The resilient woman

Today, l will be writing on behalf of my biological mother, {interview setting} This will be a two part story because getting her to do this was a struggle. Soooo …. This is her story.

My name is Anne. I was born in the 50’s at Njube Clinic eNjube [Bulawayo, Zimbabwe]. My parents were customarily married. They were rich so l went to rich people schools. My younger brother was born 11 months after me but somehow my mother managed to handle the pressure. The pressure of handling two toddlers can be too much but she did well. The problem was, I had a health problem that required me to see a doctor every month. I had fits. This made it a little hectic for me to settle in one school but I finished my O’levels at Matopo.

My late mother [Rita] was from Zimbabwe and my late father [Miguel] was from Mozambique. His Ndebele was hilarious. He often spoke Sena. We then grew up speaking both languages. I am the oldest sibling of 8 so l was deputy parent. I was extreme. Very strict. Very smart. My young ones who are now grannies and grandpa’s really had enough of me. I was beautiful. I still am but I was one of the most beautiful girls in my town. I took care of myself. Many women don’t . My children know , you must always look clean.

I still like to look very beautiful. I buy beautiful dresses, l wear my glasses almost all the time, I buy pretty earrings and I always smell good. I bath in the morning. You will not meet me looking this and that. Yes! I still value my looks. Young ladies learn this from me. No I don’t like make up , I only put eyeshadows which my daughters say I must stop, they think I’m clumsy with it. I will keep putting it. Ahhh yooo l was the most beautiful girl that time! Guys from different missions,( we used to call them missions meaning boarding schools would say , “We are looking for the most beautiful girl esizwe ngaye.” {That we have been hearing about}

We used to have competitions like teen beat and l wished to join. My father would refuse for me to enter. Though l wished, l knew I’d beat the teens , my parents were strict. My mother was a gardener. She had her garden and she would grow vegetables and spend time cultivating it. She wasn’t employed. She was devoted to church which is something that is very important for a child to see in their mother. Particularly mothers. She never missed church. Modelling that for us helped us because we know we can always count on God. Even as a family, my siblings and l, our children and grandchildren, know this. We are Christians.

My father was Self employed. His customers used to call him the first african panel beater, spray painter and welder . Wayelandwa langabe lungu. (White people came to him for business) I started putting on sunglasses and suits when l was in grade 5. Fast forward, l grew and became a woman. I had my first daughter , Brenda. At this point l had gone to nursing school. My father wanted to me to be a nurse so much so he would tell people I’m already a nurse. He was proud of me. Then my father fell sick …… he had lung cancer (Click to find out more about it)

One of his lungs had to be removed but he refused and when he decided to go ahead, it was already too late. Yayisigcwele I cancer emzimbeni (The cancer had spread to the rest of the body) He suffered greatly, we suffered too. He would cry the whole day especially at night calling us all ; saying he is in pain. He would ask us to pray to God to take him because it was unbearable. Our whole family was traumatised from that ordeal because cancer is a rough disease. During those days it was even worse because all these new medical treatments were not discovered yet. There was no google. Infact diseases like cancer were believed to be caused by witchcraft and anyone who had it would have to go see a traditional healer. Either that or you die, eventually.

Parallel to this, l left nursing. I left because of a friend. I got mixed up in drama while l was away to visit my father and so l got scared to go back and dropped out. My father was so hurt. I was too. Two cannot walk together lest they’re in agreement. Make sure where you want to go, your friends want to go there too and if not? Go alone.
Don’t join groups or befriend anyone who will discourage you from getting to your destination. Go alone . I still think it contributed to my father’s death. It haunted me for years. “What if it made him worse,” The heartbreak of investing in a child and she drops out for a very silly reason. I could’ve gone back. I wasn’t pregnant or in any crime but I didn’t. Maybe deep down , I also didn’t want to. Maybe I did. In the end I didn’t become a nurse. I just came out with unqualified knowledge of medicine . Here’s a picture of me at nursing school.

My father was sick two years after his diagnosis and he eventually died on the 15th of May 1983. I was 25 and had two children Brenda and Amanda.

A whole new life started. See you on part 2. Thank you for reading my story.

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I don’t know if I should write editor’s note but let me just say this. It’s important to ask our parents about their past. About their lives. We have been learning from social media, from mentors, from anyone else BUT our parents. We only learn how to cook and wash but there’s so much more to learn. How to overcome pain. How to get up after making mistakes. As my mother was answering all these questions, l could sense that she was uncomfortable at first because elders don’t just open up but she eventually started responding and giving me information. Maybe all our parents need is a listening ear. Especially African parents who have been silenced by many many things. I wish there was a program for elders to come and tell their story (Sounds like an idea for YTV) l am so glad I had the privilege to hear her story while she’s still in body and spirit because oneday, l will be back here to re read with my children. Thank you for reading guys. See you tomorrow 🩷