It is a few hours before we roll over the scroll on our calendars or receive a notification that it is the new month. I say goodbye to September with so much joy and I hope October will be far much kinder to me.
Myhighlights Birthday celebrations *My baby sister turned another year. It was her first birthday with a national identity card. To be honest I don’t even know why I made a big deal out of it. But I am grateful to have watched her grow into an amazing woman. I am sure God has the best plans for her.
*September is also my Gogo’s birthday month. My Gogo is an amazing woman and I am blessed to have her and I always remind myself that lest I take her for granted.
Road trip adventure When my Uncle invited me on a road trip I anxiously waited for the day to come. The paranoid character in me prayed that I didn’t fall sick. It was amazing to be surrounded by nature and testifies of God’s love.
Overcame my fears The adventurer in me decided to wear big girl panties and have fun during my weekend getaway. The skywalk was a bit terrifying because I once watched an episode on Station 19 where the bridge collapsed and people freaked out. The skyline was fun. I overcame my fear of heights and screamed and laughed in the sky for close to a minute.
Hit my low moments but managed to bounce back *Disappointments have a way of stealing our joy and life seems to be full of tears than smiles. I have learned that I cannot control everything and that’s okay.
Queen of African Literature *Read Glory by NoViolet Bulawayo *Currently reading The Maestro, The Magistrate and the Mathematician by Tendai Huchu
Discovered that: *I haven’t been consistent on my podcast as compared to my blog. Planning on being consistent.
*Yoga bae you are letting us down, you can do better🙄.
*The thought of being a self-taught Content Creator makes me happy. It reminded me that I can do anything as long as I put my mind to it.
Waiting for: *A miracle *Answered prayers *A warm embrace from Gumiguru (October in Shona)
How has been the month of September? I would love to know in the comments section.
We come from small government houses that do not have access to running water and we make friends at the communal borehole. Our younger siblings play in the street and bonds are created. When there isn’t an electrical connection we use lamps to study and when we have power, some of our friends come and charge their lights or phones at our houses.
We are fascinated with a lot of things when we go to the other side with our parents. The green well-trimmed lawn all year round surprises us because all we have are patches of brown grass and it is during the rainy season that our yards become green again. It is weird when we are told to go and sleep in the guest room and not in the living room. Our younger siblings spend hours scrubbing their bodies in the shower because back home they are told to save water. We offer to help because we are not used to resting for long periods. Every day is a busy day with countless tasks.
It always breaks our hearts when we see our mothers being told what to do by our peers. We can’t do anything but it all makes sense why sometimes our mothers just want to take a cold bath and rest. We long for Sundays because at least Ma doesn’t have to wear a dress, an apron, and canvas shoes and Baba doesn’t have to wear blue overalls and gumboots. On Sundays, we go to church and spend time as a family.
We hope to cross to the other side as house owners and not guests. This is why we work hard at school so that we give our parents a better life. Our parents have been shouted at, asked to carry out a lot of tasks, and never complained. They chose these jobs so that they could put food on the table.
One of our many fears is what if the other side changes who we are? Will, we still be grounded and principled? Will we be able to treat each other fairly and respect one another? Will not the big houses with access to running water drift us apart? Maybe we bonded over fetching firewood and water. Maybe we loved one another because we slept in the living room and laughed so loud when one of us woke up in Lake Kariba.
I am in the last trimester of my pregnancy and firstly my teenage year’s prayers have been answered: Mama gained weight. But my joy was short-lived because I ended up crying and I was late for work that day. When you are pregnant, not everyone feels sorry for you, my supervisor gave me a verbal warning. I was an emotional wreck for the whole day but you know what I do, I blame everything on the hormones. One of the many things I love about being pregnant is that I can eat anything I want. Whenever I munch on something I picture you clapping your hands and uttering pamusoroi before you eat, silly me.
Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine myself enjoying my pregnancy because the first trimester was torture. Why were you torturing your Mama? I survived nausea, the peanut butter cravings and fever and I made it to the third trimester. A little birdie tells me that I should spoil myself with avocado pears and fish for supper.
My child, I am looking forward to your gender reveal party this weekend. The good thing is I haven’t turned into Princess Fiona because I would have to run away from the photographer for the whole day.
I have been praying for you my baby and I have realised that you are a fan of Karaoke Sundays. I hope you like the music playlist because your father and I are old at heart. I cannot wait to kiss you, I feel sorry for your cheeks, and I pray that you will have Mama’s smile and chubby cheeks. One last thing before I go and pee…
I have been reading the Bible for you and African Literature too. Because “Train up a child in the way he should go so that when he is old he won’t depart from it”– Proverbs 22:6
George’s long face and misty eyes said it all, something bad had happened. I had seen that defeated version of my husband before when he had lost his patients. Whose name was he going to be engraved next to Sipho his cancer patient and Jabu who succumbed to COVID-19?
