laughing stock as everything became public and Nonzi was revered. Resultantly, I hated her until I left primary school.

My secondary education was as dry as the Sahara as far as relationships were concerned. My parents posted me to a Boys’ school and I rotted there. Periodically though, our school would organize trips to our sister school and we would catch glimpses of what we desired to be chasing on a daily basis. At one instant, a girl named Rejoice from our sister school had a serious crush on me and did not hide her feelings from me, even though she was two streams older than me. On one of our trips to their school she led me to the back of the classrooms and started conversing intimately. Naively, I did not even make a move. It was not until after I had returned to my school that I realized I had missed my opportunity for a first kiss. Rejoice never replied any of my mails after that incidence.

Ultimately, what I may call my breakthrough came when I was now doing my A’ level. I opted out of the boys’ school to a co-ed school. This did not augur well with my mother and we had a fierce altercation over my decision. I was nonetheless determined to get my way; I would not age without a girlfriend. I had to be exposed to the real world.

This is where I met Bongi, my first love. She was like the Lamborghini of cars, like the Gucci of clothing; simply what I thought had been God-sent and tailor made for a brother like me. We hit it off like the school had been our playground. We were the talk of the school; the ideal teenage couple. This was love.
Sadly, after more than a year together, our relationship started wobbling. It seemed as if I was losing grip of the newly found love. And indeed, I was. Someone scooped Bongi off her feet and she dumped me still believing we had something special. Nothing could describe the hurt in my heart at that time. I was angry, frustrated, robbed, empty, and bitter. I was left void like a kid who had just had his lollipop jerked from his mouth by a bully. This was my first heartbreak.

Scarred like a wounded bull, I went to college with the mentality that all girls were the same; none legitimate. I approached several of them but never really zeroed in on one. I became the hunter and they the hunted. I was the mac-daddy. Deep inside though, I still yearned for that one true love. She never came.

At one time I had a fling with this girl who was cheating on her long term boyfriend. I knew she was cheating; I was her comfort shoulder when she was stressed. We would cuddle up, kiss, and fondle like we were lovers. The thrill of not being attached was what kept us going. Physical contacts however often lead to emotional ties. The wussy character in me overcame the strong macho personality I had developed and in no time I was telling her how much I loved her and spoiling her with gifts. Our fling did not last more than a month thereafter.

With a long string of heartbreaks, I resorted to abstaining from girls. The peer pressure from friends to try other shots at love was strong, but a scarred child will always hesitate to go near a fire again. I knew the pleasures of being in a relationship, but also I needed to recuperate before I could get on the love boat again. I hoped the next relationship would be the special one….

Ends.

Could ‘bride price’ be facing extinction

The issue of payment of bride price is fast emerging to be one of the most controversial in the context of Gender Based Violence. Participants at the National Policy Dialogue organized by Southern African HIV and AIDS Dissemination Services (SAfAIDS) in Harare titled “Harmonizing traditional laws and practices and general laws that address women issues, Gender Based Violence and HIV and AIDS” highlighted that bride price could be done away with as it discriminates against girls and women.

Women in particular raised concerns that the payment of bride price is becoming highly commercialized, with girls being viewed as assets that can be traded for economic gains. This scenario is inflamed in the Zimbabwean context where the hyperinflationary environment is rendering most forms of livelihood unviable, leaving the majority with very few to no options at all for sustenance. Parents were castigated for now looking forward to marrying off their children to ameliorate themselves from the scorches of the harsh economy.

With an estimated inflation rate of over 253 million percent in Zimbabwe, most families are charging bride price exorbitantly in foreign currency as the local currency is quickly eroded. Some are even charging in valuable assets like vehicles. A custom that once brought pride to the bride now leaves her feeling void and used a circumstance that has led to a number of premature break-ups of intended marriages.

“In the Ndebele culture, bride price was paid by the husband’s family to signal that the bride does not belong to the husband but to the family,” said Phathisa Nyathi, a renowned traditionalist and historian.

“As a result, if the husband started battering the wife, his own relatives had a basis for intervening. They would cite that they also had a stake in the paying of the bride price hence the husband had no right to batter their daughter in law”, he added.

As it is there are huge disparities between the tradition of bride price and the current scenario where women appear to be sold off into marriage.

Consequently, bride price is seen as fuelling discrimination and gender based violence as its allotment can somehow be viewed as inequitable and the custom may result in husbands claiming ownership over their wives’ bodies. Traditionally, the mother of the bride is allocated one beast from those that are charged, and some other items like clothes and groceries. The father, in addition to the clothing, normally gets up to eight cattle depending on how many the family would have charged. This was perceived as inequitable division of the bride price.

“These are some of the gaps that need to be addressed in drafting new policy documents. A scenario where the bride price is shared equally would be more equitable from a gender perspective,” said Emilia Muchawa, Executive Director of the Zimbabwe Women’s Lawyers Association (ZWLA).

This view is however controversial as some women still uphold this allotment and view it as equitable. The beast that is allocated to the mother is hers to keep. The other beasts allocated to the father can however be shared amongst the bride’s brothers and/or uncles or be slaughtered for meat altogether. In this light, some women feel that they are given their due respect through this customary allotment. Furthermore some families do not recognize payment of bride price unless the bride’s mother’s beast is paid.

Although some women’s activists call for the scrambling of bride price, many women would not want their daughters to be married off without the payment of bride price.

Evidently the custom of paying the bride price still holds great value in Zimbabwe and in many parts of sub-Saharan Africa. It is a symbol of cultural identity. It initiates family relations and formalizes the transition from courtship to marriage. In this way also, the bride’s family feels honored to see the commitment of the groom to marrying their daughter.

Overall, the issue of bride price payment remains inconclusive. Although it was highlighted at the National Policy Dialogue workshop that it may be necessary to make the payment of bride price optional, it is very unlikely that many people will accept such a transformation to the custom which lies as the epicenter of most African marriages.

An analysis of the purposes of these time-honored customs is necessary before any amendments are made to traditional laws. Likewise, the objectives of the payment of bride price need to be revisited in order to bridge the gaps that exist in liberating women from gender based discrimination.