Wednesday, 19 March 2014

The Love Of Things

The love of “things” has always been my biggest curse, and probably yours too. 

You know when you can’t leave well enough alone and you give into the urges that your inquisitive nature demands of you.  I am a regular victim of my own gut instinct as well as a very active imagination. Yes, yes , yes  like Cole Sear’s or Haley Joel Osment’s charater in Sixth Sense…I (probably) see dead people.

I hear voices and I dream very vivid and at times graphic dreams. The stuff of horror movies; blood and gore as well as candy coated streets and fantastical nonsense. I have an over active imagination. I have always had issues with things not sitting well in my gut; I don’t just refer here to my late onset lactose intolerance. Women you know what I mean when the gut won’t let something sit well in it. It writhes within you and burns like acid and begs to be settled and no plain antacid will suit. Only answers and not your run of the mill bullshit answers will do.

This is about to get ugly and anyone with a weak constitution has been warned.

I have been hurt before and if you will, I can be referred to as damaged goods in areas of trust and faith. As you sit and tell your story I look at you and nod energetically at everything you say while slipping liberal pinches of salt from the 5kg bucket I keep in my handbag to all of your statements. This behaviour applies to everyone (but bear in mind that this does not take away from the fact that I believe in the inherent good of people) but I have developed this self-preservation technique in order to balance out my own naïveté .

Let me give a quick sample rundown of my past as regards relationships. I am going to edit this so that it portrays me in the best light possible as I have been around a couple of blocks a couple of times.

·       - The Identical Twins- Shayne and Wayne: I cannot for the life of me directly remember who was who and neither could Rumbi, the chick who laid claim to one or the other. This was kindergarten and these were hands down the cutest Caucasian dudes in the school. One day one of them didn’t come to school and this led to a massive showdown in the sandpit with Rumbi when break time food share was on and the one twin present was partaking in the normal festivities of sharing lunches with me and not her. That would be the first and sadly not the only time I actively got physical with another female over a man. He just walked away and went to call Ms. Hughes to break us apart ...sell out weakling

·        -Chubby: my first crush from the age of about 7, our mums were friends and we regularly went to their house or they came over to ours for dinners. Our parents referred to one another as in-laws and even though it was all a play I internally wished this dashing young man would father the 5 children I intended to mother someday. Thankfully we kid about it here and there and no pining or wishing for those childhood days exists. He has grown into a tall and still dashing career driven manly man, engaged if not already married so I wasn’t too far off the mark.

·        -String of nonentities, other guys who had crushes on me or I on them

·       - The Mayor’s son: I had the hugest crush on this chiselled young prefect, as did half of the school, female teachers, hostel matrons as well as wives of male teachers. He was athletic and mmmmm yummy. This boy I literally stalked, wrote him letters, snuck him glances and practised his signature if he so much as walked past me in the corridor (I have spoken of this before). Our parents were also really familiar and we would visit their farm they would visit us. He was a year older than me and we are cool right now, he has a family and a gorgeous one at that; we also share laughs about the good old days.

·      -  Bighead: this was my first “boyfriend” I was 14 and he is the first guy I kissed. For a whole 2 hours while I was on holiday under a street light in a town in the Midlands of Zimbabwe. Things fell apart when he appeared at my school’s dance with a hot girl who is now actually a great friend but was my unspoken arch rival at the time. I don’t know what happened to that new fool.

·        -Mr Chiweshe: body of a modern day Adonis full stop (.)

·        -Funny Valentine/ Big Head 2: our school had this terrible culture of having roses delivered on Vday by the Interact/Rotary club. The most popular girls would get bucket upon bucket and pimply me was among the awkward bunch that was at risk of marching out of that classroom with heads hung in shame unless we bought ourselves the things. So I recruited this guy from our church youth group solely for the purpose of getting even one rose. Soon as that was done I quickly disabused him of all his illusions of happily ever after and gave him his marching orders. He also had a big head. The only thing I felt bad about was that I actually gave him the money to buy me those flowers…

·       - Skinny Big Head: he deflowered me at the age of 16 one month and 4 days at Nyasha’s party, in a field under the stars on a fur coat that may or may not have belonged to my mother. A strong relationship that even resulted in me introducing him to my mum ensued for almost a year and ended when he cheated on me with a friend of his cousin who also had a big head

·     -   Zeus: I hit and run him to get over Skinny Big Head in a garden at a party and borrowed his khaki Levi jacket and never returned it

·        -Names elude me, places elude me but there was an incident in a hotel powder room on a Sunday morning he is also happily married to a gorgeous babe and their son thankfully looks like his mama. The guys at school dances- salute comrades. The one with the undescended gonad….all of the oral in elevator, teenage fumblings lol. More non entities.