I quickly dished supper for Taurai and Tarumbidzwa and stood by the kitchen door while I handed them their plates. “Two pieces of chicken Ma, is it Christmas already”. Taurai asked. I smiled and handed them their plates. “It is not yet Christmas go and eat your food before I decided to take the meat away from you.
When I got back to the kitchen, George was sitting on the floor. Who in their right sense of mind would sit on the cold kitchen floor on a cold day in June? I couldn’t take this anymore, if my husband was dying the least he could do was let me know. He later told me that Gogo Liz was not well, she had a leg ulcer and the only solution was amputating her leg. I tried to be optimistic but all George could say was “her life will never be the same”.
When Gogo Liz got discharged, George and I went to visit her at her home. She was happy to see us and her warm embrace reminded me of my late grandmother. The bandages covered her wound and she sat close to the television reading her Bible. When I asked her how she was she looked away and started crying. Gogo Liz was in pain but it wasn’t physical pain because the painkillers took care of that. She longed to feed her chickens or go to the marketplace on her own. All she wanted was to go to the bank, stand in the queue and collect her widow’s pension. She wanted to stand on her two feet and not wait for someone to carry her to the bathroom, or pass her something that will be at her arm’s reach. All she wanted was her old life back.
I received a call in the middle of the night that caused me to toss and turn until dawn. It has been ten years but I vividly remember the words. “Taku, they removed the tumor but they couldn’t save my eyesight”. I could hear Eddie sobbing and I wanted to go to the hospital and see my best friend. We had so much to talk about but, his life was going to be different. I was glad that he was awake but how was he coping considering that he was blind? When George woke up I begged him to take me to see Eddie because I couldn’t wait until the 11 am visiting hour. Eddie was sitting on his bed and holding to his parent’s portrait. As I approached his bed I waved at him but I later realized that he couldn’t see. I held his hand and apologized to him for not coming to see him when I received his phone call. He smiled and squeezed my hand.
Eddie wasn’t okay, he choked in his words and he wasn’t that bubbly soul that I knew. He was an avid reader of African Literature and he would religiously review the books he had read on his blog. Eddie enjoyed walking into the bookstore and buying books, he always had colorful stickers and highlighters too. Although audiobooks were available would they make his reading experience the same? Eddie was happy that the surgery was successful but when he woke up and realized that he could not see his spirit crashed. He longed to see what I was wearing, to see his scar and the beautiful hospital garden. I promised Eddie that I would be with him through step of the way and he forced a smile. Two hours after I had left the hospital ward I received another call but this time it was different. It wasn’t Eddie’s voice but my husband’s. He told me that Eddie had a heart attack. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Eddie, I thought I still had time. But one thing that made my grieving process bearable was that I had gone to see him early in the morning.
I was comforted that Gogo Liz and Edwin were no longer in pain. They didn’t have to go through the day wishing they could have their old lives back. Edwin and Gogo Liz will always hold a special place in my heart. They might be gone but they are never forgotten.
Not a day goes by without me thinking of you and wishing I had her to myself. Sometimes I wish I had kept her but I had nothing to give her. She is happy and her parents love her. Her parents gave her the world that I could not give her. Telling Sizwakele that I am her mother would only confuse her because she believes that I am her cousin. Taking her away from my uncle and aunt would only destroy the three of them. They are a happy family and her parents would do anything for her.
Although I wish Sizwakele was mine I always remind myself of how my aunt and uncle chose to take the baby and raise her as their own. My pregnancy wasn’t an easy one and I thought that my son would die. When I held her for the first time I knew that her name would be Sizwakele because all our prayers had been answered.
I love Sizwakele but sometimes love is not enough. Love will not put food on the table or build a happy home. I have chosen to love her from a distance.
My knees are bruised from kupfugama. Mind you I am not scrubbing the floor, that ship has sailed I have accepted that I won’t be a perfect makoti. I have been kneeling in prayer and I am now able to pray for others. I have lost my voice and I have wept at Jesus’ feet during my prayer sessions.
Who would have thought that I would make silent prayers whenever I had free time? There is nothing I haven’t tried and I have run out of options.
I pray for Julie more than me because I don’t think she still has the strength to pray. I wish she could walk through the door with the same personality she portrays when she is within the crowd. Whenever Julie is outside she is bubbly, loving, and a happy woman. The outside world has no idea of the bitter, angry and grumpy version of Julie.
I pray that Julie forgives herself and understands that she cannot control everything. Some issues are better off when they are buried in the past. Julie needs to do right by herself because no one going to come and save her.
This blog post was inspired by the song Dance with my father by Luther Vandross. The lyrics that inspired this blog post are ….”I pray for her more than me”
Hello my lovelies, this is the last post of the series. I am a bit sad because it’s time we say goodbye to this series but it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t have these conversations. A big thank you to my agemates ‘the 25-year-olds’, who agreed to share their adult stories.
