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Fadzayi Maposah-Correspondent
Many kitchen huts are built the same, people are transforming the set up but maintaining a bit of the original touch.
One or two steps lead to the door. As one opens the door, directly opposite is the kitchen shelf which has plates, pots, water containers for display and use.
There is a bottom shelf (chikuva/huva) where one can sit on it. This was forbidden when we were growing up. We were told something bad would befall us if we sat there. But occasionally we would sit there while we got water from the container.
When we were assigned tasks to get firewood and some pieces of wood almost hit your foot or a thorn went through your almost old slipper, one would think it was bad omen caused by sitting on the bottom shelf.
I remember once sleeping under a tree and a chameleon fell onto the ground. The logical thing to do was to run to my grandmother and confess quickly that I had misbehaved.
The shelf is the one that exhibits the lady of the homestead’s creativity. I remember some women used to paint little flowers in vases, chickens and others were like San caves.
From the door to your left could be a built in bench, once the preserve of men and boys, but now women have taken over and sit comfortably there.
In the middle of the kitchen is the heart of the homestead, the fire place and then from the door to your right, the women’s sitting place.
There is something about the round hut kitchen. As the flames dance around the fireplace, shadows are created on the walls. There is a warmth added just by being together. When people finished supper and all the dishes had been cleaned, it was time to connect.
Now we rarely just connect. We connect while we are chewing.
A proverb supports this – “ukama igasva unozadziswa nekudya.”
It simply means that relations are cemented through sharing meals. The pan would be taken out and either maize or peanuts would be roasted.
Gogo would begin “Paivepo” which means once upon a time. Then as taught we would respond “dzefunde”. I suppose this was a way to encourage the story teller to continue because even now as a very mature woman, I have no idea why we responded that way.
I do not even know how to translate it to English! Whatever genre the story was from, it always had a lesson for everyone.
This week I recalled one story Gogo vaMaMoyo told. It was about an old woman who lived alone and used a small cooking pot.
People would never get to see to what she was cooking. They used lack of information to label and stigmatise her.
Despite calls by adults in the village for the children to stay away from this woman that they labelled as dangerous, some curious children were determined that they would solve the woman’s mystery.
The children went to the old woman’s homestead hid behind some bushes, waiting for an opportune time to enter her kitchen. I do not remember all the finer details of the story, blame it on menopause! What I remember though is that the children were caught by the old woman and one of them had her hand on the lid ready to open to peep inside.
The woman stood by the entrance of the kitchen and asked them to lift the lid. When they did they discovered a few grains of maize boiling away in the pot. The old lonely woman did not have any food and instead of being dangerous she was very hungry.
She stood by the side of the door and asked them to leave. The children went home and shared the story that they had been to the old woman’s house and the only danger they had seen was hunger. The ending is wonderful, the village made the old woman one of their own and began to look after her and her needs.
At the reproductive health review that I attended I shared with a colleague that the menstrual cups I have are small but I hoped that I could try them soon. She then brought me a beautiful large menstrual cup.
When I got home, I started studying my latest acquisition. It was when I was studying how to take care of the cup that I began to recall the story my grandmother used to tell us.
It is encouraged that the menstrual cup is sterilised in a pot. So I was imagining that while I am busy sterilising my menstrual cup I get visitors and I invite them to the kitchen for a cup of tea and they see a pot on the stove but there is no aroma to indicate what is being cooked.
When they ask what I am cooking, am I supposed to answer ‘zvinhu zvangu’ (my stuff). Do I wait for someone to ask or I just quickly tell them ‘Today I am sterilising my menstrual cup. Would you like coffee or tea?’
Or do I just keep quiet and pretend like there is nothing on the stove. Better still maybe I should work around the time that I do it, very early in the morning when people are still asleep in their homes or very late at night. Or while I am sterilising it ensure that none of the visitors go to the kitchen.
I am then thinking I may have my little relatives visiting and while I am in the lounge enjoying tea with my guest, they come to boldly announce “Maiguru timer yepa stove yarira, hanzi zvinhu zvenyu zvamati tisavhura zvaita!” (Aunt the timer has gone off, I have heard that those things that you are cooking that we should not see are ready!)
Hopefully I will be able to remain calm.
Online Reporter