·      -  Otis: he too had a big head that got cornrowed regularly, he smoked , drank flaming shots of Sambuca and dressed like a gangster with gaudy thick gold chains and form fitting vests. He never hit it. There was simply no way I was going to play with worms when I had handled anacondas. Yes Otis, you have a worm.

·        -Mr Mazda: would wait for me after school until I couldn’t ignore him anymore and boy have I never regretted that.

Like I said I am being conservative here. Mr  Mazda was to be the last before my marriage.

It’s always the same script and different cast. I will spare you the intricacies of it all because I am sure the conservatives among us are sanitising their eyes and spraying bleach over their screens in a bid to purge themselves of my teenage misadventures. Haha. But this is a reality a lot of us don’t want to face. Many children are sexually active long before they are remotely ready to deal with the emotional implications of a physical relationship not to mention the risk of pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases. I paid attention in sex-education classes and I made sure my ass was covered.

One common denominator in all my past relationships and crushes is that I am very gullible when I am in love/ like/ lust. I put my own heels over my head and wrap the wool over my own eyes without help from anyone. Hell. I can catch you in the act and if you got up and started singing that it wasn’t you I would probably pick up your clothes for you and say let’s go home babe look at what the devil is trying to do to us. In short I love stupidly and whole heartedly even if that love is not returned in equal or adequate measure.

I have been deceived, cheated on, lied to, manipulated, used, and a great range of un-typable un-speakables. I am rabidly faithful and expect the same faithfulness to a degree where I always find myself sitting with egg on my face, tears streaming down my cheeks and an ever increasing distrust and dare-I-say resentment of the male species. Usually this is over things I will have seen and chosen to ignore in my love drunk state. Things that are so glaring and irregular that they need no introduction. Things that gnaw at me and latch onto my intestines, causing me insomnia and putting me in CSI mode. You do not want to cross me when I am in CSI mode and my gut won’t let it go.

Nemesis has not been spared from this fate.

Thursday, 13 March 2014

The Socks Maketh the Moan

Nemesis has always worn the most interesting socks, quite cute really for a man of his stature and demeanour. One thing I always poke fun at him about is the flowery near childlike appearrance of them. Black body with bright yellow toes and heels, bright orange, bright red, striped black and grey with the same bozo the clown red edging. 

Many more times than I care to count it has been claimed that all I am is a sex mad nymphomaniac after I have illicited a string of profanity coupled with glorious praise to the Creator (circa Jesus,B*tch) but all it is, is these socks! I can't control myself just at the thought of them. All I need is a peek of them and I start getting hot under the collar and buzzing between the thighs.

Woooohoooo a man gotsta have sexy socks y'all. 

We decided one day to dispense with our usual non focussed conversation and actually spend time discussing one another’s interests from long term life goals, to everything and nothing. He started off asking why I never seem to have nothing to say. For a second I looked at him with skew eyes and a raised eyebrow before I asked if he thought that I talk too much. 

Ohhh but no said he, apparently I keep him spellbound and enraptured by how easy my opinions flow, my desire to learn more when I don't know something and my innate curiosity about massively varied facets of life. He was hooked on my zest for life no matter how much life seemed to want to drive me to the edge of my sanity and tip me over it. 

How did I manage to still attack each day as if the one before hadn't sapped every ounce of hope out of me. I to this day haven't been able to provide an answer for that. All I am is a hopeless optimist by nature, made even more hopeless through being a mother and as if that wasn't enough by finally finding a doppelganger in the man sat across the table from me. 

When it comes to my nature call me stupid if you will but I have been brought up to believe that in every human being there lies an inherent streak of good. Them not having found it in themselves is no reason to believe it is not there.