Being 25 has been a rollercoaster. High and lows and honestly there are times I want to end my life. It’s in the lows I’m always asking myself what’s my purpose or why should I live a happy life now that my mom is gone. At 25 it’s the year I will always remember the death of my mother. So that’s gloomy. Twenty-five is the year you get advise; share your goals and now that person/my cheerleader is gone. I don’t talk about it because of pity parties🥲 and I don’t want to lie that’s the worst.
Some days you’re thinking you’re not special, nothing new here. People die, mothers, die you’re just meant to be miserable all the days of your life. That’s when I ask myself why should even live. Being the firstborn doesn’t make it easier. Once expressed how sad and suicidal I was and the response I got was your siblings need. I know there’s someone who’s going to read and say I’m selfish. Honestly, I don’t care because there’s no one there for me. I am just supposed to be strong, grieve but not too much, and cry but not much because there are people that need me. Whether you’re okay or not that doesn’t matter some people need you.
25 is a milestone probably the best and it’s right to be grateful to the higher power or God you believe in. Grief made me change a lot of what I want in my life. No children so I can fully live my life because kids are expensive, I’ll be responsible for them whilst the partner/husband provides and achieved their goals and diseases that come from childbirth. I don’t have advise because nothing makes sense anymore in my life. I know we do things for our benefit but the blessing of a mother is something I’ll never have so why bother? Anywho my mum always used to say, Live in the moment and do what makes you happy. I hope after this I’ll start writing again probably something less sad because that’s a happy place for me.
Our adult years have got their ups and downs. I hope and pray that you will be kind to the person you see when you look in the mirror ❤❤❤ Have a wonderful weekend- The Baobab
Do you remember when you were young and happy and had such big dreams of what kind of life you wanted to have? I remember I wanted to be a lawyer because everyone wanted to be either that or a doctor. But the older I got the more I realised that no man, I want to be in the entertainment industry. Entertaining people was what I wanted and so I went on to study an Honours in Theatre. I’m grateful my parents were supportive of my decision.
The older you grow the more you realise that adulthood is a big scam. We dealing with a lot of pressure. Between finding jobs, boyfriends, marriage, and enjoyment, there is hardly any time to just sit and breathe. It’s like we all racing to have our lives figured out right now because if you don’t, everyone will just laugh at you. The truth is, there is time, there is a season and time for everything ad everyone. Not all of us will be married with four kids at 25. Not everyone is going to have a secure job at 30 or a millionaire with five houses.
Who even put these standards that we have to live by? Being a Zimbabwean in 2022 is a full-time job in itself. So many educated unemployed people out here. Siyagowa thruwa guys. So, relax, take a breath and breathe. Remember to do things at your own pace. Take it one day at a time. Don’t put pressure on yourself. Remember to always enjoy your life and the simple things. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.
Hello my lovely readers. The adulting series continues. Enjoy🤗
Adulthood phew, it has taught me a lot. It’s funny how I always wanted to be a grown-up not knowing how much of a scam it is😔. It has taught me to prioritize myself always because when your friend, partner, or sibling gets the opportunity, they will choose themselves first, unapologetically.
Adulthood has taught me that the world is not perfect and no one is perfect. It has also taught me to make wise decisions. At this point in life, I don’t even know if I should say I am living or surviving. However, it has taught me to enjoy every minute, to be in the moment and not worry about tomorrow because some things are beyond my control and I will never change them
If our former high school English language teachers would give us an assignment or an essay titled “Adulting” every one of us would have a good mark. This is because the adulting essay is a lived experience. It is a lived experience.The adulting series was inspired been inspired by an article on The Watch with Benjamin To make the adulting chat exciting I invited a few age mates to share their experiences. Dear reader, I hope you will be able to relate to some of the stories. Lots of love The Baobab
****I don’t even know where to start, I have a lot to say but maybe I should just start from the beginning. Mind you, my beginning because this is my story…… I have reached my breaking point on several occasions and there are days I have cried. I am grateful to be alive and I believe that God’s grace has carried me this far. I was a guest on Denzel’s blog don’t forget to read my blog post. Every weekend social media is abuzz with people getting married, and sharing their pregnancy or engagement pictures. To be honest there was a time I felt the heat but I told myself that I do not need to compare myself with others. When my mother was my age she gave birth to me ( I am her 2nd child), my sister got married when she was my age. As for me, it is a different story. I am happy for everyone who is celebrating the beginning of the parenthood or adulthood chapter.
I have outgrown most of my friends and there was a time I thought we would sit at the same table at our retirement home. One of the takeaways is that you ought to live in the moment. Sometimes I wonder why I was thinking about retirement homes when I had never reached menopause. Adulting has taught me to love myself, celebrate the small wins and be kind to myself. It is so easy to hate yourself when you compare yourself with others and be too harsh on yourself when you are doing your best. Lastly, adulting has taught me to appreciate the small things that money cannot buy. To be grateful for family, friends, good health and the moments that I laugh or smile. Dear reader, I know that you are doing your best. As long as you are still alive your shelved or suspended dreams can still become a reality.
The series continues with my fellow agemates sharing their adulting stories. Winky D’s song titled 25 now hits different.