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)

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