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Dr Josephine Shambare
The child – The future
Vana vana huyayi!
(Children, children come!)
Tinotya! (We are afraid!)
Munotyeiko? (What are you afraid of?)
Mapere (Hyenas)
Mapere akaenda mhiri kwerwizi (Hyenas went across the river)
Huwiiii (On the sudden cry of hyenas, children ran towards the caller but some fell prey to the hyenas along the way)
[I enjoyed this game during my childhood though I did not know what it signified. Six decades later, I realise it bodes well with my underlying theme on Child Sexual Abuse (CSA)].
I was glued to an interesting article in the Skyhost magazine entitled ‘CHILD OF THE 60’S: PERSONAL GLIMPSES by a Ms Matifadza Chawasema, aboard an Air Zimbabwe airplane to Johannesburg, in transit to Maseru, Lesotho. This was on the morning of Wednesday 15 September 2004.
The article made very interesting reading as the author, my contemporary, brought to my mind nostalgic episodes of my life as well; as she vividly described glimpses of her personal life.
As I touched down the OR Tambo International Airport, I placed back the magazine, disembarked and headed for a connecting flight to Lesotho.
I paid no further thought to the article yet it was subconsciously embedded in my mind as I discovered six days later at Ox Bow lodge in the mountainous Leribe region to the north of Maseru. The undulating and interlocking mountains of Lesotho’s northern region were breath-taking. I suddenly felt a very strong urge to write something about my experiences as well as I sat several thousand feet above sea level, marvelling at tourists travelling in cables from one mountain to the other.
In contrast to Chawasema who lived both town and farm life, I was born and raised in the country; the Chiweshe tribal trust land (communal lands), in the Mazowe District of Mashonaland Central province.
I grew up at Rosa township. My parents were peasant farmers and owned a shop loosely termed a store (storo), a carpentry shop and a small restaurant. Our house was behind the shop while the staff quarters were adjacent to the shop building. Other employees stayed in nearby villages.
A council beer-hall stood across the road, opposite our shop. It was common for drunkards to stagger into the shops or fight in public especially during month-ends and public holidays; to settle scores and unwittingly offering some entertainment to onlookers.
I was the third child and first girl in a family of nine. On growing up, I was closer to my brother Nathan who came after me; and my sister Winnet who was the fifth child and second girl in the family.
Winnet was tall, slim, and had gaps between her teeth which enhanced her beauty every time she smiled. She was an athlete and could easily carry her slender body as she ran like a bush buck (mhembwe — one of the fastest animals I knew due to my limited knowledge and exposure, at the time). It is no wonder that she always beat us at the hopscotch game (pada or arawuru) which earned her the nickname Bhangiriya — coined from the song ‘Bhangi Kiriya Kiriya . . .’ (whatever that meant) that we sang as we played the game. We also enjoyed a variety of other games such as mahumbwe (playing house) and hide and seek. Winnet was very pleasant but like any other child, could be very naughty. One day, on our way from school she told us: “Ndaona bere. Endai neimwe nzira” (I have seen a hyena. Please use another route”) We queried why she had not been attacked but she insisted we detour. Begrudgingly, we diverted and used the longest and safest route home. Had she seen a real hyena? — I slid into a pensive mood.
Nathan was very intelligent, witty and innovative. We viciously competed academically though we were two grades apart. One morning he came to my class to bail me out with an answer to my homework. He felt very important as he whispered the answer into my ear. Nathan, Winnet and I remained very close due to our smaller age gaps and similar interests.
Many a time Nathan would invite children in our neighbourhood to watch his home-made bioscope (movie). It was a mirror reflecting against a wall with his small fingers fidgeting and making funny dark shapes against the reflection. As children, we found it very funny and enjoyed ourselves. After emptying his bag of tricks, he would emerge from his hiding place and announce the end of the movie. This made us unhappy because the actual mobile bioscope van came from the capital city, Salisbury, (now Harare) occasionally to show us short films like Tiki. Tiki was a character of a man who was full of funny antics and we found the movies fascinating as they were played on fast forward.
We also occasionally got entertainment from the Jairos Jiri band, Lever Brothers’ road show and the Rhodesian Army Brass band which brought along a mascot (a goat that marched with the band to our amusement). Soon we would forget and continue with our child games.
Winnet never missed my birthday and on 25 September 2003, she sent me a card through my two sons. I queried my sister’s handwriting that appeared crooked showing signs of being feeble and weak but my sons assured me that she was alright. I was so devastated when she died three days later. My mother’s wailing pierced my heart even more as she uncontrollably called out Winnet’s childhood nickname Bangiriya (So, my mother used to watch over us intently when we played children’s games to remember such a name — I mused). Indeed, she was so protective of us as children and would say “nokuti munochiviwa’’ (“someone might be envious of you”).
Dr Josephine Shambare writes on social issues for entertainment and awareness, in her own capacity. Excerpts are taken from her unpublished autobiography; and PhD thesis: ‘The Enigma of Child Sexual Abuse in the Zimbabwean Context: Beyond Statistics’
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