I have also been raised on my mother's mantra 'ZVICHANAKA' (in my native Shona this translates to -it will be well/fine/great/wonderful dependent on what context you apply). My mum is a certifiable hopeless optimist and like my well-formed African curves I got this from my mama. In as much as she can shed the most harrowing of tears and cry so much it breaks your heart she has never hidden her pain from all five of us when she feels it and she has never hidden her joys and victories either.

No matter what her experience she has never blocked herself from feeling, never blocked her offspring either. This has shaped the woman I am, the mother I am and the lover I am.

Having been married to my father for over 29 years my mum has seen it all. From holidays everywhere, dinners with business and opinion leaders, the high life through to the lows of cross border trading and being robbed with a gun pressed against her temple when all she was trying to do was guarantee our livelihood and even lower still. Their love stands strong. 

This woman lovingly discouraged me from getting married too young but due to the same heady feelings that had coursed through her veins in her youth and the sensibility she had instilled in me, gave me blessing to become a wife. 

Not because I was totally ready, who is ever ready at 19? But because she had raised a strong woman who could handle herself and because she never stopped me from being able to feel. When after 5 years I came back a shadow of myself, beaten ,battered, mentally, emotionally and psychologically abused telling both my parents if I didn't end the marriage someone was going to die-most likely me nogal.

She never said I told you so...she cried harder than I did, she felt my pain and she held and rehabilitated not just me but my child too. This is my template of what a woman is.

This woman's protégé is what Nemesis has had the great fortune of associating with. 

As to my big dreams, I want to work with women especially those that never had a mother like mine and find themselves in situations worse than I was in. I want to give back the way I was given to when the next and only option was suicide. Ultimately I want to be able to set up a centre where disadvantaged women and girls can be empowered, rehabilitated where they can just BE. 

Not one of these shoving of radical feminism down society's throat but a place that encourages healthy relationships, self-respect and respect for the next person whether you know them or not. A place where a doctor can offer medical assistance not for money but pro bono- for the good of the populace. Where a tailor can teach women to sew so that they can teach their daughters. Where a hairstylist imparts their skills to a teenager who helps another and in turn assists around their own home and community. Where a 12yr old reads to toddlers and pre-schoolers to grow their desire to learn simple things- market gardening, chicken rearing, whatever...people taking care of people. Finding solutions within ourselves for ourselves and not waiting for a saviour in the form of an overstretched government or disconnected donor community.

By the time I had rattled off my dreams with ever widening and glistening eyes, animated gestures and a faraway look...our fingers had intertwined. Nemesis held my gaze and was staring at me in the oddest manner. I damn near expected a round of applause as soon as he finished wiping the drool off the table. 

The entire time I had been talking he had his gaze fixed on the ample 42DD cleavage on display courtesy of the Jezebel bustier under a sheer top whose button had popped open somehow. The man was decidedly happy and pulled me towards him in a rushed embrace over the table. Right there he planted a huge kiss on my lips and told me he believed in me (and it had nothing to do with the big boobies) he believes in my dream. Apart from my brother/confidante no one had ever heard me speak of this, but I spoke honestly and he believed. 

With a stretch of his back and a flick of his foot, he exposed a bit of those damn socks...I threw him a wicked glance and licked my bright red lips seductively. 

We had to leave...NOW!

(Follow me on Twitter @mazituwe)

Monday, 10 March 2014


So Nemesis and I had been going strong for a while now and had kind of settled into the lull of sex charged comfortability. Days turned into nights and they turned into days where nary a moment went by without wanting to consume each other whenever we were apart. For a good chunk of time there was no travelling on his part, no bloody A-word and no drama. 

One weekend my pumpkin and I took a trip out of town and decided to spend the weekend visiting with friends. All was well...Until he went out that one night and even if I had been in town I felt I was going to give it a pass. He was in really high spirits and I honestly just wanted to sit on my bed and twiddle my fingers and listen to baby reading me fairy-tale after fairy-tale in the company of my girls. 

