Online Reporter
Fadzayi Maposah
Correspondent
Is it not strange that before we have something, we promise ourselves that when we finally get it, we shall take utmost care of it?
I remember the first time I planned to get a kitchen table and chairs. I had the colours and the designs that I wanted in my mind.
The excitement that I had was so much that those who would hear me talk about it would think that I had never lived in a house with a table and chairs. I remember saving for them.
I wanted something that I would be proud of. My first set of a table and chairs was red and white. The chairs had red seats and the frames were white. The table had white frames, and the top was floral, with big red flowers spread on it. I loved my table. I did not want anyone messing with my special furniture.
I remember always ensuring that the table and the chairs were clean. I had mats that I placed at the centre of the table, and I was so particular that when someone was having food at the table, all plates had to be placed on mats. I just did not want my table to be burnt.
I learnt which cleaning materials would not harm my table. Spillages had to be attended to immediately. I was afraid that some spills would taint my table.
Occasionally, some vegetables such as beetroot would stain the top, and I would ask that the scrubbing should not be too hard, as chances were high that some of the flowers would be scrubbed away!
Those whom I stayed with then had a lot of work to do regarding my table and chairs. I was not happy when people pulled the chairs such that they made noise.
Why pull, I would ask myself sometimes and then speak out aloud. The table and chairs served me well, and even when there was wear and tear, I attended promptly.
I recall that at some point, the paint was peeling off the chairs, but everything else was still good. I told others my issue, and I was assisted in getting someone to spray paint the affected areas, and it was back to looking good again.
When I parted with the table and chairs later, I felt as if I had lost a piece of myself, but I was content that I had done my best to take care of the furniture when I had it.
Before puberty, my friends and I looked forward to having breasts. We hoped that they would be big; we wanted everyone to see that we had them! It took us time to realise that not everyone had big breasts.
Before the breasts developed when we were playing dollhouse, we would create our own and stuff our clothes to have a bosom exactly the size that we wanted.
When the bosom was created, it would change the way that we walked. With time, we developed the bust, and at times, we were disappointed that what we thought the bust would look like was not what we got.
At the beginning, we thought that the bust attracted unnecessary attention, and so we did not like people looking at it.
In the first days, we looked at our breasts and actually took time to see how they were developing. We wanted to understand what they looked like and the shapes that they had.
We would stand in front of the mirror to see how they had grown. When our parents bought us bras, we loved them and would wear them in front of the mirror, observing the lacy detail against our skin.
If we had an insect bite, we were very quick to notice. Even when some of the clips of the bras bruised our skin, we knew what had happened and when.
Then we got used to having the breasts, I am sure the saying familiarity breeds contempt is very relevant here.
We had gotten used to having breasts that we decided that there was no need to wear the bras in front of the mirror; we knew our body parts so well that being in front of the mirror was just pure drama.
Even in the dark, we told ourselves that we could get dressed because we knew our bodies very well.
Our breasts changed as we grew, too. We lost track of the changes as we had become too familiar with them.
We thought we knew them, yet the connection had drifted away. We had loved them like my kitchen table and chairs initially, fussy about the care it got, asking how best we could take care of them, and then we got used to having them.
We did not realise that being observant was still important now, just as it had been many years ago.
When it comes to breast cancer, the figures that we hear are not just statistics. They are people, these are mothers, sisters, daughters, nieces, aunts and grandmothers, close friends to many families.
I think what is important when reading the figures is to imagine the people behind the figures.
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It is a time to increase awareness of breast cancer and also honour the millions of lives that have been affected by breast cancer.
Wear the pink ribbon that may appear small, but is huge in terms of its significance. Some may opt not to just wear the pink ribbon, but to be totally dressed in pink the whole month.
This month, this column in support of lives affected by breast cancer will discuss breast cancer. How are we relating with our breasts?
#October Breast Awareness Month.
