Harare, October 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You are gorgeous -

Replete with blossom:

Purple, yellow, red.

Bougainvillea tangles in

Careless clusters

And jasmine perfume hangs in the air

as night falls.

Skies are hazy blue

And soporific sun lulls us

Into feeling

Everything is OK.

Sounds of the city rise:

Chatter and laughter and

Business as usual

And a red-gold light-snake

Weaves its way through

Jacaranda-ed streets.

Your beauty is a curse

Permitting men,

Believing that they own you,

To exploit and abandon and

Numb themselves to

The ragged child begging cents

Under the purple rain

And the thousand thousand

Stomachs sleeping hungry.

We patch our pockmarked roads

Like we patch our integrity

And our pockets

And our make-a-plan spirit:

Plastic surgery disguising

Ugly Truth.

Msasa Season

Somewhere under the dry, cracked earth, a match
Is lit, and flame is fanned by August wind,
Setting fire to the roots set deep in hills:
The air is garnet-filtered radiance.
Flickers of bronze and gold and rusty red
Fuse in extravagant pin-pricked grandeur.

This is the fire that births new life, not death.
Memory: the ancient wisdom and wonder
Before innocent expectation green -
Emerges in first light against blue hills.

It is a brief moment of majesty,
The blazing glory of deep-down magic
Stirring to remind the observant soul
To source the echo in the fire. 

Be the Change

I left the UK to come back home and be part of change. I was all full of hope and inspiration after the #thisflag campaign and had visions of marches and protest signs and stay-aways – no really, you can ask my family. There are no photos of me at any marches or protests - not in this country anyway. Perhaps it was my Jessastrous energy – my return spelled the end of the social movement – but it seems unlikely I would have such a cosmic influence.

So what to do? I attended an inter-party open forum on Zim after 2018. Bad news folks, it does not look good. According to that meeting, post 2018 Zimbabwe is a black hole. Not a single party represented had anything remotely inspiring – or even concrete – to offer a room full on young, interested, voters. The major parties ‘were not at liberty to reveal [their] post-election strategy’ for fear there were Zanu-PF spies in the room. Really? What is the danger of revealing a plan to improve, I don’t know, ANY of our current socio-economic woes? Zanu-PF was predictably not in attendance but after 37 years of being in the driving seat, it seems foolish to expect anything other than more of the same. I left that meeting, as I would assume most people did, utterly depressed.

A fortnight later, Fadzayi Mahere announced her decision to run as MP for Mount Pleasant constituency. My gut reaction? Hallelujah.

There comes a point in a moment of crisis when each must ask herself what she should do that would be most beneficial to the cause. With a year to go before the National Election, I don’t honestly believe there was another logical option for Fadzayi – other than to bow out and say she had tried – which would have been a perfectly justifiable choice.

Fadzayi is running in a constituency in which I believe she has at least a decent shot at victory and she has a team behind her who are loyal, honourable and committed – and they keep her grounded. She has taken an enormous personal risk and has put herself on the front line - but she is no fool and she is no coward. Fadzayi and her team know it will be hard and long and possibly painful, but if we can get her over the finish line, there will be at least one MP in parliament who I know will speak on my behalf and fight for issues to be addressed that are not only relevant to residents of Mount Pleasant constituency, but relevant to all Zimbabweans. She will argue intelligently and eloquently about policies that matter to ordinary people, and she will not be hamstrung by political infighting and party politics.

In parliament, a lone voice may well have no breadth of influence but that’s not on her – frankly it’s (over)time for politicians to recognise that they have a personal choice to follow conscience or selfish interest.  And maybe one courageous voice is enough to inspire a choir.

She has a lot to learn – of course she does – but I would rather support an inexperienced but passionate and qualified independent candidate than a party of empty promises and lacklustre leadership. And besides – the campaign isn’t actually about Fadzayi Mahere alone. It’s about Zimbabweans coming face to face with their own civic responsibilities – change doesn’t happen in parliament – it happens in individuals and neighbourhoods and communities. If you want change, you have to be the change.

So that’s why I’m backing Fadzayi. Because she offers a small flame of hope. And that is all you need to keep moving forward. 

Fare forward, travellers!

"Fare forward, travellers! not escaping from the past

Into different lives, or into any future;

You are not the same people who left that station

Or who will arrive at any terminus,

While the narrowing rails slide together behind you;

And on the deck of the drumming liner

Watching the furrow that widens behind you,

You shall not think 'the past is finished'

Or 'the future is before us'." (T.S.Eliot "The Dry Salvages" in Four Quartets

Here I am: moving backwards and forwards at the same time. One year from 30, at the end of one chapter and at the start of another. 

In the past year, there have been numerous weddings and (at least) a dozen babies born - these elusive rites of passage are not mine, though it has been thrilling to be witness to so much happiness in the lives of my nearest and dearest. I have had different adventures this year: living on my own (sort of); buying a fridge (very grown up purchase); juggling (not altogether successfully) three related but also quite different jobs; and moving country for a career change (starting from scratch... again) - along with a host of other slightly less dignified exploits (such as will be chronicled in due course). 

Thus, this blog will be an assortment of posts - some comical reminiscences of jessasters, along with more serious, reflective pieces about my present endeavours. The past is not finished, nor is this about the future before me, and so, let the chronicles begin!