He called and I missed his call as I was deep twiddle and seriously concentrating. Next thing I got an sms saying babe, why don't you pick up and was I pissed off about something. I deliberately ignored that too as the twiddle was reaching epic proportions. We (baby, friends and I) had decided that we were going to going to lose our minds even further in a game of 5-7yr old age appropriate Scrabble.

We were not backing down...we were going innnn. 

No matter how bad you were feeling wherever you were Nemesis. There was no beef whatsoever but you know how it is when you just start feeling crowded by Love. I wasn't feeling like being banged senseless or cuddled clueless and I genuinely couldn't express that. He rang a second time and this time I excused myself from the throes of the enrapturing board game, and went outside to listen to his silky voice caress my body like the gentle breeze I stood in.

Before I knew it I was leant against a pillar almost catching cramp from twiddling my toes and imagining my feet intertwining with his in our pre and post coital tango. I slid to the floor and squeezed my thighs together, rocking back and forth as the throbbing was getting too much. As if he read all my movements he egged me on. Timidly at first and with ever increasing fervour I sat there like a praying mantis, loose limbed but attentive just begging for some kind of release.
His voice rose and fell rapturously. He made me feel him tracing hot wet kisses, down my neck and behind my ears; around my collar bone and on the pert peaks of my nipples. Blood was filling up my head generating a thudding that had me woozy and seeing shooting stars in a light dusk sky. Damnit, if I rushed back now I could still make the train back home and bang his brains out all night long...the friends could wait. 

Then just as suddenly as he had me breathing heavy down the phone I had to calm myself to speak to his friend he had been having drinks and catching up with

Hie *clearingthroat* ehermm uhmmm Hie *clearingthroatagain* how are you? My name is Tuwe...phew no hint whatsoever of my unstable state seemed to travel through the airwaves and Mr Friend was none the wiser about how whorish I felt at that moment.

Nemesis had gone to get something from his car and Mr Friend and I got better acquainted. He asked a bit about me what I do blaa and somewhere along the line I let slip that I bake. He let out a mighty roar and said that means nothing if u can't brew a proper beer woman! Luckily my contemporaries did a good job in training me to be a 'proper' woman so with great confidence I announced my prowess in the manufacturing of inebriating substances and momentarily earned myself some serious bragging rights. Papi grabbed the phone back and talked general nonsense for a while until we got disconnected. 

Almost two hours and several beers later and the loss of any good sense and inhibitions Nemesis and Mr Friend were on the phone again. By this time my girls had safely left my baby with a battalion of likeminded kids, a paid baby sitter and a very weary grandmother; fed and sufficiently stocked up on marshmallows and cartoons. We left home, headed for the sanctity of a jazz club where we could flex a bit of tail as well. I picked up...  First thing to assault my ears was the sound of loud raucous music and the evident backdrop of a nightclub.

With much difficulty we talked and upon inquiring as to where I was and getting an answer the next statement blew the lid off my evening. 

Hunny, please don't let anyone touch you while you are out there...that ass is mine, do you hear me? You are MY BITCH!!!


Ohhhhhhellno! Bitch???? Me? 

Oh you done crossed the line right there mister! 

With your friend beside you that I haven't even met and you are busy throwing around words like that about me? I immediately hung up on him. After at least seven call backs  I eventually picked up and made sure I was in the noisiest place possible since he was now home and obviously watered down...I told him very politely that I was in no mood to discuss his gaffe and we would maybe deliberate on it upon my return. He almost cried begging forgiveness and I was not giving any of that out. I told him to sleep and reflect on the error of his ways, I would see him tomorrow.

Upon return to Pretoria I sought him out and on first opportunity tied him to a bed and put him through the most delicious hell he has ever experienced. All I wanted was to hear two words Jesus (very important coming from a nonbeliever) and Bitch... I rode on that thing like my life depended on it, pleasured with my tongue and a slicked oily body until both words erupted from him with such violence it almost landed me on the floor. 

Sweating and breathing hard I planted a satisfied kiss on his lips as I untied him and calmly whispered...'In this and other rooms,bed, naked grinding your brains out ...this is where you call me BITCH not in the middle of a club...   

We giggled, then laughed and breathed erratically...and that inspired bitch let herself get flipped over and pummelled all night to her and her Nemesis's delight

(follow me on Twitter @mazituwe)